The Beasts in the Night
By Tayleah Burgmann
Layla was trapped beneath the muscled arms, choking from the smell of the boy's sweat and her own blood. Her body was numb, feeling did not exist except for the cold knife at her throat, leaving her powerless to fight for herself. The group of boys often waited for Layla to walk past the dark alleyway, the street light across the road eliminated the road only briefly as well as the entrance to the alleyway. Everyday she was targeted in the light of the moon. Layla was their physical way to feel powerful in their worthless existence, beating and forcing her to do things that they wanted and she did not.
“Elijah you've had your fun with the stupid bitch. It's my turn!” a second boy growled from within the circled group.
Layla's eyes were barred shut, fearful that if she opened them that this nightmare would become real, her hands pale and wrinkled from the two puddles that they drew small circles in, she was unsure if the puddle was water or some other foul liquid nor did she care enough to move her hands from the wetness. As Elijah's weight lifted off her naked body she began to shiver, scraping her already scraped arms on the wet surface that she lay on. Each shudder down her body an extra step was taken by the boy that believed that it was his turn next. She did not try to get up, she knew there was no point. Layla's body became unresponsive to her mind, shutting down from the trauma that it could not bare, the alleyway, though already dark, became completely pitch black.
Layla could see through her eyelids the street lamps' small blur of light, it was not until her eyes had opened that she remembered what had been done to her. She did not know how long she was out for nor how long it had gone on for, but she did not feel in control of her body as it shivered within the cold autumn breeze. Layla had not realised she was naked until she stared at her left hand resting in some form of liquid, her white top only a fingertip away, whilst her pants sat crumpled up just past her feet. Her mind was not in control of her feeling or actions as Layla dressed herself, the white top could hardly be called a top anymore ripped into shreds, transparent from the liquid from the cold concrete ground and her pants, torn and stretched at the waist and ankles the pretty blue button missing within the alleyway. She stood for a while, watching as the morning mist rose up to meet her ankles, coloured purple and blue from the group of boys' hands gripping them. She began to walk, shaky from the worn off adrenaline.
Layla’s parents did not wake, as she opened the creaking door nor did they wake as she climbed the stairs, each step slower than the first but louder, echoing one another. Layla reached the bathroom connected to her room, closing the door behind her, she waited for the click and sometime after that before she ripped what was left of her top off her shaking body. She did not cry has her pants came of and the warm water of the shower stung her shallow cuts, she did not cry at the dirt and blood that pooled around her feet, she did cry though at her cracked and bloodied nails evidence of how hard she had fought and how deep that loss had gone within her mind and body.
Layla woke up angry. The smell and sound of her mum making breakfast only intensified her anger. She did not know why she felt this anger but she could not stop herself from storming down the stairs unaware of the creaking this time around. She looked at her mother happily singing within the kitchen and her fist clenched, her shattered nails digging into the palm of her hands.
“Good morning Layla,” her mother said in her sing song tone, her smile as broad as it could go.
“Shut up! I don’t want to talk to you and I don’t want to see you smile in my face like that!” Layla’s mother's smile instantly vanished as if it had never existed, her lips tightly sealed. Layla stormed back up the stairs, her ears unable to comprehend the sound of her mother’s yelling only hearing ringing within her own ears. She had slammed her door without realising, her room now a cell to keep people away from her. She knew her mum was upset but she could not find it in herself to care, not as her hands again were the focus point for her stare.
That anger Layla felt that had already intensified, began to feel like a living emotion that was crawling beneath her skin, it seemed to grow and increase its speed as she became agitated, trapped within her room. Layla rushed to her bathroom needing to feel cold water on her face, needing it to drown the emotion that lived inside her. Her hands, reaching for the water stopped, her mind at last controlling her movements. Layla did not need the water to drown her anger because her fear seemed to do it just as well, as she looked at her hands. Her nails were no longer cracked but hooked, sharp enough to cut through the concrete with which she had laid on the night before, her pale hand disappearing beneath a layer of black fur, her fear drowned out by excruciating pain dancing along her spine, within her mouth. Layla’s scream was not high pitched as it should have been but more of a growl. Her eyes at last moving from her hands searching for the answer of her pain within her reflection from the mirror. What she saw was horrifying, Layla’s eyes glowed yellow, her pupils slitted, her hair short and black like the fur that grew on her hands, her nose stretched becoming a snout, her teeth grew sharp and her ears became pointed. Layla had become the very thing that children were told to fear in their storybooks, she had become a werewolf. Her eyes drifted from the horrific scene in front of her to the area behind her that now held her mother and father, all colour drained from their faces, white as death. They both screamed whilst clutching one another, a baseball bat held limp in her fathers hand. Layla did not know how but she could smell the fear that drenched her parents. She could smell the intent of her father towards her, she moved before the bat could Catch her in the ribs and moved again before it caught her in her bowed legs, bent and made for the reason of speed. Layla did not let her father try once more to harm her, running out the door towards her shut window. Leaping through, shattering glass on her way out.
