Josipa slowly crept down the stairs, listening carefully for any noise. Faint light was cutting through the windows, casting dark shadows over the manor walls. The house was eerily quiet, there was no constant creaking of the stairs and the hum of water; it was the kind of quiet old enormous houses like these rarely possessed.

Shallow little puffs of breath escaped Josipa in the cold night air, her rapid heartbeats so thundering that she feared they would wake up the rest of the staff. This was not her first midnight stroll, but never before had she felt this growing sense of unease creeping over her, freezing her blood, and making her lips quiver. It was not the feeling of being watched, no. She knew that feeling well, as the housekeeper watched her every move, every piece of china she ever polished. This was something more sinister. A chill ran down her spine and she had to make herself stay still, straining her ears before taking another step.

She quickly finished her descent down the stairs, looking both ways to make sure no one was there before she went to the kitchen. Thankfully, the hallways were always lit. The master of the house had a habit of waking up in the middle of the night and was known to roam these halls, unable to fall back asleep. For the past few weeks, every time Josipa had snuck out of her bed, her greatest worry had been that she would meet him in the hall and have to explain what she was doing awake.

Just a few more steps, she reminded herself, just a few more steps and I’m safe.

She paused once more in front of the kitchen, pressing her ear to the door to check if anyone was still there. It was just past three in the morning and the kitchen was supposed to be empty, everyone asleep. Even the scullery maids had finished their work long ago, and the cooks never started before five. When she was sure there was no one in there, she slowly opened the door and crept in. 

There was a faint light coming from the pantry, just a little slip of illumination, barely visible. If Josipa hadn’t known where to look, it would have been almost too slight to notice. She navigated her path by touch, the moonlight coming from the window was just enough for her to cross the room without knocking anything over. She carefully pried the pantry door open.

“Kato, are you here?” she whispered. 

No answer came from the inside.

“Kato?” she tried again but to no avail. 

Josipa slipped inside and saw that the pantry was empty, but a small candle was placed on one of the shelves. She frowned, wondering who would’ve left a lit candle here. The wood could’ve caught fire if someone knocked it over, and, besides, no one but Kata and her even went in here during the night. Maybe Kata had left it here for her? But then, where was Kata? She’d said she would be there, reassuring Josipa earlier today that she would not miss it.

Not for the first time, under her breath, Josipa cursed the new housekeeper and the new maids. It was all mighty fine while Kata and she had been sharing a room before. They were not suspicious, no one raised an eyebrow when they retired for the night at the same time. And they were always so careful. They had never even spent the whole night in the same bed. It was too much of a risk, they were too scared they would fall asleep and be discovered in the morning. And then the new housekeeper had arrived at Lužnica Manor, and from her first day she’d started making changes, firing people left and right for no reason. In the beginning, Josipa was scared to death she would get fired too. Kata would be safe, Josipa knew, as no one was as skilled with a needle and thread as Kata was; her stitches and patchwork were a thing of beauty, and no sane employer would let her go. But Josipa had no special skills, no hidden knowledge, no talent that would make her invaluable. She was honest and a hard worker, but there were tons of poor girls who would kill for a position in a house as respectable as this one.

So now Josipa gave it everything she had, working herself into the ground. Even with all of that, she had to change sleeping rooms, and was left without the only person who brought her genuine joy. Kata had taken the change hard as well, even going as far as talking about them both finding new positions. But it was too risky to leave such a secure post and stable income, not when the country was in a worse place than ever, political uprisings happening left and right. If anyone was to find out about them, no one from Zagorje would’ve taken them on, they would be forced to leave Lužnice, leave Zaprešić all together. They had no guarantee they would find another job, even less of a chance they would find it together. So, they stayed in the manor, working together, seeing each other every day, even if for a few stolen moments each night.

That was why Josipa was currently hiding in a pantry in the middle of the night, waiting for her girl to come, to steal a few kisses before they had to start pretending once again. But Kata was late. Or she was not coming, Josipa didn’t know. She strained her ears listening for any sound, for any indication that Kata was on her way, but only the deadly silence responded.  Her gaze was once again drawn to the flickering flame of the candle. The faint glimmer deeply unnerved her. The door to the pantry was shut and there were no windows, so why was it moving? Another shiver crawled down her spine. Josipa bent down to put out the light, but before she could open her mouth to blow, she froze, the hairs on her hands and neck standing up. A sound crept to her ears, not loud, but out of place, like a faint whisper, or a wet slap of the mop as it scrubbed the floors.

