by Melody Grace
“Are you sure it’s not a parrot in disguise?” her mum asked, as the large spider sat there. They all laughed again. Then, Marie bravely let it crawl onto her shoulder and took it to find a place for it in her room. She placed it on the shelf, next to her bed. “I’ll call you Peter, after Peter Parker. You know, Spiderman. After all, if you can save me from my nightmares, you’ll be my hero.” She kissed her fingertips and put them to the glass on Peter’s case. It walked up to the glass and put a leg on her fingertips. “Almost like he’s kissing me back” she thought.
Bedtime came around and she talked to Peter about the dreams that she’d been having,
“They’re horrible Peter! At night I feel spiders crawling all over me, trying to get in my mouth. It’s your job to catch the dreams, make a web. Like one of those Native American dreamcatcher thingies aunt Linda has.” She kissed her fingers and put them on the glass, once more Peter touched his leg to them.
Marie woke up suddenly, unable to breathe. Her body felt tight. She tried to scream but her mouth was stuck shut. She cast her eyes around frantically, thrashing her body from side to side.
She rolled to the side and caught sight of herself in the mirror on her wardrobe. Amid the Minecraft poster and MLP stickers she saw herself. Wrapped up like an Egyptian mummy. Covered in webs.
She was panicking now, her head felt light, her chest tight. Like when you hold your breath for too long. Spiders crawled across the webbing, over her bed. Everywhere.
She thrashed some more, trying to get free. Banging her head on the wall, in the hopes of waking her parents across the hall. Every time she banged; Peter’s case moved a little along the shelf. Eventually it crashed to the floor. Glass shattered and Peter raced free.
It was getting hard to think, her vision was blurry. She could see Peter crawling towards her face.
“No” she thought, “Peter, not you. I loved you.” She wanted to roll away, but her energy was gone. She lay there as Peter ran up to her mouth and she lost sight of him.
Air rushed into her body as the webbing was opened around her mouth. It left her body again as a scream. A scream that awoke her parents and they burst into her room.
“Oh god!” her dad exclaimed scooping her from the bed. Her mum just stomped about, trying to kill as many of the spiders as possible.
“Not Peter!” Marie shouted weakly. “He saved me; Peter saved me.”
Meanwhile, Peter dashed about the room. Jumping on the smaller spiders, either squishing the small ones or piercing the larger ones with his fangs.
Her dad carried her from the room and started pulling the webs away. Marie’s mum ran past them, then back again moments later carrying a can of bug killer.
The bedroom door slammed shut and the hiss of the aerosol canister filled the air, a mist of pesticide swirled up from under the door, bringing with it a tang in the air whenever she breathed.
“Peter’s still in there. Please don’t kill him.” Free of the webs, she tore herself from her dad’s embrace and raced for the door. Just as she reached for the handle, it swung open. Her mum coming through and closing it firmly behind her.
“Peter?” Marie asked, tugging her mum’s sleeve, “did you kill my Peter?”
“Sorry dear, no spiders survived in there.” Her mum knelt, hugging her and whispered in her ear.
“I did rescue a parrot though.” Marie pulled back from the embrace and saw Peter crawl around from her mum’s back to sit on her shoulder.
Her parents cleaned the room and aired it out by opening the windows. Despite their arguments, Marie insisted that she would be okay in her own bed. She climbed back into bed, placing Peter on the pillow next to her. Kissed her fingertips and held them out. Peter touched them with his forelegs and Marie closed her eyes, sleep refused to come, and she cried. Peter placed his forelegs next to her ear and she thought she heard a little voice saying.
“Sleep well, I will watch you.” Strangely this calmed her, and she started to drift off to sleep. Even though she knew it was just her imagination, because spiders can’t really talk.
Unless they’re special ones….
Ember
Story // Robin Braid
Illustration // Stew Brown
* * *
Abby rushed through the garden gate calling my name. “Come quick,” she said. “You won’t believe it.”
She was out of breath, her face glowing red. “Did you run all the way here?” I said
“Yes, from the woods. I met someone.”
“Who?”
