Creep Street (4 page)

ook,' you say, ‘I don't know what you're on about, but this seems a pretty cool house to me. Anyway, where do you live?'

‘I'll show you,' she says. She leads you to the front, into the street, and points away to your left. ‘There,' she says.

‘Oh,' you say. ‘There, huh?'

You're looking at a church. It's the only other old building on the street.

‘So is your father the minister?' you ask.

She laughs. ‘No,' she says. ‘My mother.'

‘Oh,' you say, feeling a little silly.

‘Do you want to come and look?'

‘OK.'

You walk down there. The church is a big solid stone building with dark leadlight windows, and trees growing all around it. There's a graveyard on the left hand side.

Stacey pushes open a side door made of heavy timber with black hinges. It squeaks and creaks and groans. She goes inside and you follow. It's very quiet and gloomy in there. There's a lot of dust around. You get the feeling that no-one comes here too often. You look round curiously.

Just at that moment there's a huge blast of sound. The air is hit by the shock wave of sound. It almost lifts you off the ground. Your hair tries to pull itself out of your scalp by the roots. You grab Stacey.

‘W . . . w . . . w . . . w . . . w . . . w . . . w . . . w . . . w . . . w . . . w . . .'

‘I didn't know you had a stammer,' Stacey says.

‘I didn't either,' you say.

You start to realise that Stacey's not too stressed and you feel a little embarrassed at the way you've been clutching her. You step away.

‘What is it?' you ask.

‘It's the organ,' she says.

‘Oh,' you say.

The music is now in full force, filling the church. It's loud!

‘What's the tune?' you ask.

‘“The Death March”,' she says.

‘Who's playing it?' you ask.

‘I am,' she says.

Uh? What is this girl on about? You look at her in disbelief.

‘Are you off your head?' you ask politely.

She gives a little smile. A strange secretive sinister little smile.

‘I am playing it, you know,' she says, stepping slightly closer to you.

In the dim light of the church you see two tiny red spots in her eyes, like reflectors on a bike. You don't want to look away from her but you would love to check where the door is. Not that you're worried exactly, but just to be on the safe side . . .

‘How can you be playing it?' you ask Stacey.

‘I have the power,' she whispers.

‘Um, you mean you've got a remote control?' you ask.

She shakes her head slowly, still with that little smile playing around her lips.

Suddenly Stacey snaps her fingers and the music stops. The shock is just as great as the shock you got when it started. Stacey's hands are reaching out towards you. You stare at them, almost hypnotised. Her hands are moving very slowly, like a pair of dancing snakes. Not that you've ever seen a pair of dancing snakes. Desperately you try to think. What can you do? This is weird. There's a wooden cross right behind you. Should you grab it and threaten her? Or should you just run?

've already said hello to Stacey,' you mumble. ‘Is there anything to eat?'

Your mother rolls her eyes, like you've been bad-mannered again. You can't figure out why, but you've spotted some interesting-looking food and you head towards it. Chocolate eclairs, yum. ‘Just one, dear,' your mother says. ‘Mrs Cunningham brought them. Isn't that nice? Offer them to Stacey and her mother.'

‘Here, you wanna cake?' you ask, nicking one for yourself, then pushing the plate in Stacey's direction and grabbing a lamington at the same time. Stacey doesn't have an eclair and neither does her mother, but your mum helps herself to one. You hesitate between your eclair and your lamington but you decide to go for the eclair. You bite into it. It tastes sweet but a bit funny. Kind of . . . like chalk dust has been mixed into it. Not a strong taste, so you ignore it and have another mouthful. But then suddenly you get a strange feeling. It's like you've been turned to stone. You feel numb all over and you can't move. You're standing there like a statue, like a shop dummy, like the canteen lady at school when you want to buy a Drumstick. You try to speak but your mouth is paralysed. You can see your mother and she's the same: frozen. She's still got half the chocolate eclair in her mouth and her hand is at her mouth holding it. This is frighteningly weird: the weirdest thing that's ever happened to you. You can at least move your eyes and you turn them to Mrs Cunningham. For the first time you notice how shiny her eyes are, how sharp her teeth. As you look at her a little dribble of spit runs down her chin. She smiles at her daughter. ‘I think they're ready for our purposes,' she says.

