by Melody Grace
I rushed to her and froze in fear of what I saw-- A gigantic winged creature with black feathers that seemed to be doing something with my friend's head. It quickly turned his own head in my direction and snarled at the sight of me. The gigantic, bird-like creature then swiftly pinned me to the ground, its sharp claw wounding my arms in the process. I tried to scream but my attempt got stifled at the sight of the monster up-close-and-personal. It had a skull as its head and saliva was dripping from its revolting mouth. The enormous bird began sniffing my head and jerked back as if it was disgusted by my scent.
I heard my friend's name being called, followed by mine. Before I knew it, the bird took off, along with my friend's seemingly lifeless body; the last thing I saw before passing out and after a while waking up in a hospital with my grandparents beside me. Moments later, my friend's parents came with the police and demanded I tell them what happened.
I told them everything, from my friend down on the ground, to the "bird-man" that took her, but they never believed me. Her parents called me crazy and told me to stop lying about what really happened. Their scary tone and threatening words made me cry so much that I couldn't talk to them properly. They eventually calmed down and stopped questioning me; though their efforts never got them to find my friend. Days after my recovery, I went back home to Bulan.
The incident left me with panic attacks. Every time I felt movement in my head, I started freaking out and immediately assumed I had a lice infestation. It's been years, but I can vividly remember everything that happened. I know that creature was real, because I’m still alive today.
Stitches and the Tooth Fairy
Story // Marcus Cook
Illustration // Melody Grace
* * *
Shock and surprise are two feelings I most often feel, especially since live with six-year- old witchling, Margo Nowak. My name is Stitchalina Hania Nowak; Stitches for short. I am a ragdoll, who was brought to life by Margo a little over a year ago. I was sewn together over two hundred years ago and passed down for seven generations of Nowak women.
This morning, I was especially shocked and surprised when Margo revealed she got five dollars from the tooth fairy. I can’t remember any previous generation receiving that large amount of money for a little tooth. I can remember when it wasn’t a fairy, but a mouse that took the tooth in exchange for some coins. They also put the tooth in their shoe, instead of under their pillow. This so-called fairy didn’t come into the picture until Margo’s great, great, great grandmother lost her first tooth. It is possible, now that I think about it, that the fairy could have been the mouse. I just don’t have any recollection of seeing either of them take the tooth.
“Are you sure the tooth fairy gave you that money?” I asked while Margo was brushing her teeth.
Margo spit into the sink and answered, “Who else would take my teeth and give me money? A leprechaun?”
“Your parents.” I blurted out.
Margo just stared at me with toothpaste dripping off her chin. I became worried that she was going to get angry, but she started to giggle. “You almost got me, Stitches.” Margo replied as she wiped her chin, “My parents’ take my teeth and give me money.” Margo giggled again, while she helped me off the sink, then walked back into her bedroom. As I helped Margo set the tea table, I felt that Margo wasn’t taking me seriously.
“Margo, you are a genius. Why would a fairy take your teeth?” I asked.
“Why would my parents?” Margo countered. She loved a good debate.
“Well from what your great, great, great, grandmother use to tell her children, people would burn the baby teeth, so witches couldn’t take full control of them.” I answered.
“You think my parents have my tooth, so they can control me? That’s beyond silly.” Margo dismissed my answer.
“You blasted your bed through your ceiling and into the sky with us on it. You once made your lima beans into jellybeans. You brought your doll to life.” I randomly rattled off reasons answering why they wanted to do that.
Margo pondered my reasons, “Okay, you made your point. My parents are never happy when I do unsupervised magic.”
Did I just win the debate? I wondered.
“So now how are you going to prove it?” Margo asked as I stood dumbfound.
“Um…” I tapped my cotton-filled head as I tried to think of a plan. I suddenly heard Bosco bark, “I’ve got a plan.”
Five minutes later, Margo and I were in the back yard waiting until Margo’s parents took Bosco out for his walk. As they left, we crept up to Bosco’s doghouse. I was proud to be leading an adventure for once, until I stepped into his house. It smelled like dog causing me to cover my button nose. Bosco is Margo’s slobbering sheep dog, and even thou we don’t always get along, he has been my hero on many occasions.
