spoon of Ed

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic


a short story i wrote after finding a wooden spoon with a name written on the back in my kitchen, so i managed to turn it a dark chuck palahniuk-esque story! feedback welcome please.

Submitted: August 22, 2018

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Submitted: August 22, 2018

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Monday

 

I don’t know when I first noticed it - probably when I was making scrambled egg on Sunday or when I was … making scrambled egg on Saturday. But I remember the feeling when I noticed it. Written on the back on the wooden spoon in the kitchen drawer was two letters that spelt out the name “Ed”.

 

Who was Ed? There was no one in my family by that name. How have we managed to to have a wooden spoon in the drawer with the name ‘Ed’ on the back. I was dumbfounded. No one knew - I asked. Mum, Dad, no one knew. It simply existed. I even asked mum how we acquired the spoon and she couldn’t recall - ‘we’ve had it for years' apparently. Neither of my parents seemed particularly concerned by it though. So it had Ed written on the back - so what?

 

But I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I couldn’t understand how it would get there (in our kitchen, if it belonged to someone else) and why it would be written there - surely people don’t go to the shop and buy wooden spoons or various other household appliances with random names written on them in black felt tip? Did someone called ‘Ed’ break into our house and put it there? I simply couldn’t understand. The mystery consumed me so much that I didn’t realise HOW much - I literally couldn’t stop thinking about it for the rest of the week.

 

Thursday

 

An hour. One hour. I decided to make scrambled egg again, for reasons unknown. But I got the spoon and stared at it. For one whole hour. Even with the cooking oil burning on the frying pan and setting off the fire alarm, but I had no idea. Even when dad came in and shouted at me. I had no idea. I couldn’t stop staring at the spoon. The spoon of Ed, I was calling it in my head. Why do we have a spoon with Ed written it? Did it belong the someone called Ed? Was the spoon it self called Ed? The same questions just went round and round and round. Even when my parents sat me down to tell me they were worried about me. I told them they didn’t need to worry. No one needs to worry about me. I’m just a normal teenager. Hormones - thats what I said to them. Just hormones. They seemed to buy that.

 

I mean it was true, but the mystery of the spoon was really rattling my brain. I followed it up by asking them if there was anyone in our family called Ed, and was sent to bed without supper. Which hadn’t happened since I shat in Dads shed.

 

Saturday

 

I woke up with it next to me. The spoon. I honestly couldn’t remember taking it with me to bed? I sat up last night watching The Evil Dead, which had a disturbing tree rape scene that gave me a nightmare. But then I woke up this morning with my arm wrapped loosely around the spoon as it lay next to me tucked under the duvet. No idea how it got there. Couldn’t understand why it was wet/slightly red either. Or why I woke up with a sore arsehole. Couldn’t think of any scenario as to why those two things could be explained.

 

 

Sunday

 

I went to bed early but couldn’t sleep. Usually thats to down overthinking. But this time…. I don’t know. It felt like something was ‘calling’ me. That I kept hearing a voice in my head. Like an urge and I couldn’t rest until I fulfilled this urge. It didn’t sound like anything in particular, just … I don’t know. Like a calling. Just in my head. It only stopped when I went down to the kitchen, got the Spoon and took it to bed with me. Then I slept like a baby. Just a coincidence I’m sure.

 

Monday

 

Getting ready for school and there was a I point where I stopped. I stopped getting dressed and just stared at the spoon. Again, I felt like something was calling to me. Like a warm feeling inside that manifested into an urge. Whilst hearing a voice. The urge I had was to take the spoon to school with me. Almost as if the spoon itself was communicating to me. But thats ridiculous of course. I still put it in my school bag, but it’s ridiculous. Its probably just puberty or something.

 

Monday evening

 

So I got into a trouble at school. Doesn’t happen often. I took the spoon out during class and stared at it. Started wondering again, who Ed might have been. If, somehow, this spoon did have powers, then did ‘Ed’ have powers too? Was he a witch doctor or something? I thought about it long and hard. It seemed like only 5 minutes but turned out I was doing it for the whole class, and the teacher had even tried to talk to me on several occasions and even started shouting at me when it appeared I was ignoring her. So she gave me detention. By 4pm, thats where I was. Every other teacher and left for the day so as far as I understood it was just me and her left in the building. She was very strict and had been known to do keep students back for hours on end. She gave me a lecture about how I needed to start paying attention in class as I was messing up my work and my future and was falling behind etc etc. I started drifting off towards the end and started thinking about other things. The only thing was I can’t recall who was doing the thinking. I couldn’t tell if the thoughts were my own or….well put it this way, I had the same feeling as this morning and last night when I thought, ridiculously, that the spoon was talking to me. I was still trying to thinking out whose voice I was hearing even as I choked my teacher to death. Couldn’t figure it out. I thought about it the whole way home as I calmly left detention and went home. Wasn’t really any point staying there as my teacher lay lifeless on the floor. But I got home and and seemed to forget about it then as I sat down to watch TV. With the spoon of Ed sat next to me on the sofa.