Stacey gives a cackle.

‘Yes,' she says, ‘I'll get the . . .'

You don't quite hear the next word. Was it coffins? Oh surely not. It must have been coffee. They're obviously about to offer you a cup of coffee to make up for the mistake with the chocolate eclairs.

Stacey leaves, but a minute later you hear a car engine start. And then she returns. She's driving a long grey station wagon. It looks suspiciously like a hearse. She gets out and opens the back. It is a hearse. In the rear are two coffins. Stacey and her mother come and lift your mum and take her over and put her in one of them. Then they come back for you. You're totally helpless as they lift you and carry you to the box. They lie you in it and close the lid! It's horrifying. It's completely black in there: the blackest place you've ever been. You can't even scream. This is a nightmare. No, worse than a nightmare. Nightmares are only dreams. This is true.

You get driven for hours. At first the road is smooth, but the further you go the rougher it gets. At last, though, the car stops. You hear footsteps, then the back of the car opening, then the lid of the coffin gets opened. You blink hard in the bright light. Then you realise that you can actually blink! Maybe you're getting some movement back at last! Stacey's mother is standing there. ‘Get out,' she says. To your surprise you find you can move, even though you're sore and stiff. Soon you're standing behind the car, with your mother beside you. You think: ‘This is our chance! Maybe we should make a break for it.'

ou try to get the door shut but you're a split second too late. The great monster rips the door off its hinges and, with a roar of rage, comes storming into the cellar after you. You rush around frantically from wall to wall trying to escape his hot breath. It's like a pinball game where you're the ball and you go bouncing off the obstacles. You don't get points here though; the only prize is getting to stay alive.

Then the end seems to have come. You're trapped against the back wall and the bear-thing is coming straight at you. His mouth is open and he's ready to bite. You feel his breath. It's like a small cyclone. To make things worse he's been eating a lot of garlic, mixed with cheese and sardines. This is one of the least favourite moments of your life. But suddenly your hand, groping behind you, feels something big and round. You grab it, pull it out and without even looking to see what it is, you throw it straight into his cavernous mouth. Turns out it's a basketball. The creature hesitates. You watch with interest as he gulps it down in one huge swallow. Then he lets loose with a burp that scorches the wall black. While he's doing that, you duck between his legs and race to the other side of the cellar. You grab an old gum boot and when he wheels around and comes at you again you heave that down his gullet as well. He swallows it with hardly a pause, and you follow it up with a cushion, a 1963 telephone directory, and a dartboard. In the next few minutes, as you race around the cellar with him lumbering after you, you feed him a can of paint, the other gum boot, a few pieces of firewood, and a book called
So Much to Tell You
. The book's the only thing he seems to have trouble digesting. Everything else goes down without a pause. You're getting desperate when your eye suddenly lights on a small can in one corner. It's labelled 2-
STROKE FUEL
, and it gives you an idea. You grab it as you race past and you screw its lid off. The next time the creature has you cornered and is roaring straight at you, you chuck the whole can down his throat. Then you grab a box of matches, light one, and throw it down, too.

The explosion is a beauty. You know those gadgets they advertise on TV that shred, chop, mince and puree? Well, forget about them. The explosion shreds, chops, minces and purees the hairy beast better than any gadget. It's such a blast that it has the side effect of blowing you out of the cellar, straight up the stairs and halfway down the corridor towards the front of the house. Your mother's coming down the corridor towards you.

‘Oh dear,' she says, ‘I wish you wouldn't play in the cellar. Go outside for those sorts of games.'

And she walks on down the corridor as you lie there feeling your cuts and bruises. You're covered in bits of the monster's flesh and hair.

‘Hmm,' you think. ‘I'll never understand adults.'