Layla stood in the shadows that were not touched by the light of the street lamp, watching her parents figures running for a phone. She knew she could not stay here so she prowled the streets on her four legs so much stronger then the two that she used in her human form. She did not know what happened but she knew that the living anger was back within her, and she was hungry, so hungry for the boys that made her feel this way. Layla stuck to the shadows walking the mesmerised path that would take her past the hidden alleyway. She reached where she wanted to be, on the outskirts of the darkness that was just untouched by the now flickering street light, as if sensing her power. Her improved hearing allowed her to listen in on the group of boys, each voice so familiar, her pointed ears twitching to the beat of their voices that sounded like a hateful melody.
“She won’t come past here, she will be too afraid. She’ll be too embarrassed of how we made her beg,” Layla knew the one that was laughing at his own sentence to be Elijah, the one that attacked her first, using her body first. Although her eyesight had improved and she could see for miles, the rage of hearing the group of boys laughing at her, at what they had done caused her to see only red, her anger building up taking control of her body. Before she knew what she was doing, Layla had torn apart all the boys but one with her hooked claws, blood splattered and dripped along the dark wall unable to be made out without the light of day. She had left the worst of the boys for last, Elijah. Layla's breath was steady as Elijahs came quickly; he had fallen at some point, his body frozen in fear, still if it was not for the shivers that racked his body. Layla took her time walking to him, her claws scratching the concrete making their own beautiful melody, his eyes widened almost popping from out of his head as she swung.
Layla felt unsteady on her two legs so familiar yet not, so weak compared to what she had just been walking on. Shifting back was not as painful, as if her body remembered what form was her true form. Layla was naked once again within the darkened alleyway, yet she was not cold this time, she felt strong and more alive then before as if taking those boys' lives had given her back what they had taken. She stood there surrounded by the overpowering stench of death and rot, blood soaking her hand and feet like ruby coloured gloves and socks, a beautiful contrast to her pale skin. Mist once again rose to Layla’s ankles, covering up her culpability forcing her to move from the crime scene before the sun shattered the mists coverage. As Layla walked out from the alleyway, her mouth spread into a smile the first and last for a long time.
Rationale
‘The beasts in the night’ does not take place in a particular setting or date but was written for modern society so the surroundings and situation of the protagonist, Layla, can be related to. Using traumatic situations in the beginning allows the reader to feel an emotional attachment for the character as well as creating a reason for Layla’s later actions.
The traumatic situation that Layla experiences is a specific way to create the idea and image of loss of innocence, meaning Layla can either shape herself positively or negatively through that loss of herself. Within gothic literature there is the idea that good conquers evil no matter what that evil is, this can be true and false when exploring ‘the beasts in the night’ depending on the reader. When Layla shifts into her werewolf form it can be interpreted that she is now the evil, and killing the group of boys does not allow any good to win, but it could also be interpreted that Layla killing the boys is conquering that evil that lives in society through many peoples opinions, by killing them she gains what was good inside of her back.
Whilst ‘the beasts in the night’ follows the straight forward themes of good vs evil it also follows gothic literature themes; mystery and fear, isolation, supernatural vs rational and madness and emotional distress. The very first paragraph allows the reader to feel the fear that Layla feels towards her attackers, the fear of what’s going to happen next. Layla's anger becoming a living emotion inside of her is mysterious, it proposes that something is about to happen because of Layla’s intense emotions but it is unpredictable in what will happen. Layla becoming a child’s nightmare (werewolf) also allows the reader to feel fear on what she will do next, the fear of the unknown is the main type of distress that the gothic text ‘the beasts in the night’ follows.
Layla isolates herself in her room to not only protect herself from others but to protect the people around her from that rage that is eating her up. Though Layla is the one to lock herself up, she is similar to Bertha, she is a character that has sympathy from the audience but later becomes feared because of the rage she feels towards her surroundings. Sandra Gilbert’s and Susan Gubar’s study “the madwoman in the attic” relies on the idea that the female like these two characters in gothic literature is an “object of sympathy as well as of fear”. The story does not clearly state that Layla feels she can not tell anyone what happened to her, but her rage and her inability to talk to her mother casually in their first ‘conversation’ with one another after the incident shows a level of emotional isolation, Layla’s feelings and actions allows the reader to comprehend what it might be like for victims within our society, “These settings provided a safe place for gothic writers to critique their own society without being direct about it” (CrimsonKas, 10/16).
By using the supernatural element of a werewolf, it allows an idea that someone human can not act on their most violent thoughts of one another but becoming a complete animal without human morals means you will become violent, acting on those violent thoughts towards someone else will make you a monster in society's eyes. The werewolf is just another use of gothic literature themes to expand the reader's fear of the story.
Layla is shown to be extremely distressed because of the traumatic situation that was forced upon her, she is becoming mad with her intense feelings of what had happened. She does not ask for help because she does not see that something is wrong with her. Her intense distress causes her to become an animal unable to follow human sanity. Killing people that had hurt her, only increases the argument that she was not human and had gone insane.
Reference list
https://crimsonkas.wordpress.com/2015/10/16/navigating-the-gothic-setting-isolation-and-labyrinths/ 20/4/21, crimsonkas
https://www.bl.uk/romantics-and-victorians/articles/the-figure-of-bertha-mason#
20/4/21 Carol Artherton