by Tom Fletcher
A large pink milkshake river flowed around a silver castle in the center of it all. Lucy rubbed her eyes and saw that the castle was in fact made of hundreds and thousands of sparkling silver garbage cans, stacked high on top of one another.
“Wow!” Lucy said out loud. This place really was strangely amazing. She couldn’t help but want to dive into the milkshake river and go for a swim with her mouth wide open.
Two women skipped by, holding hands, eating enor-mous lollipops, and giggling like little kids as they played in the falling popcorn, trying to catch it on their tongues.
“Excuse me!” Lucy called to them, but the women turned and blew raspberries at her, then ran away laughing. As Lucy watched them go, a crowd of men burst out of a toy shop, kicking a brand-new football.
“On yer head!” one of them called, and toe-punted the ball so hard it smashed through the shop window, showering the street with glass. The men fell about laughing.
“Nice one, Simon!” another man said. “Let’s drink some cream soda and go on the rides until we puke again!”
Lucy, who didn’t usually consider puking very funny, found that a little giggle was making its way out of her mouth.
“Oh!” she said, taking herself by surprise.
Just then, a great blast of trumpets broke out from the far end of Main Street, Creakerland. “Oooh, it’s a parade!” cried an elderly man next to Lucy, beaming and turning a cartwheel as a row of giant floats began cruising their way down the street.
Crowds of all the grown-ups of Whiffington suddenly emerged from the Main Street shops and attractions—the video-game arcade, the ice-cream spa, the comic-book library, the hot-fudge hot tub, and the petting zoo—filling the street to watch. Wrinkly Mr. Ratcliffe was there in his underpants. Molly the milk woman was handing out Woleb milkshakes, and even Mario was jogging backward along Main Street.
Then Lucy spotted Mrs. Fudge McScroodles, who owned Scrummy McScroodles Sweets ’n’ Stuff; Old Man Carvey, who ran the butcher shop; Paige Turner, the librarian; and even Piers Snoregan from Wakey-Wakey, Whiffington. They were all here in Creakerland—having fun in their pajamas!
The grown-ups whooped and cheered as the parade came past, as though they were having the time of their lives. It was fun—but Lucy couldn’t help but feel that this was all wrong. These childlike people around her were the grown-ups who should be up in Whiffington with their children and families. Not down here.
Lucy turned away, her mind racing. A woman with curly white hair skipped past her, holding a large ice cream. The chocolate was melting in her hands, making them sticky and messy. The woman tossed the melting ice cream on the ground, and it landed with a splodge right at Lucy’s feet.
“Excuse me, aren’t you going to clean that up?” Lucy asked.
The woman’s expression changed from a sort of hypnotic excitement to utter hysterics.
“Clean it up?! Pah-ha-ha!” she called. “Good one! I’m off to get a fresh ice cream. Want one?”
As much as Lucy would have loved an ice cream, she knew that there was some sort of Woleb magic at work here, and magical ice cream was not to be trusted. “No thanks,” she replied, and watched the old woman run full speed down Main Street to the ice-cream vending machine, faster than a kid running downstairs on Christmas morning.
As the woman disappeared, another grown-up came into view. Lucy stared at the distant figure. Then, as she realized what she was seeing, she clapped her hands over her eyes and peered through her fingers. It was an awful sight, which she was afraid she could never un-see. It was Ella’s father, the mayor of Whiffington—and he wasn’t wearing any clothes. At. All.
Lucy groaned as Mayor Noying, who was usually very serious indeed, ran down Main Street—completely naked. He was covering up his funny bits with a ridiculous Creakerland mayor’s hat, screaming, “I’m mayor of Creakerland, and I declare this the BEST PLACE EV-ER!” at the top of his lungs.
Lucy quickly shut her eyes tightly as his bare bottom whizzed past her and disappeared down Main Street.
“I couldn’t agree more!” said Piers Snoregan as his film crew captured the mayor’s naked moment. “That’s about all from me, Piers Snoregan. See you tomorrow for another Wakey-Wakey, Woleb.” He winked smugly at the camera before the broadcast ended, and the film crew high-fived each other.