Margo held the flashlight from outside as she kept watch. “Do you see them?”
“Not yet.” I answered as I walked to the back of the structure.
Suddenly, I kicked something heavy. I looked down and saw an arm. It was a doll’s arm belonging to one of the two Molly-Wet-A Lots that Bosco had claimed as his chew toys.
“I found the Molly’s!” I called out, the rest of the dolls lay in the far corner ripped up and chewed. I was sorry to see a doll treated like that, but grateful it wasn’t me. Then I spotted it lodged in Molly’s left eye, Bosco’s baby tooth. I put my hands around it and wiggled it out. It was larger than Margo’s but should fit the purpose. Part one of my plan was complete.
That night, Margo told her parents she had lost another tooth. Her father remarked if she kept it up she could pay for college.
Once we set the bait, the final stage of my plan went into effect. Margo placed the tooth and me under her pillow. I was used to being slept on. Then as Margo drifted off to sleep, I waited and waited and waited.
As I started to nod off, I felt the pillow lift. A hand reached in and felt around for the tooth. Just as the hand grabbed it, I leapt on top. I startled it as it quickly pulled out with me holding on. There in the moonlight, I saw Mrs. Nowak.
“I knew it!” I yelled, “Margo wake up! It’s your mom.”
Margo didn’t stir. I looked back at her mom, “So, I was right. There’s no such thing as the Tooth Fairy.”
“Stitchalina, you just had to be right.” Mrs. Nowak replied, “Yet, you are wrong.” She snapped her fingers and I fell face first onto the bed. I looked up and saw a shiny fairy hovering in place of Mrs. Nowak.
“Margo, wake up! The Tooth Fairy is real!” I exclaimed as I nudged her with my foot.
“Margo is under a sleeping spell. I can’t afford children seeing me, then setting traps for the next time they lost a tooth.” The Tooth Fairy explained.
“Then why were you disguised as Margo’s mom?” I questioned.
“Well, the sleep spell isn’t perfect. I got it from one of Santa’s elves and they aren’t the best spell casters.” She responded, “This way if a child does wake up I am still safe.”
The fairy then examined the tooth. After giving it a quick smell, she unexpectedly dropped it to the floor. “Puppy tooth. You fooled me with a puppy tooth.” The Tooth fairy said shocked.
“That was my idea, so can I get the five dollars now?” I asked holding out my muslin hand.
“Sorry. Human teeth only. Goodnight.” The Tooth Fairy answered as she prepared to leave.
“Wait! One question.” I yelled out.
“Fine. One quick question. I have a schedule to keep.” She replied slightly annoyed by my request.
“What do you do with all the teeth?” I asked.
“Google it.” The Tooth Fairy answered, then quickly disappeared in a flash of light.
The encounter wore me out and I nodded off to sleep cuddled with Margo. The next morning, I told the adventure to Margo over a plate of waffles. Margo was disappointed that she slept through it and even more disappointed that there was no money. This all changed as she took a bite of the waffle,
then smiled as she pulled out another tooth. Looks like we will be seeing the fairy soon enough.
Boggle the Bogeyman
Story // Grant Hinton
Illustration // Mama Creep
* * *
Boggle is a bogeyman - or I suppose we should call him a bogey-kid - and he lives with his parents in Snortland. Now you should know that Boggle is big and green; has a wart on the end of his long nose, has yellow eyes, sharp teeth and a mop of upkeep black hair with fluffy bits in it. Although Boggle is big - bigger than you and bigger than me - he’s very scared of one thing. Human children. Every night before bed he gets his dad to check under his bed to make sure no children are there.
“Nope. No children,” said his dad pulling one of boggle’s smelly socks off his spiky ear. “Now, bedtime.”
Boggle pulled the covers up to his saggy chin as his father turned out the lights. Silence invaded his bedroom. The coat on the back of his door looked like a tall, slim human, so did the pile of dirty clothes draped over his chair in the corner. It looked like a fat human, crouched ready to pounce. Boggle felt very scared.
