At midnight it seeps. From the cabinets, the broom closet, the washer and dryer, mud flows. Like lava from an active volcano, it pumps from every crack and crevice in our small utility room— drips from the overhead light socket. It’s odorless. Not as gritty as you’d expect. It never overflows the utility room to invade the adjoining kitchen.
Each morning we wake and I go down to assess the new spillage. Lizzie and Eric slurp their juice and crunch mouthfuls of cereal, then they ready themselves for school, slinging on their book-bags and jackets.
“Mom, more mud.” They giggle. Neither offers me a sympathetic hug.
Matthew fetches the morning paper from the stoop. He peruses the headlines and stock market projections while he nibbles on a jelly-laden bagel and sips his coffee.
He sees the mud. “Goddamn plumbing. Thirty-five thousand for a house and you’d think we’d have a decent sewer system. You call a plumber yet?”
“Not yet,” I say.
How can he not see the mud dripping from the utility room cabinets? Or see that it has spewed down the sides of the washer, coating it mocha brown?
The paper gets folded and left on the kitchen table after Matt checks his wristwatch. He gives me a quick kiss on the cheek and squeezes my tush. I watch him stride down the hallway; hear him snatch up his car keys and briefcase.
I hear the front door open, close.
I’m left alone with the mud again. I’m left to clean it.
I pour myself more coffee and click on the kitchen’s mini TV.
***
After the Today show I set to work. I shovel the bulk of the mud into a 50-gallon rubber garbage can. I mop and scrub up the rest. It takes me hours to get the utility room clean again.
By noon, the mud in the garbage can vanishes. I wonder where it goes. I wonder why only the mud in the can vanishes and why the rest, if left alone, doesn’t?
***
After dinner, once I have tucked the kids into bed and I’ve read them a story, before kissing them on the head and wishing them a goodnight, I creep back downstairs. I hear the TV on in our bedroom.
I pour myself a glass of wine and stand in the kitchen, staring into the shadows of our utility room as I sip.
At ten to midnight, I set the egg-timer. I position the empty garbage can beneath the cabinets of the utility room. Then I wiggle out of my blue jeans and sweater; slide my hands along the silky-smooth Spandex of my favorite floral swimsuit.
I close the utility room door.
Smiling, determined, I climb into the garbage can. I wait in the darkness, listening. When the ding sounds, I feel the mud flow over me. It’s warm and wet, delightfully thick.
When it slows to a trickle and then a drip, I tie the utility door closed with a bungee cord, attaching the hook of the free end to the side handle of my garbage can.
Savoring my mud bath and the quiet darkness, I wait for noon.
Kay Patterson lives in the outskirts of Pittsburgh. She is the creator and senior editor of AlienSkin Magazine. Her tales have appeared in numerous print and online magazines, with her most work appearing or upcoming in Murky Depths, From the Asylum, Apex Digest; and in the anthologies, Read By Dawn with Ramsey Campbell, Black Box, and FlashSpec II.
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17 Responses to “THE MUD ROOM • by K. A. Patterson”
Comments
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September 6th, 2007 at 4:20 am
This story made me imagine what she would encounter at noon - kind of story that continues in your head after you’ve done reading it. Enjoyed it!
September 6th, 2007 at 4:37 am
Sorry, did nothing for me.
Maybe I missed something, but after reading it twice I have no idea of theme, there is no conflict, the characters are bland and I didnt care about the mystery of the reappearing mud.
In my opinion, a disappointing anticlimax.
September 6th, 2007 at 4:58 am
Fun story! You can read and re-read it trying to figure out what is going on, never sure you fully understand it but having fun with it nonetheless. More please!
September 6th, 2007 at 5:16 am
This has been my favourite story so far, with the first beef story a close second. My take is that this is the portrayal of a bored housewife coming apart at the mental seams.
September 6th, 2007 at 8:32 am
Sorry the piece didn’t appeal to you Jude. But the beauty of EDF is that you only have to wait a day to get something new!
September 6th, 2007 at 8:36 am
We selected this story because when we read it, we both imagined what would come next, and any story that keeps you thinking after the end is a wonderful read.
Great job, K.A. Patterson!
September 6th, 2007 at 8:45 am
Glad most of you enjoyed my take on those moments in life when we feel under-appreciated and wish to rebel, preferring to be off on an adventure instead of being trapped in mundane routine.
September 6th, 2007 at 12:00 pm
I thought it was great. Maybe the characters were bland, but it seems intentional to emphasize the trivial aspects of the main characters life. Typical husband, typical kids, typical life. All they know is that the mud is gone when the get home from work/school. Who knows what else will be gone next time.
September 6th, 2007 at 12:09 pm
This story gives a whole new meaning to escapism. I particularly enjoyed the sensory description: the feel of the bathing suit, the texture and consistency of the mud.
September 6th, 2007 at 4:44 pm
Wonderful. I thought even though the characters were plain, the rest of the story made up for it.
September 6th, 2007 at 5:45 pm
I enjoyed this. I think the less developed characters work here, because it helps the narrator’s actions carry the story more.
September 7th, 2007 at 5:41 am
I keep thinking of this particular woman, and lots of other women, unappreciated and taken for granted. At times I also think about wanting to just leave everything behind and take a chance for something new.
September 7th, 2007 at 8:05 am
I think the metaphor in this story is a little too much at times, and it gets lost within the exposition. The descriptions are wonderful, though, and make up for the heavy-handedness of the prose.
September 7th, 2007 at 7:06 pm
The door to the utility room creaks open a sliver, stretching the bungee cord. Someone’s trying to get in! The can teeters, just about to topple, when I hear a voice–”Nice story, Kay!”
September 8th, 2007 at 9:39 am
“Calgon, take me away!” lol What a mud bath won’t do for a tired and trivialized life. Good storytelling. I caught the theme early, but enjoyed the ride. Lyn from ResAliens
September 10th, 2007 at 7:50 pm
ohh, i laughed and laughed. this was fantastic and definitely appreciated. thanks for providing me an escape :).
September 15th, 2007 at 11:29 am
I liked this one a lot! It resonated with me, and made me think. It’s one of those stories that stay with you.
Good work, Kay!