“I’m never telling Ella about this,” Lucy muttered to herself.
She stared at the chaos around her. What the jiggins is going on? she wondered. Why are all the grown-ups acting so…so…
And just like that, she understood why the grown-ups weren’t acting like grown-ups anymore. It was all so blindingly obvious that Lucy slicked her hair over and slapped herself on the forehead for not realizing it sooner.
Of course! she thought. This is the twisted work of the Woleb again!
Everything in this place was different. It was backward. And the grown-ups were no exception.
Because the grown-ups weren’t grown-ups down here. They were naughty and silly and fun—like children.
And most important of all, they were messy!
Lucy looked around at all the litter on the ground. There were candy wrappers, greasy french fry bags, lollipop sticks, bottles, and cans. There were scattered jelly beans and drips of chocolate. There were bits of broken glass and piles of discarded popcorn. There was litter EVERYWHERE!
Just what the Creakers wanted, Lucy realized.
The grown-ups had been snatched away into the Woleb and had forgotten about their lives. This place had erased their responsibilities. It had made them forget all the stresses and worries of the real world and remember instead what it was like to be children: to simply have fun. A life without consequence.
It was only then that Lucy realized the true meaning of the word she hated. Impossible. How was she ever going to fix this mess?
“Impossible is just in your mind. Impossible is just in your mind,” Lucy repeated to herself.
At that moment, she heard a laugh she recognized, and spun around. She looked down the glistening green-paved street and saw a giddy girl tumble out of the exit of the Tilt-A-Whirl, fall to the shiny floor, and begin rolling around in a fit of giddy giggles.
“Let’s do it again!” she said, laughing.
Lucy stared.
It was her mom.
“This is a disaster! We’re all doomed!” Ella whined, flopping onto Lucy’s pillow dramatically.
Norman paced around the room behind her, his feet squeaking on the creaky floorboards in rhythm.
“Not necessarily,” he said.
“Oh please, Norman. It’s useless. Mama and Papa are gone. Lucy’s gone. There are monsters under our beds, and…yep, there are only white marshmallows left.” Ella inspected the half-empty bag. “This is the worst day of my life. I officially quit.”
“Lucy wouldn’t quit on us,” insisted Norman. “She didn’t give up on the grown-ups.”
Ella sighed. “OK, Mr. Scouty-Pants with all the badges. What do we do, then?”
Norman closed his eyes and thought as hard as he could. “What would Lucy do?”
They both sat there in Lucy’s bedroom, wondering what Lucy would do if she woke up and found out that she was missing. What would Lucy Dungston do if—
“Wait a second,” Ella said, interrupting the narrator. “We already know what Lucy would do.”
“We do?”
“Yuh-huh! She already did it…when the grown-ups first disappeared!”
Norman scratched his neatly combed head, trying to remember.
“She put on her school uniform?” he guessed.
“No! Don’t you remember what she said? How did my mom find out what was going on in the world?” Ella said in her best Lucy voice.
Norman’s eyes lit up. “The news!”
“Right! You know what? We just worked al
l that out together. We’re a team now, Norm. We’ve got to stick together,” Ella said.
“Yeah! Like two Transformers coming together to build an even bigger, even better one!” Norman agreed excitedly, linking his fingers together to demonstrate. “Norman and Ella. Together, we are…NormEllaTron!” he boomed.
This time it was Ella who scratched her head.
Slowly.
“Too much?” asked Norman nervously.
“Too much, Norm. Let’s just go and switch the TV on,” she said.
“OK.”
They both ran downstairs, Norman switched on the TV—and together they began searching for news on Lucy.
“Mom!” Lucy called out across Main Street, Creakerland. But her call was completely ignored—not just by her mom but by every misbehaving grown-up around.
She ran straight over to her mom and helped her to her feet. She stared at her. Her mom’s usually neat brown curls were frizzed and tangled, and her pajamas were crumpled and splodged with what looked like strawberry ice cream.
