REDRUM

(A collaboration story with Meraaj Hussain)

The cool night breeze whistled softly, as the young children shivered in their ‘warm’ bed’s. One particular boy sat up in his bed in the corner of the room (the worst part of the room) and watched the midnight sky. The next day he sat in front of the gates of the orphanage moaning ‘REDRUM’.

That evening a very kind, old lady looked meticulously at the boy, which was known as RedRum because of how he always repeated those words whether he was in bed or if someone asked him a question, and she thought to herself if she should adopt him or if she should forget about him. In the end, she hesitantly took him in her own hands.

If you looked at the boy, you wouldn’t be able to tell if he was happy or sad, he would look emotionless. When he entered his new humble abode, he got a tour of his house and made himself feel at home. The next day was RedRum’s birthday, his carer bought a small cake for him and her (the old woman’s husband died). When the old women called out his false name, he didn’t come (which was unusual because he was a very obedient boy) so the women investigated. First the sitting room, then his room. Anywhere she looked, she saw the letters REDRUM in his room everywhere. In the mirror, she saw red rum except it spelt out backwards MURDER. And her soul was no more…