Boggle’s eyes grew tired after a few hours of watching the shadows. The night moved on, and eventually, he fell asleep. He woke up to weird sucking noise. Like the sound of his bathtub emptying after his yearly wash. Long and loud and frightening. Boggle ducked under his covers. it was accompanied by other strange noises.
Tap. Scarpe. Tap. Scrape. Tap. Scrape.
Boggle squeezes his eyes closed and flattened his ears, but he could see hear the terrible noise. Fear ran down his spine as a funny smell invaded his nose. It was a weird, scented smell, like molded oranges. Something was moving around his bedroom. Boggle lowered the covers very slowly. Suddenly they were snatched from his bed. Before he knew his smelly sock was rammed into his mouth, a sack was stuffed over his head and a rope was wound around his arms pinning them to his sides.
Boggle, wide-eyed and scared beyond Snortland, was knocked to the floor and pushed under his bed. He felt a rush of cold air pass his body and then another thump as he was dragged up over a sharp ledge. For a few nerve-racking moments, Boggle didn’t know what was happening until the sack was ripped off his head.
Boggle sat on a chair in a pale blue room under a swinging yellow light. The Pictures of adult humans kicking white balls on the walls wasn’t the scariest part, oh no, that was what was standing in front of him. Three human children glared up at him. All of them were boys, Boggle guessed. Only because he remembered what Grog Collins had told him at school once. “They have shorter hair than the females and are far nastier. They like to bite your fingers off and skin you alive.” Boggle hoped that Grog was wrong. But just in case he curled his fingers into tight fists.
“Now what?” Asked a tubby boy looked through a scruffy head of brown hair with narrow red eyes. He yawned showing two rows of flat teeth. Boggle shivered at the thought of those white gnashers stripping the flesh from his bones.
“I don’t know, I did think that far. I mean I didn’t believe Darren, I thought he was lying.” He looked at the smaller boy who was studying Boggle intently.
“It’s scared!” Said a boy with fair hair, blue eyes and racing car Pajamas. “This isn’t the bogeyman.” He sounded disappointed. Boggle mumbles something around the sock in his mouth.
“What’s it saying,” asked the tubby boy.
“I don’t know,” said Darren, teaching for the sock.
“Don’t!” Cried the boys. “It will bite off your fingers and then skin you alive!”
Boggle arched a caterpillar-sized eyebrow. That was actually what Grog said.
“I don’t think it will, anyway it’s not a bogeyman so it would do those things.” Darren pulled the sock out of Boggle’s mouth with a plop.
“Yuk!” She Darren wiping his hands on his pajamas. “That’s disgusting.”
“You try having a sock in your mouth.” Rumbled Boggle shyly.
The boys backed away quickly from Boggles shape teeth.
“What-What did you say?” Said the tubby boy.
“I said I’m not a bogeyman,” Boggle tested the rope around his legs and arms, but it wouldn’t budge. “That’s my dad.”
“Your dad’s the bogeyman?” Darren crept forward slightly. Fascinated by the ugly green creature they had captured and brought back to his bedroom.
“You’re just a kid, like us.” Darren poked Boggle in the chest and picked at Boggle’s Slim-Monster pajamas.
“I’m eight,” Boggle puffed out his chest proudly. “I bet I’m older than all three of you.”
The scared feeling that had cramped his chest was now sinking to his toes. Grog was wrong. The human children weren’t scary at all, they were rather ugly, especially the tubby boy with the oily skin, but they weren't the fearsome creatures that Grog made them out to be.
* * *
Boggle remembered that day over twenty years ago. A chuckle dying in his throat as he emerged from out of the shadows a fully-fledged bogeyman. He took in the dark, dirty room. Thirteen pairs of large white eyes glowed up at him. He shuddered very slightly. Children. Thirteen filthy, snotty-nosed, grubby, bedraggled human children sat on disgusting mattresses around the room. Some even five to one bed. No wonder the smell in the room was so bad thought Boggle.