“That was SO much fun. You’ve got to try it! Let’s go!” Mrs. Dungston cried, tugging on Lucy’s arm as she tried to ride the vomit-inducing Tilt-A-Whirl again.
“Erm, I think you’ve had enough of that for one day,” Lucy said.
“Yes, Mommy!” said Lucy’s mom, mocking Lucy for being so bossy.
“Don’t call me that.”
“Don’t call me that!” Mrs. Dungston repeated.
“Stop it!”
“Stop it!”
“It’s not funny.”
“It’s not funny!”
“Why are you being so annoying?”
“Why are you being so annoying?!”
“I’m not annoying—you are!”
“I’m not annoying—you are!”
Lucy folded her arms and let out a frustrated sigh. Her mom was acting like a spoiled child. “OK, I’m a big snot muffin!” Lucy said.
Mrs. Dungston burst into uncontrollable giggles, pointing and laughing.
“You’re a big snot muffin, you’re a big snot muffin!” she sang merrily.
Lucy looked with worry at this grown woman in front of her, this lady who looked like her mom.
“What has this place done to you?” she whispered.
“Oh, lighten up, grumpy pants! It’s just a bit of fun,” Mrs. Dungston said, poking Lucy in the ribs.
But this wasn’t fun, not for Lucy, not one bit. In fact, it was as far from fun as possible. Can you imagine your mom or dad pointing at you and saying, “You’re a big snot muffin”? It might even make you want to cry.
Which is exactly what Lucy did.
Big-snot-muffin tears welled up in her big-snot-muffin eyes and plopped out in massive drops down her cheeks. She sobbed so hard she couldn’t even see. Everything was too much. Too out of control. Too overwhelmingly stressful. All these responsibilities had fallen on Lucy’s shoulders so suddenly she didn’t even know where to begin. Saving the grown-ups, looking after the Whiffington kids, confiscating dangerous items, trying to keep the place tidy. Was this what being a grown-up felt like?
Maybe the Woleb is changing me too, Lucy thought suddenly. If this place is making the grown-ups more childlike, then isn’t it possible that it’s making me more grown up?
She shook her head angrily. “If this is what being a grown-up feels like, then no thank you very much!” she cried. “Being a grown-up is terrible!”
Just then she felt a hand on her face: a kind, warm hand, wiping away the big-snot-muffin tears. Once the tears cleared, Lucy’s heart seemed to melt a little at what she saw. Her mom was staring right at her, a look of astonishment on her face.
“Mom?” Lucy said.
“My little Lucypops!” said Mrs. Dungston, sounding like the woman Lucy knew.
“What happened?!” Lucy asked, wondering why her mom had suddenly woken from the strange Woleb magic.
“I…I can’t really explain it!” Mrs. Dungston said, scratching her head. “One minute I was feeling all excited about riding these roller coasters, and then I heard something—something that made everything else seem unimportant.”
“What was it?”
“You!” Mrs. Dungston said.
“But I was calling you and trying to speak to you, Mom!”
“Really? I don’t remember that! I just remember hearing you crying. It’s a sound that’s always made me so unhappy, ever since you were tiny,” Mrs. Dungston said, pulling Lucy in for an enormous, squishy cuddle. “Lucy…”
“Yes, Mom?”
“Where on earth are we?”
Mrs. Dungston gazed around at the mayhem surrounding them. Grown-ups were sprinting about carelessly, screaming at the tops of their voices and generally being as un-grown-up-like as they could be.
“Actually, Mom, we’re not anywhere on earth. We’re below it!” Lucy said, and quickly tried to explain all that she had learned about the Woleb and the Creakers who lived there. “That’s why I’m here,” she finished. “I’ve come to take everyone back home. If you think this place is bad, wait until you see what the kids have done to Whiffington!”
“Oh no! What’s happened?” Mrs. Dungston asked.
Lucy took a deep breath.
“Well, there are three sharks in the Whiffington pool, thanks to Jackson Gilly; Billy Noshling’s been stuck in a vending machine for two days; Ella and Norman have been knocked out by Dozy Dust; and, as a whole, Whiffington is pretty much a hazard to the health of anyone who sets foot in it,” Lucy explained.
