News - Granite Noir short story winner: Fenna by Emma McRuvie
As part of Granite Noir 2024, we introduced a short story competition in partnership with the Press and Journal and Evening Express. We received over 100 entries and were overwhelmed by the quality of writing. Four finalists were selected and invited to a reception where the winner was announced receiving a book cover of their story, vouchers for Waterstones and Aberdeen Performing Arts and their story published in the papers.
We were delighted to announce Emma McRuvie as the winner of our inaugural competition and look forward to watching her talent and career develop.
Fenna by Emma McRuvie
On the cusp of her hometown, a meandering single-track road seemingly to nowhere hid a small cottage. Nestled in amongst a mature pine forest, the stone building stood quietly proud. The tranquil setting was where Fenna found solace after losing her parents. Being an only child, Fenna grew up extremely close to her mother and father, spending almost every day together right until the end. Her parents were all that she had. Their passing was a catalyst for her to lead a more independent life. At 25 she had never lived alone. She chose to pour her grief into renovating the cottage. It was her parents’ first home before she was born. They didn’t stay there for long, she never really knew why. They never went there. They never attempted to sell. It just lay empty for 25 years. There were family stories of strange goings on. Warnings of the shadows in the garden. Embellished tales of their experience told to pacify the imagination of a curious child. When her parents died she couldn’t afford to keep the family home. The next best thing for her was the cottage. She wanted to bring it back to life, as if it would bring a part of them back, the part she never knew.
Her routine was mundane yet served as a comfort. Being self-employed allowed her the opportunity of flexibility that she refused. Structure kept her distracted from getting lost in her own thoughts. Her days began with breakfast followed by a walk in the forest, before settling down for work. She worked as a counsellor, helping other people through their trauma whilst doing her best to ignore her own. Her evenings were filled with renovations. Only two rooms were to be finished before she moved in. The bathroom, which was out of necessity and the living room which was out of love. The space represented family to her, its where they spent most of the time when her parents were alive. And it was where her pride and joy was, the restored wood burner. Her parents’ antique fireplace tools stood elegantly by its side. Her first night in the cottage, saw her lay back and enjoy the fruits of her labour. As she bathed in the warmth of the fire she couldn’t understand why her parents wouldn’t want to stay there.
A few weeks after moving in, an unsettling feeling began to creep into her life. It began with an overwhelming feeling that unseen eyes were fixated on her every move. She dismissed it as a byproduct of living alone for the first time, not used to the loudness that comes with silence. She spoke to her own therapist about this feeling, who reassured her that grief presents itself in different ways and maybe this was a product of that. However, the sensation persisted, growing more pronounced with each passing day.
The first time she saw it, she was in the kitchen. The sink sat in front of a large single glazed window pane. As she washed the dishes, she felt a shiver rush down her spine, and an inexplicable urge to look up. Her view outside was complete darkness. The only light came from the faint glow of her kitchen, casting shadows on the courtyard. Fenna couldn’t shake the feeling that there was someone just beyond her field of vision, convinced she saw the darkness move.
When the nights embraced silence, the shadows outside danced to music only they could hear. Faint creaks and shuffles echoed in Fenna’s ears. The rational part of her mind insisted the
shadows were tricks of the eye and the creaks were the character of an old building. But the fear lingered. Days turned into weeks, and the sensation evolved into her constant companion. She became hyper aware of her surroundings, beginning to second guess the safety of her once-familiar space and those around her. She invested in outdoor security cameras which alerted her on the phone if there was any movement detected. A once peaceful haven now felt like a cage closing in.
Fenna was awoken in the early hours with a notification. “Movement Detected Back Door”. Her heart lurched forward as she grabbed her phone. Watching the video back she could see the security light flash on the courtyard but there was nothing there. Another notification. “Motion Detected Front Door”. Her body felt like it was pulsating with anxiety. The video showed her empty illuminated front doorstep, a chill ran down her spine as she noticed a swift movement on the screen. The dark elusive shadow coming from the side of the house darted past the cameras field of view with an almost ghostly speed. Her stomach churned. Was she seeing things? She scrutinised the footage again with the same result. Fenna was frozen. The air was thick with tension, every nerve in her body screamed at her to get out. Yet an invisible force seemed to grip her in place. She focussed on sound, listening out for any noise but she was met with silence. Burying herself deeper under the duvet, her imagination conjured up all possible scenarios and outcomes until it exhausted itself and unbeknownst to her, reality blurred into a dreamscape.