“Which one of you lot is Jason?” Boggle’s deep voice rumbled some dirt off the rafters. The kids pointed to the cleanest looking child sitting alone crying into the crook of his arm.
“You’ve got to come with me,” Boggle stated as friendly as he could muster. Which wasn’t very much from a seven-foot-tall, green monstrosity. He shuffled his over-large clawed feet nervously.
“But I did do anything wrong?” Jason wailed. Boggle looked around confused.
“Are you here to eat us up?” Asked a little girl with a frayed red bow in her messy hair.
“No?” Boggle replied. “Why, should I be?”
“The man said if we were loud or made a noise, or cried, the bogeyman would come and get us and gobble us up. Now your here. Are you going to eat Jason up for crying?” She asked.
Boggle looked at the little fair-haired boy. He reminded him of the one from long ago, the one who took the sock out of his mouth.
“No, Jason's dad wanted me to find him. I got to take him home.” Boggle remembers the pact he had formed with the human children. They would capture Grog when he was at his sleepover, and in return, they could call on him when they were in trouble.
“Can you take us all home,” asked a red-haired boy with a patch of freckles across his nose.
“But, I only came here for Jason,” Boggle rubbed his spiky head. “Why are you all here anyway?”
“The man said we aren’t allowed to tell.”
“And where is this man?” Asked Boggle looking around the bare concrete walls of the cellar.
“He’s out. He said when he returns with the last child, we can play his special game.”
“Right,” thought Boggle. The prickles along his back slowly rose with growing dread. Boggle knew these kinds of men. At the Scarefactory, there was a list of bad men. This one wasn’t on there though, thought Boggle. He must have slipped through. Suddenly the screech of car tyres shot around the room.
“He’s back.” Said a child in a singsong voice.
“Leave this to me,” said Boggle as he backed toward the wall. The shadows reached out and swallowed him to the amazement of the children.
The kids shied away from the sound of crying approaching the basement door. The rusty lock clicked, and the door swung open to reveal a small, blotchy face boy-child dressed in dungarees and a yellow undershirt. A tall, thin, dark looming figure pushed him from behind. He roughly shoved him onto the mattress with the red-bowed girl who but an arm around his shoulders protectively and then stood back. Boggle smelt the grim on his breath, saw the frayed edges to his clothes, and the dirty friend bracelet on his wrist.
“Now we are all here,” said the man licking his lip
s. His yellow-tinged eyes lingered on the new boy and then flicked to every child in a deliberate dance. “It’s time to play a special game.” A shiny object sparkle in the dim light from the open door. Boggle growled low in his throat. The man’s cocked an ear, listening intently.
“Who done that?” He hissed. The children backed away from the knife-wielding man. Boggle melted out of the shadows behind him. The man must have felt his thunderous presence as he turned sharply and jabbed at Boggle with the knife. The blade dug into boggles thick hide and then snapped.
The room went dark as Boggle summoned the shadows. The edges creeping out like waves of water. The man backed away stammering and then tripped over a recently emptied mattress. The children watched in mingled delight and disgust as the shadows closed in on the screaming man. The room darkened completely so the children couldn’t see a hand in front of their faces. Boggle moves quickly, wrapping the man up, then he shoved him roughly under the mattress and waited for the thumb to tell him he had landed in his world.
* * *
Boggle sat warming his cold toes on the edge of the fire pit. The dying greenish light of the Snortland moon hung bloated overhead. The forest whispered around him, no really whispered. The venomous, long fanged insects sought the warmth of the fire but squabbled about the brightness of the flames.
Boggle picked at his teeth with the end of a sharp stick. It had been a good night. A deal had been delivered upon and his belly was full. The rotating spit above the fire twirled him onto a semi-trance. The children had all found the way out of the house and a passing pedestrian saw the flight of the children and called the authorities, they didn’t find the man responsible for abducting the children, but Jason’s father was delighted to have his son back. Boggle reached forward and snagged the slowly turning human. Ripping a leg off, he sat back against a gumtree and sank his teeth into the tender flesh. It had been a good night indeed.