“A little person. A fairy, I think. Please hurry, before she disappears.”
We ran out of the garden and down the street. At the end of the road was a meadow of long, lush green grass and swaying yellow flowers. On the far side of the meadow lay the woods. Abby pointed towards the tall dark trees on the horizon. ‘We have to go there.’
“I’m not sure if I should.” I said.
“It’s not far. Just over the stream a bit. She told me to be quick though so come on.”
Abby ran on across the meadow, lifting her knees high to hurdle through the long grass. I looked around, saw no-one in sight, then took off after her.
In a minute we’d reached the edge of the woods. The sunlight struggled to break through the branches in there and where the meadow had been alive with the sound of birdsong on the breeze, the woods were almost silent. It made me feel a little strange.
We walked deeper into the trees, twigs and leaves crunching beneath our feet. “I can’t wait for you to meet her. She wants to meet you.” said Abby.
“Who is she though?”
“She said her name is Ember.”
“Where did she come from?”
“I don’t know. We can ask her.”
The stream was narrow and shallow, so we were able to skip across a couple of large stones to get to the other side. As we walked on, I heard whistling. A slow, sweet tune. ‘She’s through here.’ Abby said and ducked between two large bushes.
I followed behind and found us in a small clearing surrounded by the thick, twisted low-hanging branches of a ring of trees. In the middle of the clearing was a raised mound of dirt with a large rock on either side. Between the rocks was a dark hole, like a small cave, large enough to crawl through. I held back as Abby stepped towards it.
“So good to see you again Abby,” said a soft voice. “Welcome. Both of you.”
I saw something move in the darkness of the hole. It came forward a little and I could make out the shape of a small figure. The voice spoke again. “Don’t be afraid. You’re very pretty.”
Abby waved me forward. “This is Ember,” she said. “Come and say hello.”
A tiny white hand reached out, followed by a head of long, bright red hair. The head tilted up and a face like the most beautiful doll I had ever seen was looking at me through large, twinkling green eyes. ‘I’m so glad you girls came; I love to make new friends.’ said Ember.
“Are you…a fairy?” I said.
Ember let out a little laugh. I could see the flutter of silver wings behind her. “Yes child.” she said.
“Are there more of you?” said Abby.
“Oh yes, many. We live together in our wonderful kingdom.”
Abby grinned. “I would like to see it. What do you do there?”
“We sing and dance and laugh. It’s a magical place of golden light, the sweetest music you could ever hear and the most delicious food you could ever wish to taste.” said Ember.
Abby turned to me. “Doesn’t it sound wonderful?”
Before I could answer Abby turned back towards Ember. “How do we get there? Can you take us?”
“I could. If that’s what you want.”
“It is, more than anything. Is it far?”
“It’s all around us, you just can’t see it yet. All you have to do is follow me through here.” said Ember, taking a half step back.
Abby looked at me again. “Can we?”
“I’m not sur
e, I…”
"We'll have the best time," said Ember, "come on girls, there's no time to waste."
Abby knelt down at the entrance to the hole. I felt a sudden surge of panic and called out to her. “Don’t be afraid,” she said, “don’t you want to see the magic place?”
Over Abby’s shoulder I could see Ember’s face, but as she moved back and the darkness fell upon it again, it seemed to shift and move, as though it were changing. The once green and sparkling eyes flashed an angry yellow.
“Abby, no.” I said and leapt forward to grasp her shoulder.
A rasping voice came from out of the darkness. “Step back fool, she’s coming with me.”
A thin, grey hand shot out of the hole and its long, jagged nails snatched at Abby’s hair. She let out a scream.
I spun to the ground and grabbed a stick that lay among the fallen leaves. Wielding it like a sword, I stepped forward and brought it down hard against the earth above the hole. A shower of dirt fell and Abby managed to free herself and scramble clear. I hit the mound again and again causing more dirt to fall. “Curse you and your name, wicked child.” said the voice from within.
I kept hitting until the mound had all but collapsed, burying the hole in clumps of mud and grass. When I finally threw the stick aside, all was silent again.
