Master Grene's House
Three
Three
A servant greeted Roderick at the door, “Who are you?”
“I’m here to respond to Mr. Greene’s advertisement.”
“Well, come in.”
The servant led Roderick through the doorway to reveal the inside. The room was gargantuan with faded and peeling yellow wall-paper. A couple pictures hung on the walls. One was of the birth of Venus, a naked woman standing on a seashell. Another was a painting of a prostitute flaunting her flesh. And the last was the painting “The Garden of Earthly Delights”, showing a mob of men and women in various sexual positions.
“Put your bags here.” Said the servant “What’s your name?”
“Roderick.”
“Jeremiah.” Said the servant, shaking his hand, “Forgive the bad accommodations.” They heard a scream from the hallway, “That’s just Bess. She’s a little…” another scream, “off her rocker.”
“Sir,” said Roderick, disturbed, “Has the house always been like this.”
“No. Used to be all clean and not falling apart. Until the master had a fit.”
“A fit?” Roderick eyed him questioningly.
“Yeah. Roundabout three years ago his daughter ran away. He got so mad that he started tearing through the house with a large hunk of wood, screaming at everything that moved and smashing everything that didn’t.” he pointed to the walls, “You see how the paper’s peeling off? Before it happened, it was like new. But then he got a rake from the shack out back and, well, it wasn’t like that no more.”
“Sounds like Mr. Greene’s a bit,” Roderick felt sweat beat down his cheeks, “Eccentric.”
“He is.” Replied the man, “Some of the servants say he should be in Bedlam. I think so too.” He said, “Remember.” He looked at Roderick directly in the eyes, “If you need any protection or anything else, come to me.”
“I… will…”
****
Percy knocked on the door to the printer’s shop. Closed.
He turned around to leave when he saw a small object poking out from a corner in the alley.
Percy tried to get a closer look. He walked around the corner and looked down at the object to find that it was a small book. Its pages were wrinkled and yellow and it had a leather string and buckle holding it closed.
He reached forward and picked it up. He slowly undid the buckle to reveal the pages.
It read:
Dear Diary,
I saw the little boy again today. This time he was hanging by his neck in the middle of my room.
****
“This is Mr. Greene.”
A tall man with a long, unkempt beard walked down the stairs. “Who is this?”
“It is Mr. Jackson. He is coming to answer your advertisement for a new porter.”
“You have read the descriptions, have you?”
“I don’t think I have.” Said Roderick.
“You are to be a porter. You are to carry in the baggage of my frequent visitors and you are to carry everything I get in the mail directly to my study.” Said Mr. Greene
“Where is your study, sir?”
He pointed to a small set of stairs that Roderick had thought led to the basement, “Down those stairs, and turn left. You can’t miss it.” He turned to Jeremiah, “You are dismissed.” Jeremiah left, he turned to Roderick, “Come with me.”
****
I screamed. Then father came in with his belt and lashed me extra hard, with the buckle. The old, rusty one. When I screamed even more, he told me that I’d better get used to it and hit me harder and harder.
Percy closed the book. The door to the print shop opened.
A young boy stepped out, “ ‘Oo are you supposed t’ be?”
“I’m here to apply for a job.”
“Th’ master’s not in right now.” Percy turned to go, “Come in. I’ll let you stay ‘ere ‘till ‘e comes back.” He led him into the shop.
****
Roderick was led up a winding flight of stairs to a small room in the top of the house.
There was a window at the back of the room, which had a fantastic view of the city.
“See that chapel there?” said Mr. Greene, pointing out the window to a certain little chapel that stood on top of a hill.”
“No, sir.”
“Look closer. From here you can barely see it.”
Roderick squinted into the distance, and he saw it, just outside the city, “I see it.”
“Listen to me.” Said Mr. Green, turning to him, “You are never, never, to go near there. Ever.”
“But, why?”
“Just listen, damn you!” snapped Mr. Greene, “You are never to go there. Understand/”
“what happens if I do?”
“A fate worse than death.” Said Mr. Greene, “Now. You are to stay here and wait for my guests, and carry bags, until nightfall, and then you may go back to your apartment. You are not to work overtime. You are to pick up your cheque in my mailbox outside. And you are to never, ever, go in my study without my permission. Understood?”