“What about my son?” said a worried voice from behind her. “James Crackney?”
Lucy whirled around and came face to face with an anxious-looking man in polka-dot pajamas, who appeared to have bits of cotton candy stuck in his beard. She couldn’t believe it. Had another grown-up snapped out of the Creakers’ spell too?
“And my daughter Suzanne? I think she’s in your class…,” said a woman in a stripy nightie, stepping toward Lucy.
Lucy looked around and realized that a handful of grown-ups had started listening to her. As she described the awful mess Whiffington was in, more and more faces began to turn her way, their eyes lighting up with interest and recognition as they woke up from the twisted Woleb magic.
“Fetch me my clothes at once,” ordered Mayor Noying. “We must get back up there!”
“Fetch your own clothes,” snapped Mrs. Noying, the mayor’s wife, stepping out of the crowd.
“Oh yes, of course, my dear,” the mayor bumbled.
Lucy smiled. The Woleb’s powers were fading. The grown-ups were growing up! Not only that, Creakerland was fading too. As Lucy watched, all the roller coasters and wonderfully delicious smells transformed into what they really were, as if a strange mist was lifting. Suddenly she was surrounded by hideous piles of junk and garbage pumping rotten smells into the thick, pungent air.
A second later the ground started to wobble. Lucy had felt this wobble before, when the spider on the map moved its crooked legs.
“The Woleb is moving!” Lucy cried. And she was right! A huge tunnel twisted open in the gnarled walls next to where Lucy and the grown-ups of Whiffington had gathered, and Lucy glimpsed a row of small gleaming eyes looking at her from the darkness.
“What’s going on?!” Mrs. Dungston cried.
“It’s them!” Lucy said, pointing at the eyes.
“Who?”
“The things that snatched you and brought you down here,” Lucy said. “It’s the Creakers!”
How are you getting on? Sorry I’ve not spoken to you for a while—I’ve been busy writing this story, and I guessed you’d be busy reading it. It’s all getting a bit topsy-turvy, isn’t it? All this upside-down, backward stuff! In fact, if you turn this book upside down and read this page backward, it tells a nice story about fluffy kittens.
…Only joking. Just wanted to see if you’d turn the book upside down.
Grunt, Guff, Scratch, and Sniff leapt out of the hole, followed by ten—no, twenty…wait, fifty…OK, hundreds! Hundreds of slimy Creakers erupted into Main Street, Creakerland, grimacing at the grown-ups as they circled them intimidatingly.
“So, the trick’s up, innit?” Grunt hissed.
“The humans be seein’ the Woleb for whats the Woleb really is,” Guff said, flicking his chubby, pointy tail.
The grown-ups backed away, terrified of these hideous monsters, for it was the first time they had seen the Creakers.
“Let us go!” demanded Mayor Noying.
The Creakers burst into what Lucy recognized as Creaker laughter. That very moment, enormous rotten roots burst out of the soggy ground around Lucy and the grown-ups and shot up into the air, where they twined tightly together. They formed a giant cage around the grown-ups, with Lucy hiding somewhere in the middle of the crowd.
We’re trapped, she thought.
“Now, where’s the kidderling?” Grunt hissed, and Lucy’s heart sank as she realized that he was no longer wearing her dad’s old coat.
He must have delivered it to the Creaker King, she thought.
“Stay out of sight, Lucypops,” whispered Mrs. Dungston to Lucy, pulling her close. But as soon as the words left her mom’s lips, Lucy felt the muddy roots beneath her feet start to rise. They lifted her up into the air, above the grown-ups around her, trying to reveal where she was hiding.
“No, Lucy!” a few of the grown-ups whispered as they fought to hold her down, to keep her hidden.
“Wait!” Lucy said, her mind racing like an engine. “I know what to do. This is the Woleb’s power—it’s backward!” She took a deep breath and yelled at the top of her voice, “I’m right here, look! Easy to see, clear as crystal!”
