The Toby Jug (A short ghost story)

THE TOBY JUG

The Toby jug sat on my grandmother’s shelf next to the picture of my grandfather in his military uniform. He had been a sergeant major during the First World War and had fallen on the war torn pastures of the Somme. He had been awarded many medals throughout his service career; including the Military Medal which was awarded posthumously.

As far back as when I was toddling, my mother said that I would start screaming if upon entering my grandmother’s lounge my eyes fell upon the Toby jug. No entreaties or scolding would curtail my cries until the offending object was removed.

Later as I grew up I would feel the jug’s ubiquitous eyes follow me round the room. A cold shiver would run down my spine if I turned and caught these little black buttons watching me. I often tried to outstare them but the creature always won.

When I was studying Psychology at university the quotation from Friedrich Nietsche “If you stare into the Abyss long enough the Abyss stares back at you” reminded me of the Toby jug’s dark eyes.

My grandmother died while I was out in India on a backpacking holiday. I cried myself to sleep for the next week, but Mum had explained later, that it was better that I had been away. Gran had been in terrible agony towards the end and had required large doses of morphine to control the pain.

In my heart of hearts I knew that it had been the presence of that scheming Toby jug that had finished her at the end.

As soon as I returned to Britain I had gone across to the cemetery where Gran lay alone. Sadly, grandpa’s body had never been found. The heavy German guns had spread his mortal remains far and wide.

The birds sang and a light wind blew through the elms that grew round the area.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t with you at the end Gran,” I whispered to the broad granite headstone. “I hope you have met up with Gramps.”

Mum had rung me earlier regarding helping her to empty Gran’s house in preparation of us moving in. We had been leasing a property on the other side of town but Mum being an only child had been left Gran’s house in her will.

I arrived as the town clock chimed the hour. Mum was already inside so I opened the front door and walked in

“Hi Mum!” I shouted. “Where are you?”

A muffled cry came from the kitchen which was off the lounge.

“Through here, Jane. I’ve made a cup of coffee.”

As soon as I set foot in the lounge I felt its penetrating gaze fall on me and a shiver ran through me. I swear the temperature dropped several degrees.

It was the Toby jug, but instead of the shiny, smooth exterior that I expected to see, the surface of the jug was a crazy paving of cracks. But for its ruinous state the coal black eyes still glared and the little rosebud lips still sneered contemptuously.

“Mum?” I asked as I entered the kitchen. “What happened to the Toby jug? It’s covered with cracks.”

Mum’s face took on a worried look.

“Erm, it was an accident someone dropped it,” she replied. “But….. I did mange to glue it together again.”

“Why didn’t you just dump it?” I asked. “The thing gives me the creeps, it always has!”

Mum put a finger to her lips and closed the door that led to the lounge.

“Sshhhh Jane! It might hear you.” She looked scared and this worried me.

The furniture removal lorry arrived and the men began upstairs taking the bedroom items out. It surprised me how quickly the van was filled. Gran’s house was not big but she had possessed quite a few ‘bits and pieces’.

The van left to take their load down to the saleroom. The men had confirmed that they would return in an hour and hopefully empty the downstairs’ rooms. This gave Mum and me a chance to talk and she made another cup of coffee for us both.

“Okay Mum,” I began, sitting down at the table. “It’s time you came clean with me over that jug.”

Once again Mum went over and shut the partition door before she sat down.

“It’s a long story,” she said. “Before your grandmother married your grandfather she was being courted by a man called Dryman. They had a tempestuous time together, always arguing due to his jealousy, but the final outcome was, your Gran ended their courtship.”

“What happened then?” I asked, caught up in the story. “Was Dryman very angry?”

“He was so angry that he suffered a nervous breakdown and was committed to an asylum for the insane,” Mum said nervously. “About a year later Gran met Gramps and after a respectable period, they decided to marry.”

“What about Mr. Dryman?” I asked. “Did he ever get out of the asylum?”

“When Dryman heard of your grandmother’s engagement he went berserk, swearing and cursing. In fact he was so violent they had to strap him in a strait jacket and sedate him.” Mum took a sip of her coffee and gazed into space.

“Look you don’t need to go on if this is upsetting you…….” I started to say, but Mum cut me off with a shake of her head.

“You have to know the whole story,” she said. “For it affects you directly.”