“understood.”
****
“You’ve come at a bit of a bad time, I’m afraid.” Said the boy, “The master’s out on business, ‘e frequently does that.” The boy went over to a small stove burning in the corner, ‘Should I make you some tea?”
“Yes. You’re very kind.” Said Percy.
“Gotta go get the tea. You stay put.” The boy strode through the back door.
*****
Just then, a young boy of about ten or twelve years came through the door to the attic.
“Filch.” Mr. Greene said, “What are you doing here?”
Mr. Greene leaned over and listened to the boy whisper something that Roderick couldn’t make out in his ear.
“Oh,” said Mr. Greene, “I’ll be there in a moment.” He turned to Roderick, “Excuse me. It seems I have been called on business. I won’t be long.” Roderick watched him walked out of the room.
****
Percy opened the book and continued to read:
He finally left and I sat staring at the welts on my arms. Worse than usual. I heard sounds of father, cursing savage oaths and braking things.
The boy returned after some fifteen minutes with a box of tea leaves.“Milk and sugar?”
“No. just black.” Said Percy, not even looking at him.
He tore into my room and he started yelling at me about how I was lazy and a no good dirty rotten little whore. He grabbed clothes from my shelf and stuffed them into my wrinkled pillow sack. He told me that I was no longer part of his household and no longer associated with him. He beat me again, this time kicking me and screaming. He grabbed me and pulled me down the stairs and out the door. I crept back out back and Old Bess gave me some food to eat. But I didn’t dare go back in again.
I’m on the streets now. And I don’t know what to do.
“ ‘Ere you go.” Said the boy, handing Percy a cup of tea.
“Thank you.”
“The name’s Filch. Not a christened name, sir, but it’s what everyone calls me.’
“I’m Percy. Percy Andrews.”
“pleasure.” A knock was heard at the door.
“That must be him. I’ll introduce him.”
A tall, brooding man opened the door and stepped in, “Filch, who is this?”
“This is Mr. Andrews, sir, ‘e’s ‘ere to respond to our advertisement.”
“Charmed.” Said the man to Percy, stretching out his hand, “My name is Jason Greene.”
A servant greeted Roderick at the door, “Who are you?”
“I’m here to respond to Mr. Greene’s advertisement.”
“Well, come in.”
The servant led Roderick through the doorway to reveal the inside. The room was gargantuan with faded and peeling yellow wall-paper. A couple pictures hung on the walls. One was of the birth of Venus, a naked woman standing on a seashell. Another was a painting of a prostitute flaunting her flesh. And the last was the painting “The Garden of Earthly Delights”, showing a mob of men and women in various sexual positions.
“Put your bags here.” Said the servant “What’s your name?”
“Roderick.”
“Jeremiah.” Said the servant, shaking his hand, “Forgive the bad accommodations.” They heard a scream from the hallway, “That’s just Bess. She’s a little…” another scream, “off her rocker.”
“Sir,” said Roderick, disturbed, “Has the house always been like this.”
“No. Used to be all clean and not falling apart. Until the master had a fit.”
“A fit?” Roderick eyed him questioningly.
“Yeah. Roundabout three years ago his daughter ran away. He got so mad that he started tearing through the house with a large hunk of wood, screaming at everything that moved and smashing everything that didn’t.” he pointed to the walls, “You see how the paper’s peeling off? Before it happened, it was like new. But then he got a rake from the shack out back and, well, it wasn’t like that no more.”
“Sounds like Mr. Greene’s a bit,” Roderick felt sweat beat down his cheeks, “Eccentric.”
“He is.” Replied the man, “Some of the servants say he should be in Bedlam. I think so too.” He said, “Remember.” He looked at Roderick directly in the eyes, “If you need any protection or anything else, come to me.”
“I… will…”
****
Percy knocked on the door to the printer’s shop. Closed.
He turned around to leave when he saw a small object poking out from a corner in the alley.
Percy tried to get a closer look. He walked around the corner and looked down at the object to find that it was a small book. Its pages were wrinkled and yellow and it had a leather string and buckle holding it closed.
He reached forward and picked it up. He slowly undid the buckle to reveal the pages.
It read:
Dear Diary,
I saw the little boy again today. This time he was hanging by his neck in the middle of my room.