Abby was sat on the ground trembling. I grasped her hands and helped her to her feet. We took one last look at the fallen mound then walked quickly, without speaking, out of the woods, back across the sunlit meadow, and home.
Under the Bed
Story // Timothy-Mark McLean
Illustration // Vonnie Winslow Crist
* * *
Every single night Charlie lay motionless in bed as the scratching and heavy breathing grew louder and louder. Every single night Charlie yelled out in terror as he felt the blankets being yanked hard from beneath the bed. But this night would be the last.
Charlie's dad, hair wild and eyes red, freshly awoken from a deep sleep, burst into the room. “What's the matter, Charlie? Why are you screaming?”
“It's here again, Dad. The monster's back.”
“Come on, there's no monster, pal. We've been through this.” Charlie's dad yawned and sat beside him on the bed. Charlie could see the disappointment in his father's face and shame made him want to curl up into a small ball and disappear forever.
“Can I sleep with you and Mum?”
“What? No, Charlie. No.”
“But Dad!”
“I said no.” Dad's voice was stern, but then his eyes rolled, and his shoulders slumped. “Come on, get off the bed. Let's get a look at this monster,” he said in a softer voice.
Together with his dad, Charlie crouched down beside the bed. They used his torch to shine light all around the underside, but other than a few tatty board game boxes and a pair of socks nothing was there.
“See?” said Charlie's dad. “You must have dreamt it again.”
“You're probably right,” Charlie said.
“Definitely. Now hop back into bed and get some sleep.”
Charlie got back under the covers and his dad gave him a goodnight kiss on the forehead, then he walked to the door.
“Can you leave it open, please?” asked Charlie. His mind was already racing. If he heard the noises again, he decided he would jump out of bed and bolt through the open door.
“Okay, pal. Good night.”
Not long after his dad left the room, Charlie heard footsteps out on the landing. At first, he thought his dad might have changed his mind and was coming to ask if he still wanted to sleep with him and Mum, but then Margaret's head popped around the door.
Great, thought Charlie, she's probably coming to laugh at me again.
“Hi, Charlie,” said Margaret.
“What do you want?” Charlie really wasn't in the mood.
“You know, I used to have problems with beasts under my bed too.”
This might be useful after all, Charlie thought and sat up. “What do you mean?”
“Well, I used to think there were all kinds of horrible things under there, trying to get me while I was sleeping. Dad used to come in and we would look, but there was never anything there; as soon as Dad left the beasts would be back... and I'd never get any sleep. Until I beat the beasts, that is.” Margaret gave Charlie a quick, triumphant wink.
“How do I beat them?” Charlie asked, bewildered.
“Easy. You just kick the blankets off and shout something like 'Come and get me if you think you're tough enough, you evil beasts!'”
“But I don't want them to get me.” This seemed like the worst possible plan. So far, it seemed to Charlie, the only thing that had kept him safe was holding on to the blanket with all his strength.
“They won't, silly. There aren't any beasts under the bed. You'll see when you shout for them and nothing happens. You're imagining them.”
Now Charlie got it. He thanked Margaret and she went back to her room.
Determined, Charlie lay awake in his bed. He didn't have to wait long before the awful breathing and scratching sounds returned. At the first sign of a tug on his blanket, Charlie kicked off the covers and shouted as loud as he could: “Come and get me if you think you're tough enough, you dirty monster!”
Nothing happened.
Muscles he hadn't realized were tense relaxed and his escaping breath spread calm throughout his body. Charlie thought his words were much better than Margaret's and he would tell her so in the morning, but then...
The breathing was back, heavier than ever. The sound broke into a wheezy cough before rising into a sickening laugh.
Charlie screamed.
* * *
Margaret heard everything from her bedroom. Silly boy, she thought, he was even easier to trick than Margaret had been.
The monster trudged into Margaret's room. “Yummy,” it said.
“Quick,” Margaret hissed, “change into Charlie. We've got it made now, my friend.”
The monster changed its shape into the boy it had just devoured and left the room. “Dad,” it called out as it went, trying to contain its sinister laugh, “please can I sleep with you and Mum?”
