Paul Jenning's Spookiest Stories

by Paul Jennings

  Oh, no, no, no. The moon comes out. And there in its silvery light I can see the eye of the Seeshell glaring up at me.

  And I see something else. A vision. Inside my head. As clear as day I see the faces of the brothers. Watching something. Scowling. Angry. Creeping forward. And then I see what they are looking at. They are looking at me. And what I am doing.

  Shelley and I are kissing.

  Suddenly the Seeshell closes its eye and the vision is gone. The moon is still shining.

  A sentence comes into my mind. A single sentence. A death sentence. The words ring in my head. Feeding the fishes. The brothers will catch me and throw me over the side. I will end up like the last boy on the Oracle.

  But then I stop and think. I don’t have to kiss her. It is up to me. The Seeshell can’t make you do things. It can only show you what is going to happen.

  Okay, so Shelley is beautiful. I can’t stop thinking about her. But I don’t have to kiss her, do I? It is up to me. I am in charge of what I do. I am not so love-crazed that I can’t stop myself from kissing her.

  But just to be on the safe side I will keep the Seeshell a little longer. Just in case. After all, the brothers are still mad at me. It could be useful to know what is going to happen.

  Morning comes.

  ‘Get below,’ growls Johnno. ‘And help Shelley cook breakfast. We are going to repair the damage to the bow.’

  He is in a really bad mood, I can see that. So I hotfoot it down to the galley as quick as I can.

  Shelley gives me a warm smile. ‘You make the toast,’ she says. ‘While I fry the eggs.’

  Oh, she is a beautiful girl. And kind. She is everything a guy could want. Would I like to kiss her? Oh, would I? There is nothing in the world that I would like better.

  But I am not going to. No way. Nothing can make me kiss her.

  Firstly because I would never kiss a girl unless she wanted me to. And secondly because the brothers will kill me if I do.

  So I am safe.

  But I am also not concentrating on what I am doing.

  ‘Look out,’ yells Shelley.

  Black smoke is pouring out of the toaster. The bread is burning. Shelley and I both run for it at the same time. Crash. We bump into each other and Shelley starts to fall. I grab her and just stop her from slipping.

  Her eyes look into mine and we both laugh.

  If ever I was going to kiss her it would be now. But I am not going to. No way. I am not going to end up feeding the fishes. There is nothing in the world that can make me kiss that girl.

  So I don’t.

  But something does happen. Something I cannot stop. Something that is not my fault.

  Shelley speaks to me in a trembling voice. ‘I have been wanting to do this since the first time I saw you, Alan,’ she says.

  She pulls my head towards her and before I know what is happening she kisses me full on the lips.

  She kisses me. No, no, no, no, no. I can’t believe it.

  And worse. So much worse. Through the swirling smoke I see the brothers. Coming towards me with fists bunched.

  8

  This is serious. I have to get away. And fast. I clamber up the emergency ladder and escape through a hatch.

  I hear loud angry voices coming from below.

  ‘Grab the little devil,’ yells Jacko.

  ‘After him quick,’ yells Johnno.

  ‘He kissed our sister,’ yells Tommo.

  I stare around the deck. Where can I run? Where can I go? What is going to happen?

  There is one way to find out. I grab the jar and stare inside but the Seeshell is closed. Its shell is tightly shut. There is no eye in sight. I give the jar a shake. ‘Wake up,’ I yell. ‘Wake up.’

  The shell slowly opens and there it is. The terrible eye. Staring at me. Silent, unblinking. Staring into the future.

  Straight away I see a vision. I see myself lying on the deck. I see my hands tied behind my back. My feet are lashed together. I am shouting something but I don’t know what. I see the brothers lift up my struggling body. I see Shelley, locked in the cabin nearby, crying. The tears are running down her face. I see the brothers throw my struggling body over the side. I see myself sink beneath the waves. Gone to feed the fishes.

  I am history. All of this is going to happen and there is nothing I can do about it.

  ‘Get him,’ says a voice. It is Johnno.

  The brothers have found me.

  ‘Grab him,’ says Jacko.

  ‘Quick,’ says Johnno.

  ‘Stop him,’ says Tommo.

  But they cannot stop me. I am already climbing up the mast. Up, up, up.

  The deck is far below. The ship is swaying from side to side in a strong swell. It is a long way down. I am scared. And I feel sick. I hate heights. In my trembling hands I hold the jar. And in the jar is the terrible Seeshell. I cannot hold on to the mast and the jar at the same time. I need both hands. Suddenly the jar slips from my fingers. Over and over it spins and then – smash.

  The jar breaks into a billion pieces on the deck.

  For a second the brothers stare. Then they start to scream and yell. ‘Aaagh. A Seeshell. Get rid of it. Quick. Don’t look. It’s opening. Don’t look. Don’t look.’ The brothers hold their hands over their eyes. They turn their backs on the Seeshell. They are terrified of it.

  Johnno falls down on his hands and knees. He has his eyes tightly closed. He starts to crawl forward, feeling his way like a blind dog. He feels around with his hands.

  Touching this. Touching that. But not touching the thing he is after. The awesome, the all-knowing Seeshell. It is starting to open.

  Closer and closer. He dabs at the deck with his fingers. Each time just missing the shell. Finally he finds it. Without opening his eyes he forces the Seeshell closed and throws it into the air. It cuts a wide arc above the boat. Plink. It is gone. Back where it came from. Into the ocean.

  The brothers open their eyes and look up at me.

  ‘So,’ says Johnno.

  ‘You looked at a Seeshell,’ says Tommo.