 

Tuesday

 

A few adults spent the day asking me questions about when was the last time I saw my teacher alive. Teachers, police at the school and then parents. No one seemed to know what happened. Sounds like Mrs Norris hadn’t let anyone know who’d be in detention with her. No security cameras at the school either strangely. Someone cut the footage. That might have been me, I can’t remember. When I answered the questions though, it wasn’t me talking though, thats the thing. I felt like someone was talking for me, or telling me what to say. The fact the spoon had been in my school bag may have been connected to this but I doubt it. Anyway when I got home I asked my younger sister Jane if I could borrow the clothes of one of her Barbie dolls. My thinking - at least I think it was my thinking - was that if this spoon is communicating with me, I may as well give it an identity. So I dressed it in my sisters dolls clothes. Looked like a small person, just with a spoon head. I almost felt proud to be standing above it as it lay on the bed. So I masturbated over it before I went to bed.

 

 

Wednesday

 

Dad found the spoon in my drawer dressed in Janes Barbie clothes. Said he and mother had been looking for it for ages. Wanted to know what I was playing at. He gets very angry when he’s worried. He said he’d snap the spoon in half if I took it again, it’s just a wooden spoon after all he said. The thought of this happening made me very angry and … that voice again. In my head. As I fought my anger the voice returned to say ‘don’t let him break us up’. I felt compelled to look at this spoon in my dads hand as he waved it at me. Now he was asking why it was sticky and messy and red and smelled of shit and spunk.  It was as if the spoon was talking to me and that was the only voice I was hearing. I was pretty calm when I picked up my hockey stick. I didn’t think anything of it. The voice was now saying ‘do it’. I was totally calm. It was as if the spoon - if the spoon was the voice I was hearing - was the only voice that mattered as I cracked the hockey stick over my dads skull.

 

Thursday

 

I would have to leave I decided. Find Ed. Things were getting out of control. The spoon clearly had some hold over me and unless I returned it to Ed, whoever Ed, was, it was the only way all of this would stop. So I started packing my bags. My mind was clear as day. I packed the spoon last. Stared at it for ages. ‘It’s just us now’ the spoon told me. I smiled. I knew this was the only way. Return it to it’s owner and maybe things would be ok. Maybe me and the spoon would be ok. First before I left I would have to deal with my mother as she was starting to scream after finding my Dads body.

 

Monday

 

I’m staying with some new people for a moment. A hostel or hotel, I can’t recall. I think I’m ill so I’m just resting here for a few days until I continue my journey to find this mysterious Ed, owner of the spoon that talks to me. Can’t remember how I got here. The people here are so supportive. The even want to help me. I can’t recall having this many friends. It’s all very emotional but it’s been a strange journey. It surely won’t be long now until I find Ed and return this spoon to him. Then everything will be fine. I’m sure of it.

 

Dr Sanchez's office

 

Dr Sanchez sat across from Dr Thorne he discussed his latest patient, Matthew Potts, 16 years old, brought in to Wandsworth mental asylum after murdering his teacher and parents.

“It’s quite sad really” said Dr Sanchez. “He is so young but appears to be suffering from a severe Psychotic disorder. He murdered his teacher and both his parents and doesn’t appear to grasp the gravity of what he has done. He has a diary, which as a test, I let him to continue to write in even after he was brought here and he seems to think he is in a hostel or home of some kind.”

Dr Thorne shook her head. She was still young and was a kind of unofficial apprentice to Dr Sanchez and was now due to be assisting him in the case of Matthew.

“Tragic” she muttered. “Any cause or trigger? Was he abused do you think?”

Dr Sanchez shook his head “ I don’t think so” he replied. “ But … looking through his diary and from conversations, he appears to be fixated on a wooden spoon, which he believes to be alive”

“A wooden spoon?” exclaimed Dr Thorne leaning forward in dismay.

“Yes” Dr Sanchez nodded as he glanced at his watch. “He found a wooden spoon in his kitchen one day with a name written on the back. It seemed to fascinate him to a huge extent. He became obsessed over it, started putting more emphasis and meaning to it. It practically took over his life so much so that he seemed to believe the spoon was communicating to him. He is suffering from delusions obviously and I believe this caused him to embark on his murdering spree, but lets discuss more of this after lunch shall we? I am starving!” he finished rubbing his hands.

“Sure” Dr Thorne replied and they both rose to their feet. “I’ll just grab my coat” said Dr Thorne as Dr Sanchez grabbed his.  As he did so though, something fell out of his coat pocket, and the sound of it landing on the floor caught Dr Thorne’s attention. She stopped on her way out and turned to look at it.

“Edward, what’s that?” Dr Thorne asked, nodding towards the object that had fallen on the floor. Dr Sanchez didn’t answer straight away because he was in shock as he stared at the object that had fallen out of his pocket. He had no idea how it had got in his pocket. He’d never seen it before and yet, it was an object he had come to hear so much about in recent days.

“I have no idea” stuttered Dr Sanchez as they both stared at the wooden spoon as it lay on the floor.


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