****
“This is Mr. Greene.”
A tall man with a long, unkempt beard walked down the stairs. “Who is this?”
“It is Mr. Jackson. He is coming to answer your advertisement for a new porter.”
“You have read the descriptions, have you?”
“I don’t think I have.” Said Roderick.
“You are to be a porter. You are to carry in the baggage of my frequent visitors and you are to carry everything I get in the mail directly to my study.” Said Mr. Greene
“Where is your study, sir?”
He pointed to a small set of stairs that Roderick had thought led to the basement, “Down those stairs, and turn left. You can’t miss it.” He turned to Jeremiah, “You are dismissed.” Jeremiah left, he turned to Roderick, “Come with me.”
****
I screamed. Then father came in with his belt and lashed me extra hard, with the buckle. The old, rusty one. When I screamed even more, he told me that I’d better get used to it and hit me harder and harder.
Percy closed the book. The door to the print shop opened.
A young boy stepped out, “ ‘Oo are you supposed t’ be?”
“I’m here to apply for a job.”
“Th’ master’s not in right now.” Percy turned to go, “Come in. I’ll let you stay ‘ere ‘till ‘e comes back.” He led him into the shop.
****
Roderick was led up a winding flight of stairs to a small room in the top of the house.
There was a window at the back of the room, which had a fantastic view of the city.
“See that chapel there?” said Mr. Greene, pointing out the window to a certain little chapel that stood on top of a hill.”
“No, sir.”
“Look closer. From here you can barely see it.”
Roderick squinted into the distance, and he saw it, just outside the city, “I see it.”
“Listen to me.” Said Mr. Green, turning to him, “You are never, never, to go near there. Ever.”
“But, why?”
“Just listen, damn you!” snapped Mr. Greene, “You are never to go there. Understand/”
“what happens if I do?”
“A fate worse than death.” Said Mr. Greene, “Now. You are to stay here and wait for my guests, and carry bags, until nightfall, and then you may go back to your apartment. You are not to work overtime. You are to pick up your cheque in my mailbox outside. And you are to never, ever, go in my study without my permission. Understood?”
“understood.”
****
“You’ve come at a bit of a bad time, I’m afraid.” Said the boy, “The master’s out on business, ‘e frequently does that.” The boy went over to a small stove burning in the corner, ‘Should I make you some tea?”
“Yes. You’re very kind.” Said Percy.
“Gotta go get the tea. You stay put.” The boy strode through the back door.
*****
Just then, a young boy of about ten or twelve years came through the door to the attic.
“Filch.” Mr. Greene said, “What are you doing here?”
Mr. Greene leaned over and listened to the boy whisper something that Roderick couldn’t make out in his ear.
“Oh,” said Mr. Greene, “I’ll be there in a moment.” He turned to Roderick, “Excuse me. It seems I have been called on business. I won’t be long.” Roderick watched him walked out of the room.
****
Percy opened the book and continued to read:
He finally left and I sat staring at the welts on my arms. Worse than usual. I heard sounds of father, cursing savage oaths and braking things.
The boy returned after some fifteen minutes with a box of tea leaves.“Milk and sugar?”
“No. just black.” Said Percy, not even looking at him.
He tore into my room and he started yelling at me about how I was lazy and a no good dirty rotten little whore. He grabbed clothes from my shelf and stuffed them into my wrinkled pillow sack. He told me that I was no longer part of his household and no longer associated with him. He beat me again, this time kicking me and screaming. He grabbed me and pulled me down the stairs and out the door. I crept back out back and Old Bess gave me some food to eat. But I didn’t dare go back in again.
I’m on the streets now. And I don’t know what to do.
“ ‘Ere you go.” Said the boy, handing Percy a cup of tea.
“Thank you.”
“The name’s Filch. Not a christened name, sir, but it’s what everyone calls me.’
“I’m Percy. Percy Andrews.”
“pleasure.” A knock was heard at the door.
“That must be him. I’ll introduce him.”
A tall, brooding man opened the door and stepped in, “Filch, who is this?”
“This is Mr. Andrews, sir, ‘e’s ‘ere to respond to our advertisement.”
“Charmed.” Said the man to Percy, stretching out his hand, “My name is Jason Greene.”