She lifted her cup and drank the last of her coffee. I could see from her demeanour that she had made her mind up about something.

“On their wedding day Gran and Gramps received a present from Dryman,” Mum started. “How or where he had got it from is a mystery as he was confined to his room due to his violent outbursts, but the gift arrived and what a gift it turned out to be! It was a Toby jug; yes Jane, the one in the lounge. Well Gramps was annoyed at Dryman sending such an ugly gift. Its expression was one of contempt and no one felt comfortable in its presence.”

“But why didn’t they just get rid of it?” I asked in an exasperated tone.

“Your grandfather did. He wrapped the thing in newspaper and stuck it in the attic in an old chest.” Mum replied. “But that was when things started to happen.”

The front door bell rang and Mum got up to answer it. It was one of the removal men

announcing their return for another load. Mum let them in and leaving the front door open, came back through to the kitchen. “It makes me really sad to see all your Gran’s stuff going away. It seems to make her death real to me,” she said sitting down again.

“So Mum, what strange things started to happen?” I asked. I knew that all had not been well in Gran’s house.

“Mostly loud noises, groaning, bangs and loud creaking. The local paper did a story on it calling it Britain’s most haunted house!” Mum laughed humourlessly.

“The final straw came when loud footsteps were heard up in the attic late at night and during the early morning. Granpa couldn’t sleep and in desperation, thinking it may be Dryman’s gift that was responsible, he brought the Toby jug downstairs and placed it on the bureau. Peace ensued and the house fell silent. Gran and Granpa thought that it was over.”

“So what happened then?” I asked breathlessly. “Did the noises start all over again?”

“Well no……” she started. “ An atmosphere developed around the jug which made everyone who came into the house feel very uncomfortable. You must remember screaming your head off every time we visited Gran’s?”

I nodded my head. “Yes, but it was the Toby jug that frightened me!”

“Grampa decided to join the Army, but he was worried leaving Gran in the house on her own. One day he came home with a dog to keep her company. Well from day one the dog, they called him Caesar, was never at ease. He paced around and would growl softly at the Toby jug. You could tell he hated it.

Grampa left a week later and began his training. He managed to come home every month and he and Gran would take Caesar for long walks which he loved, it was only when they got back home that he started to be ill at ease. Once in the house he began his pacing and growling.

After a couple of years Grandpa rose to the dizzy heights of sergeant major and was allowed more time at home. The First World War had started and the troops were being shipped over to France. One weekend Grandpa came home for a few days before he shipped out to the trenches. He and Gran had just returned home from a long walk with Caesar when they spotted movement inside their lounge. Grandpa opened the front door and ordered Caesar in first. The dog raced into the lounge growling, but suddenly there was a flash of light and Caesar began shrieking. By the time we got into the room the poor dog was lying in a pool of blood that was pouring out of a ghastly wound in his side. As Gran sat with Caesar, he died.

We searched the room from top to bottom but found nothing that could account for the flash of light or that could have caused the injuries sustained by Caesar.”

“Oh God Mum, that’s terrible,” I said shaking my head. “Poor Gran, what a thing to happen to her.”

“Yes it was and Grandpa blamed everything on the Toby jug. He said it had to go and had Gran not stopped him he would have smashed the blasted thing.

“Granpa went back to the trenches a week later and was killed while attacking a machine gun post,” Mum said with tears in her eyes.

“And she has been living with this constant reminder since,” I said angrily. “If you remove it you are plagued with noises, if you live with it its presence poisons the air and if you destroy it, it could……..”

There was a discrete knock at the kitchen door. It opened to reveal the removal men. They had emptied the upstairs rooms and had begun to bring in our bedroom furniture.

“We’ll start in the lounge when we come back. Can we take everything?” asked one of the men.

Mum went through and carefully lifted the Toby jug and Grandpa’s photograph off the bureau.

“Yes,” she said. “Everything else can go.”

Mum laid the jug and the photograph side by side on the kitchen table. I could feel cold air emanating from the jug. Its evil smile chilled me.

“It really is an ugly thing isn’t it?” I said, without thinking.

“Sshhhhhh!” Mum hushed me. “You don’t know how powerful it is!”

Later we stood in the garden and had a cup of tea. The sun was setting and the clouds were turning gold.

“Mum?” I asked. “Did Gran try and destroy the jug?”

