Brick Girl thought back
to the man who put her here.
He’d called himself Wolf.
And he smiled a wicked sneer.

She wondered if she’d be able,
when it came to the time.
Whether she could tell Mummy the bad things Wolf did.
The commitment of his crime

‘He beat me and bound me.
He made me lay still.
He hit me, he hurt me, he…
He called me His Thrill!”

Remembering his words,
she looked at her clothes.
Stained by virgin blood.
Soaked with tears and woes.

‘That was your first and last lesson
in growing older.
It’s for your own good I keep you here,’
that, the last lie, Wolf told her.

‘Now quit your weeping
and acting forlorn.
Or I’ll teach ya another lesson.
Then you’ll wish you was never born.’

Wolf dragged Brick Girl
by her fetters, by her hair.
To a shrine he’d been preparing,
deep, deep within his lair.

Thud! Crack! Thump!  
was the sound of her descent.
As she tumbled down the stairs,
into the basement.

It was a neglected dank place,
which smelled of foetid pond.
Unremarkable but for a hole in one wall,
leading to a hollow beyond.

Wolf led Brick Girl to the cavity,
and without even a goodbye.
He shoved her into the cavern:
the place where she would die.

She passed dry magnolia flakes,
dandruff on the plaster.
Which feebly clung to crumbling chalkboard:
the first layers of strata.

Then past staunch timber supports
straddling traditional red brick.
Copper and lead pipe veined this epidermis,
ten inches thick.

Then the repair began,
the lesion in the wall healed.
And so the girl was bricked up,
where she, and her fate, would be sealed.

Brick by brick,
the wall sealed further.
Plaster over mortar,
until her moans were barely a murmur.

Fresh pine skirting board,
followed by cream paint.
Covering all traces of a sight
that would make a grown man faint


Delirious now with thirst.
Exhausted from weeping.
Numbed by the bindings.
Blood, from her privates, still seeping.

Yet a tranquil peace descended over Brick Girl,
as she felt safe in her cell.
Relief now – out of Wolf’s touch.
This bruised angel, demented by hell.

Trussed up and detained.
Barricaded inside the house.
No company but the dust mites.
And a curious wee mouse.

The mouse had a nibble
on Brick Girls restricting ropes
‘Maybe, if mouse keeps chewing, I’ll get free!’
That was her last hope.

And chew the mouse did,
gnawing through hessian threads.
But not fast enough for Brick Girl, because by the time the ropes were loose 
she was well-and-truly dead.

Upon awakening from her death,
she discovered the Afterlife was a lie.
As Brick Girl did not see Heaven
when she opened up her dead eyes.

No rolling silver clouds.
No pearly wrought iron gate.
No “Welcome to Paradise”,
from St.Peter, the Saint.

She had passed on,
into the land of Hereafter.
With no Mum nor Dad, no hugs, no warmth.
No little brother’s laughter

She was still inside Wolf’s domain
the stale pocket where she had died.
Still a captive between these walls.
Broken, she cried.
And cried.
And cried.


It was some time before
this spiritless girl became aware
that her bonds, shackles, and tethers
lay limp on the floor all around her.

‘A small mercy,’ she thought,
wiping tears from her face.
She stretched her legs and eased her joints,
in this small but surplus space.

As Brick Girl grew accustomed
to this dismal dusky light,
She spotted a tiny scuttering form
that gave her a tiny fright.

It was the mouse,
whom had nibbled through her ropes!
He said with a squeak, ‘I know you’re dead,
but don’t abandon all hope.’

‘You talk?’ Brick Girl gasped,
not believing what she had heard.
‘Nah, not me,’ replied the rodent, ‘a talking mouse!
That’s completely absurd!’

Brick Girl laughed out loud
at what the mouse had said.
She’d obviously become deranged
in her transition to becoming dead.

Her mood sobered
as this thought of mortality refined.
When she remembered the love and the loss
of all those left behind.

‘Are you lonely?’
asked the wee mouse,
‘cos you’re not the first girl
to stay in this house.