Another thump. It took her a moment to realise it was coming from the outside, like rain pattering against the windows. When had it started raining? 

The pattering grew louder and this time something compelled Josipa to take the candle in her hand and to move deeper into the pantry, seeking shelter, her back brushing against the wooden shelves filled with various pickled goods and bags of flour, potatoes, and onions. food. Was she imagining it or did it grow louder? 

She could hear the tapping of feet, like someone walking in soaked boots.

Was it Kata coming to her? But why would Kata be wet, why would she go outside? As the questions rolled around in Josipa’s head, she became painfully aware of the tight grasp she held on the candle stand. It was cutting into the meat of her palm, and she realised that it would draw blood if she didn’t loosen her grip. She stared into the flame, transfixed, unable to pull away. 

Pain stabbed behind her eyes, followed by a prickling sensation like she was about to cry. Her gaze unfocused and focused again, drawn by the flame. She knew the light of the fire was giving away her position and that she should extinguish it, but the mere thought of staying here in the utter darkness was unbearable.

How could she explain hiding in the pantry in the middle of the night if someone caught her? They would surely think she was stealing food. The mere possibility filled her with dread.

She was ripped from the downward spiral of her thoughts by loud, undeniably human footsteps appearing on the other side of the pantry doors. There were two sets of steps in the kitchen now, doors closing and then she could hear the murmur, but the room stayed completely dark.

Josipa shielded the flame with her hands, overcome with a strong premonition that something horrible would happen if she put it out. She stood silent, barely breathing, trying to understand what she was hearing. There was a scared whimper and something unintelligible from the other side of the pantry door. This time she recognized the voice: it was Marta, one of the older maids. Josipa scurried closer, gathering the courage to peek through the keyhole. From the narrow hole she could only see a faint outline of Marta and someone next to her. Josipa brought up the candle closer to the keyhole, to see better, flames briefly warming her cold cheeks.

“What is happening?” Marta asked quietly, her voice barely carrying behind the thick wooden door. 

“I don’t know,” came the response.

Josipa could not decipher who the other person was, and the hole was too small to see, but the voice was female.

“I heard the screams from the first floor, and I saw people running… but I don’t know.”

Josipa almost gasped out loud. First floor. That was where the children’s rooms were.

“Do you think the children are fine?” There was an unmistakable note of dread in Marta’s voice.

“I don’t know.” The other woman sounded angry.

Then the wet slap reappeared. Marta and the other woman stopped talking. 

“Did you hear that? It sounded like it was coming from the hallway”, Marta whispered after a few seconds. There was no reply. 

At that point Josipa wanted to get out, felt an urge so great it almost hurt her. Where was Kata? Why didn’t she come? What was happening on the first floor? Why didn’t Josipa hear any disturbance? The mansion was enormous, but she thought any louder sound could pierce the veil of silence the house was under tonight. 

The kitchen door banged open. A silhouette coated in light appeared in the doorway and went in without hesitation. Josipa was still crouching on the pantry floor, too curious to resist peeking through the keyhole. A young maid had burst into the kitchen, hysterical, and the other two tried to calm her while she panted desperately. “They are all dead!” she wailed.

Too loud, was the first thought that passed through Josipa’s head. The maid was too loud. He would hear it. Who? Josipa didn’t know. But she knew they had to keep quiet.

“What do you mean? Tell us!” she heard Martha’s furious whispers.

“He killed them. The Mistress, the children…” the girl wailed again. 

Someone was dead. Fear and despair, curiosity and instinct to survive all mixed together in Josipa’s head.

“Who?” she heard the question being asked. 

But Josipa didn’t get to hear the answer. Through the narrow hole, she could see the master of the house appearing at the door, illuminated by the lamps in the hallway, bloody and dishevelled. The maids shrieked in unison, fleeing further into the kitchen, so Josipa couldn’t see them anymore. Instinctively, she lowered the candle and moved it away from the door so she could see what was happening but not betray her position.

If it weren’t for the blade dripping blood in his hand, Josipa would think Master was hurt. He raised his blade, quietly cackling, ignoring the screams.