The next morning, the rays of dawn filtered through the sheer curtains. Fenna’s eyes flickered open, and she found herself tangled in the remnants of a restless night. The image of the unknown shadow lingered in her mind. She checked her phone. No notifications. The room bathed in the morning suns soft glow. It felt comforting and surreal. Taking a deep breath, Fenna reached for the warmth of reality, grounding herself in familiar surroundings and banished the lingering darkness from the night before.
In the kitchen she flicked on the kettle. As it hummed to life, her gaze fell upon the worn wooden table. A chill of fear vibrated through her body as she noticed a crumpled note left amidst her dishes from the night before. She picked up the note. The paper felt like lead in her hands. The message scrawled hastily simply read, “leave”. An inexplicable foreboding gripped her, the mundane act of making tea overshadowed by five letters. She took her phone from her dressing gown pocket, the weight of fear and uncertainty pressed on her shoulders. She hesitated, contemplating the decision to break the suffocating isolation by calling the police. What could she say? She’s seeing shadows? This note ended up on the table but the camera didn’t pick up on anything and there were no signs of a break in? They would think she was mad. Maybe she was. Caught in her own thoughts, she wavered back and forth, questioning her sanity but fuelled by the idea that someone was trying to breach the sanctity of her own home, she went to purchase extra locks for her doors and windows. The cottage now bore the physical scars of Fenna’s paranoia.
Fenna struggled to focus on life’s daily demands. Every night she was met with security notifications in the early hours. The videos always showed nothing more what was already
familiar to her. The creaks and shuffles stalked her every movement and she began to hear whispers. The relentless struggle between lines of reality were blurring, she hadn’t slept in days.
One evening, as Fenna was anxiously balled up on the sofa, distracting herself with the mindless sound of television, a barely audible, out of place murmur danced on the edges of her consciousness. Her gaze departed from the television and to the kitchen sitting in darkness. The murmur got louder and louder as her eyes adjusted to the blackness. Suddenly, it was if someone was shouting directly into her ear. “LEAVE”. As soon as the noise rung around her head, she saw a shadow in the kitchen dart and a thunderous clattering. As if to mirror its movement, she leaped off of the sofa and slammed the kitchen door shut, dragging the nearby chest of drawers in front of the door, as if it was an impenetrable fortress. The shadows outside have come inside.
Time slowed to a crawl, and her breath caught in her throat. There was a quiet stillness, but the menacing silhouette was burned into her mind. She was paralysed by an overwhelming sense of dread. A frantic pounding on the door between the kitchen and living room shattered the eerie silence. The door reverberated. Fenna let out a piercingly sharp scream. Her eyes darted as she desperately scanned the room in a panic, trying to locate her phone which has fallen down the side of the sofa. The bangs continues, the rattling of the door handle became more frantic. She gets her phone and dials 999 with one hand and with the other reached for the fire poker. She clambered up onto the sofa and desperately pleaded with the person on the other end of the phone for immediate help. The noises got louder. A familiar voice laden with a spectacular rasp, as though it weathered centuries of existence screamed “LEAVE”. She dropped the fire poker.
“Did you hear that? They’re here. They’re in the house and they want to get to me.” Fenna screamed.
“We will have officers with you as soon as possible. But please calm down and stay on the line for me.”
Fenna sobbed as she clutched the phone to her ear. The noise was insufferable. Danger was imminent. “They are getting through, please help me,” the words punctuated by heart-wrenching sobs.
Her tear-filled eyes widened and re-focussed on the door. She could see it visibly shaking. The chest of drawers were being thrust forward. It was almost here. She stood up and dropped her phone. Her eyes were fixed to the door as her hands desperately felt for the fire poker. Got it. Standing square with the door, her knuckles turned white as she gripped the fire poker. She raised it up to her waist and pointed it toward her tormentor. Any second now they are going to burst through the door. A loud bang shattered the fragile illusion. She felt the shockwaves of the door exploding open. She charged forward with all her strength and determination towards the shadow. A sudden stop. Like hitting a brick wall. And unbeknownst to Fenna, the sharp end of the fire poker, forgotten in the midst of chaos. The room fell silent. She looked down and saw the fire poker piercing her abdomen. Blood flowed, staining the fabric of her clothes, puddling onto the floor beneath her feet. She stumbled back in disbelief, falling back onto the floor. As her eyes began to glaze over, she struggled to keep them open. She looked toward the kitchen. The door was closed. The chest stood undisturbed in front of it. There was no shadow. As the realisation dawned on her the flickering reflections of blue lights filled the ceiling above her. She closed her eyes and imagined her parents. A wave of peace submerged her, it felt like home.