I shall give you a tour
of the gaps in the walls.
I shall introduce you
to the citizens of Plasterboard Falls’

Off scurried the mouse
through a gap in the brickwork
‘Follow me,’ he squeaked, as he ran into the dark
where spiders and creepy things lurk

So down the tiny passageway,
Brick Girl pursued the rodent.
It paused, looked back, then scampered on.
Up the wall by the chimney it went.

Across the beams,
through the vents.
Under floorboards,
holding vulgar scents.

Over ceilings cramped with
interior light fittings,
cables, wires and screws.
Past loose nails and woodchippings

Whenever she got within arms reach,
the mouse would again dash off
Inviting Brick Girl to chase
Leading her up to the loft

Beneath a skylight the mouse halted,
waiting for its slower friend.
As in the zenith of this building,
they’d reached their journey’s end.

Brick Girl stretched up straight,
feeling stiff from the crawl.
Moonlight bathed the dusty attic,
revealing shadows moving by the wall.

With sudden panic,
she thought that following the mouse may be her last regret.
As before-her-eyes, tenebrae cohered together,
fashioning an ominous silhouette.

A spectre-child stepped forth,
her substance seemed paper-thin.
She had sunken, bruised, dead eyes.
But also the sweetest of grins.

‘Pleased to meet you.
I’m Mary-Anne Bones.’
Said this ghost of a girl
with the most delicate of groans

‘Allow me to introduce Jenny and Josie;
The Cadaver Twins.’
Both had no balls in their eyes,
nor teeth in their grins.

As first impressions go,
these kids were not in the best-of-health.
But then Brick Girl considered
she must look quite a sight herself.

Mouse continued introductions
where Mary had left off.
Nodding towards another girl
whose head was the shape of a shelf

‘Meet Emily Aneurysm.
Her head’s full of wood!
‘And that girl in the corner’, Mouse pointed.
‘She’s little Red Riding Hood!

Red was the first girl Wolf took,’
explained the mouse.
‘She was really very surprised,
because this is her Grandma’s house!’


chapter 3…


6 Responses to “2 – brick girl”

  1. Yozhi Says:

    Very dark man… intense but entertaining read… as much as I detest the actions discussed..I think it’s brilliant and love the poetry flow through-out. If brutality is what you are aiming for to create a certain atmosphere for the reader, then I can understand the ethics that has gone into this story.. It’s like a death metal band having lyrics about killing people.. most of these bands haven’t killed anyone but its a dark approach towards creating a different atmosphere from your typical one.. Rather than this read being rejected for its controversy.. I would rather embrace it as mind-opening in regards to the realism of our harsh world… but these are just my opinions.. Reminds me a lot of the Urban Gothica Series that where on channel 5 years ago… Recommended if your interested in these kind of twisted plots.

    • getting the rhythm while still telling the story was by far the hardest part of writing this beast, but i really feels it pays off in parts. AND it makes the black elements in the story that bit more horrific when they’re told in a childlike verse.
      yup, its a work of fiction. the violence is present, but this is a story about the victims and how they cope with what has happened to them.
      thanks for reading and commenting josh. i’ll try and track that series down too

  2. Jayne Says:

    Even though you already know my general thoughts on this brillant story, i was genuinely intrigued to read it again 5yrs later. This was ur first big piece of creative writing when we met all those years ago and ur imaginative mind brought together a brillantly written dark and interesting story, with pictures! I hope it finds itself in the hardback published book it deserves some day. I want the first signed copy please 😉 x

    • lol thanks bud! i have a feeling you were the first to ever see any of this.should it ever hits print, then it seems only right that you should get the first one! 😀
      [i have a story about stepping on a slug outside your house too, will have to dig that out for a laugh]

  3. Jaye Says:

    Hey, Chris, I love the story. If you finish this, there might actually be a way to publish it with your illustrations so it looks good on a ereader. Finish the tale, then let me know. It could make a very charming book (you know, in a really dark, twisted kind of way. Heh)

    • its one thing for friends to give critical comments, but another altogether for an established novelist [who’s work i enjoy] to say nice things! so thank you very much jaye :]

      and actually this is finished, i was simply posting it in bitesize chunks to gauge reaction. what’s online now is approx 1100 words, the entire thing is almost 12k. i have a whole pile of artwork to go with it, but havent looked to see whether i’d consider it to be good enough to use or not. i might go digging for that now!

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