In the next few seconds, things unravelled so fast that Josipa couldn’t quite grasp what she was seeing and hearing. There were screams of fear, of terror, running, and crying. Someone was begging for mercy and it intertwined with gut-churning stabs and the crash of something heavy hitting the floor. Through the peephole, she saw blood pooling between the floorboards. It would be so hard to remove the stains from the wooden floor, she thought. 

There was enough light coming from the hallway now that she spied the slumped form of someone who was once Marta, but was now nothing more than a corpse with intestines hanging out of her body. 

More chopping and more screaming. There was some shuffle in the corner where Josipa couldn’t see, and then the loud crash of a ceramic bowl from where fruit was stored. She saw a small form, probably the young maid that had come in last, fleeing from the door, seemingly unharmed. For a brief moment Josip felt such joy but then it dawned on her.

She was now alone with Master. 

The silence had settled over the kitchen and he stood in the middle of the room, dripping blood, carefully poised as he was listening. Josipa held her breath, not daring to move, to blink, desperate not to make a sound. If he realised she was here, it would be  all over for her. No place to run, no place to hide.

She was not sure how long it lasted, a minute or an hour, but in the end, he turned away and went into the hallway, no doubt to hunt down the young maid.

When she was sure he had gone away, Josipa moved from the door, careful to not knock down anything, settling back deeper into the pantry and taking the candle into her grasp one again, the slight flame the only thing keeping her sane. She held it close to her face, revelling in the brief comfort of warmth and light. Breathe in, breathe out. She was safe in here, at least for now. She had to get out sooner or later, had to find Kata, who was probably hiding somewhere, as well. She needed to find her and they needed to leave this godforsaken house.

But she was so tired, chilled to the bone even if no cold air reached the pantry. I will sit here just for a second, she thought, just a moment of rest before I have to run. Breathe in, breathe out. She followed the flame with her eyes, shifting left and right, her eyelids growing heavy with every passing moment.

When Josipa opened her eyes the next time, there was light peeking through the doors. It startled her. There was no sound of rain, but there was a faint broom, like the sound of a motorcar, coming from not that far away. It was morning. Kata and she must’ve fallen asleep, Josipa realized with a start. How could she have been that stupid? If someone had come in and found them sleeping in the pantry… her gaze searched for Kata, but the other girl was nowhere to be seen. Josipa’s only company in this small, cramped space was the candle, which was, against all odds, still lit.

 Memories of last night came then, in all their terrible glory. In the light of the day, it all seemed like a fever dream, a nightmare born out of fear and a guilty conscience. She had no time to further dwell on it. She would have to be fast if she wanted to find Kata and run away before they get spotted. She had already wasted so much time falling asleep, and she wanted to berate herself, worried she was already too late, that sometime awful had already been done. Kata was fine, Josipa reassured herself, there was simply no other option.

Carefully, Josipa took the candle, the faint flame still shimmering, giving her some semblance of safety, preparing her for the exit.

Opening the door, she was greeted by a bright light streaming through windows, blinding her for a moment. It took a few precious seconds for her eyes to adjust, in sudden pain, seconds in which she could’ve been spotted, hurt, killed. When she finally pried her eyelids open, the picture sharpened, and she was struck dumb.

Where was she?

This was not the kitchen she’d passed through last night. It was the wrong color, tables and chairs were missing, and the door to the scullery was taken down so Josipa could see something weird, rectangular and white, making noise in the back.

Why was there no blood? Where was everyone? Had he really killed them all? Had he killed her Kata? Josipa’s mind tried to stop her from falling into a pit of despair. No, surely, Kata was somewhere safe. If Kata had been harmed in any way, Josipa believed she would have felt it as well, like a flesh wound that refused to heal.

Was he still in the manor? 

As if to answer her, footsteps sounded, coming closer. Not even thinking about it, Josipa turned around, fled back into the pantry, and gasped, her eyes frantically roaming around the enclosed space. The rows of canned fruits and vegetables were missing, the shelves empty, the wrong color, and almost as if built from metal.

She heard voices close now, just behind the door, speaking Croatian, but she could not discern the words. Her limbs trembling, she opened the door just a sliver, just to see what was happening in the kitchen.