Mum turned to me, her face was white and I could see she was scared.

“What gave you that idea?”

“Well someone has glued it together,” I said. “Did it fall?”

Mum looked towards the kitchen window and when she turned back to me there were tears running down her cheeks.

“Gran had been getting steadily weaker last year and I know she blamed Dryman’s gift,” she began. “One day I found she had crawled from her bed, down the stairs and into the lounge. She then had grabbed the jug and then thrown it into the fireplace. After I had helped her back to bed I asked her why she had done it and she said she wanted the evil to stop with her, even if it lead to her death.”

“But why did you repair it?” I asked incredulously. “Gran was willing to make the sacrifice, why didn’t you let her?”

Mum turned and looked me in the eyes and asked, “Would you let me die?”

That night I lay in bed listening to the wind howl round the house. The little jug had us checkmated; we could do nothing to alleviate the position. It was a ridiculous situation but one which we were powerless to do anything about.

Two weeks later Mum came home from work early. She had felt sick and dizzy. I put her to bed and made her a hot drink, but by the time I gave her the drink she was unconscious and I had to call for an ambulance.

The paramedics took her right to hospital and she was placed in the Intensive Care Unit. She was by this time in a coma and the doctors were baffled. The symptoms did not match anything that they had seen before.

I sat at her bedside holding her hand as the machine that were keeping her alive bleeped and tapped.

“Oh Mum,” I whispered. “Please get better. Don’t leave me alone.”

I arrived home at midnight. A night wind blew amongst the trees and swept bits of paper down the road. The house was in darkness as I stepped up to the front door and unlocked it. The door squeaked open and I closed it after me with a bang.

I switched the hall light on and its rays illuminated part of the lounge. The Toby jug sat watching me looking very pleased with itself.

“You bastard!” I shouted pointing at the jug. “You made Mum ill, didn’t you?” I paused as if I expected an answer. The Toby jug just continued to smile. Pure evil and untouchable.

I went over and picked it up. I felt it squirming in my grasp, but I was sure it was my imagination.

I placed the jug next to my bed and after switching the light off, undressed and got into bed.

I lay and wondered if this curse would ever be ended. Once Mum and I had been killed off would it move onto cousins, nephews, nieces……..? I lifted the jug off the top of my bedside table and held it front of my face. I could not see it in the darkness but I could feel the waves of hate emanating from it.

The telephone rang. I put the jug carefully back by the bed and switching the light back on lifted the telephone receiver.

“Hello, this is the ICU. I am afraid your mother has developed complications,” the voice on the other end of the line said. “The doctors have advised that you come right away.”

I put the phone down slowly. Mum was going to die and all because of a stupid looking Toby jug. I picked it up once again and decided that I would destroy it. Mum was probably going to die followed I suppose by myself, but the curse would go no further. This was the end, the full stop, no more.

The wall at the end of my bedroom was bare of any pictures and I decided that it would be the anvil that I would destroy this little monstrosity on. So raising my arm I aimed at the wall and let the evil little jug fly. It sailed through the air and its destruction seemed imminent when, the end wall vanished and was replaced by a scene that I can only describe was hell. The sky glowed a lurid red and flames were visible on the horizon. I could hear shells flying through the air and explosions when they fell. The ground was strewn with bodies and jagged rubble stood about them. This was a battle field, but where? I wondered.

Suddenly a tall figure appeared silhouetted against the burning landscape. He was dressed as a soldier and as his face was lit up with an explosion, I knew who he was.

“Grandpa!” I shouted half in surprise and half in shock at seeing someone I knew to be dead.

My grandfather waved and held up the fateful Toby jug in his other hand.

“This is where it stops,” he said and turning marched into the tumult and fighting.

As he vanished into the fray I heard a shell shriek through the air and knew in my heart of hearts that it ‘had his name on it’. As in confirmation the ground suddenly lifted and fragmented as the shell exploded.

I must have fainted for I came to about half an hour later facing – a plain white wall.

I wondered if I had dreamt the whole thing, but after telephoning the hospital was told the wonderful news that Mum was conscious and eating some soup. She had recovered.

After the Toby jug was removed from our family everything settled down and Mum and I became an average family with equal good and bad fortune.

I married and made Mum a grandmother with a grandson and granddaughter who in turn married and made us very happy grandparents.

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