There were two people in there, a man and a woman, their voices unfamiliar, their words weird and warped. Josipa had never heard people speaking like that, never seen a woman wearing clothes like that, almost like she was pretending to be a man. It made her feel oddly ashamed.

“What do you think about it?” the man asked. “Should we tear it down or leave it as it is?”

Josipa couldn’t understand them properly, didn’t have a clue what they were talking about. She was too exhausted to think clearly anymore. This isolation, strangeness, this feeling of wrongness terrified her far more than Master and his bloody knife did the last night. If she didn’t move soon, she was bound to be found. And what was she even waiting for? In a moment of bravery, or madness, Josipa exited the pantry.      

The man and the woman didn’t turn around, didn’t even indicate they’d heard her.

“Excuse me,” Josipa said, surprised with how calm she sounded, “could you tell me who you are? And where I am?”

Once more, they didn’t turn, didn’t react to the sound of her voice.

It made her bold, made her cross the kitchen to stand behind them. “Excuse me,” she started again, and then stopped. “Could you tell me where we are?”

No response. Instead, they started to walk and, as if controlled by some unseen force, she followed them. They passed through the long hallway, but there were no pictures there anymore, no thick rugs or candelabras to light up the space. As in a dream or, rather, a nightmare, Josipa followed them up to the first floor, down a hallway that led to the west wing, where Master’s rooms were. The pair talked all the while, but Josipa could hardly understand anything at all, their accents so foreign she wished to inquire from where they came. They stopped in front of the smallest of the three rooms, the one where the darling children slept. Josipa felt her heart lurch, dreading the opening of the door. She did not want to know, yet she still trailed in behind them. They moved around the room, touching and commenting, and Josipa watched them mesmerised. In her moment of inattention, she put the candle on the nearest dresser and continued following them around the strange room. The couple halted in front of a weird looking mirror, which was not there just yesterday.  

“We need to get rid of it, it’s hideous,” the woman commented, going to the closet and opening the door. “The other furniture is quite nice.”

As soon as she had moved, Josipa had an unobstructed view at the mirror and the man still standing in front of it. She was so close she could see the parts where he’d neglected to shave, a little patch of dark hair on the underside of his jaw, but even while standing right next to him, Josipa couldn’t see her own reflection.

She looked around desperately. Cold wind coming from the open windows ruffled her hair and made her shiver, but the mirror showed none of it. She wished so desperately for Kata, wished she had never left her own bed last evening, wished she was still hidden among the pantry shelves, in the dark, safe. Now, more than ever, she felt so alone, so lost she feared she would start to weep at any moment. The couple moved to exit the room but she stood there, rooted in place.

“Look at this.” she heard the woman say.

“Where did you find it? It looks old.” The man responded. 

It took Josipa a moment to realize what they were looking at. The candle. It was in that strange woman’s hand.

It was the only thing in this strange room that looked the same as it did last night. Save for the one notable change.

The flame had gone out. 

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Candle in the Night © 2024. Petra Pine

[EN] Petra Pine was born in Zagreb and currently still lives there, working as a speech therapist. She likes all the things young people like, mostly fuzzy animals (except spiders), starting six titles at the same time and then bingeing a show instead of reading any of said six books. When not complaining about her job or not having inspiration/time to write, she can be found in the dog park, a bookstore, or a coffee shop. She’s still tirelessly working on becoming Morina kutija’s nepo baby.

The story Candle in the Night was originally published in the Morina kutija, no. 6 (siječanj, 2024). You can download it for free from our site or Smashwords.

[HR] Petra Pine rođena je u Zagrebu i trenutno tamo radi kao logopedinja. Voli sve što vole mladi, a u to većinom ubraja: čupave životinje (osim paukova), započinjanje šest knjiga odjednom i onda bingeanje serije umjesto čitanja spomenutih šest knjiga. Kad ne kuka oko posla ili oko toga kako nema inspiracije/vremena za pisanje, može je se pronaći u parku s psima, u knjižari ili kako negdje ispija kavu. Neumorno radi na tome da postane nepo baby Morine kutije.

Priča Candle in the Night objavljena je u online časopisu Morina kutija, br. 6 (siječanj, 2024.). Časopis možete skinuti ovdje ili s platforme Smashwords.

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