  ‘And now you know what you don’t want to know,’ says Jacko.

  ‘I know what you are going to do,’ I yell.

  ‘You kissed our little sister,’ yells Tommo angrily.

  ‘No one gets away with that,’ says Johnno.

  ‘No one at all,’ says Jacko.

  Suddenly there is another voice speaking. A kind voice. But an angry voice. It is Shelley.

  ‘He did not kiss me,’ she says.

  ‘We saw him,’ the three brothers say in one voice.

  ‘You did not see him kiss me,’ she says. ‘You saw me kiss him.’

  The brothers look at each other. For once they do not know what to say.

  ‘Come down, boy,’ says Johnno at last.

  I shake my head. He still sounds furious. He is still mad at me. ‘No way,’ I say. ‘The Seeshell showed me what you are going to do. I know you are going to throw me over the side.’

  ‘Then you also know …’ says Jacko.

  ‘That nothing can stop us doing it,’ says Johnno.

  ‘So you might as well come down and get it over with,’ says Tommo.

  9

  So here I am. Lying on the deck. My hands tied behind my back. My feet lashed together. I am shouting something. ‘Head first,’ I yell. ‘Head first.’ I see the brothers lift up my struggling body. I see Shelley, locked in the cabin nearby, crying. The tears are running down her face. ‘More,’ I yell. ‘More tears.’

  I see the brothers throw my struggling body over the side. I sink beneath the waves.

  Gone to feed the fishes?

  No. I undo the quick-release knots on my hands and ankles. I float quickly up to the surface. Johnno is waiting there with an outstretched hand. So is Shelley. She is laughing and happy.

  Johnno pulls me into the boat and gives me a towel. ‘It worked,’ he says. ‘We acted your vision out perfectly. You can’t stop the Seeshell’s prophecy from co
ming true. But you can make it come true in your own way.’

  I grin at the three brothers. It was a good plan. We acted out what the Seeshell saw. But we added our own little bit at the end. I undid the knots and escaped.

  And Shelley cried really convincing fake tears.

  The brothers helped me. They are not murderers after all. Or are they? I frown and start to worry.

  ‘What’s up?’ says Johnno. ‘What’s wrong now?’

  ‘You are still killers,’ I say slowly. ‘What about the first boy? What about him?’

  ‘We sacked him. He got another job,’ says Jacko.

  ‘But they are not going to sack you,’ says Shelley firmly.

  ‘How could he get another job?’ I yell. ‘You said he’s feeding the fishes.’

  ‘He is,’ says Jacko.

  ‘Definitely feeding the fishes,’ says Johnno.

  ‘He works in an aquarium,’ says Tommo.

  Are you alone at the moment?

  How do you know for sure?

  There could be unseen people all around. Looking over your shoulder. Listening to what you say. In the room with you now. Maybe the picture on the wall is really staring down at you.

  Okay, I can’t prove it. But that doesn’t mean it’s not true.

  I know from what happened to me that there is more to life than what you see.

  1

  Mum was too busy telling me off to notice how creepy the Bed and Breakfast place was.

  ‘What was your father thinking of, Jeremy?’ she said angrily. ‘Giving a thirteen-year-old boy a mobile phone.’

  ‘Lots of kids have got them,’ I said.

  ‘Yes,’ said Mum, ‘but their fathers haven’t gone off and left them. Who’s going to pay for the calls? That’s what I want to know.’

  ‘You get these little cards,’ I said. ‘They only cost …’

  ‘Don’t give me that,’ said Mum. ‘I’m sending it back.

  If your father wants to talk to you he can come and visit.

  Hand it over.’

  ‘No way,’ I yelled. I pushed the phone deeper into my pocket. Normally I did what Mum told me. But not this time. She was mad because Dad had moved in with another woman. Mum didn’t want me ringing them up.

  She was about to freak out. But instead she froze with her mouth open. She had suddenly realised where we were.

  Standing next to a ramshackle stone cottage on the edge of a foul swamp. She slowly walked to the front door and shivered as she stared at the decaying roof.

  ‘It’s not like I thought it was going to be,’ she said slowly.

  I touched one of the walls. It was damp. The windows were dirty and blocked by bars.

  ‘Listen,’ said Mum.

  ‘I can’t hear anything,’ I said.

  ‘That’s just it,’ she said. ‘Not a sound. Not a cricket chirping. Not a bird singing. It’s almost as if every piece of joy has been chased away.’ She sniffed scornfully. A black-and-white cow was sleepily grazing in the swamp nearby.

  ‘It’s not much of a lake,’ I said.

  ‘It’s not a lake at all,’ said Mum. ‘It’s a disgusting bog.’ Several green bubbles erupted on the surface and burst with a dull plop. It sounded like the rumblings from a rude giant’s guts.

  Mum stared at it sadly. She looked confused.

  ‘I’ll ring Dad,’ I said, ‘and ask him what to do.’

  ‘Over my dead body,’ said Mum. ‘We don’t need his help.’

  Mum turned the door handle. As she did so, I noticed something weird. The door had a sliding bolt. On the outside. Mum slid it open.

  We both stepped in and looked around.

  ‘What a nerve,’ said Mum. ‘Fancy hiring this place out as a Bed and Breakfast. It’s filthy. Dust and cobwebs everywhere.’

  She was right.

  ‘There’s not even any bedrooms,’ I said.

  There was only one room. It held a fridge, a Laminex table, a microwave oven, two chairs and a dirty open fireplace.

  Against the far wall was a pair of steel bunks. On the wall was a dark painting in a frame.

  The furniture was modern but chipped and uncared for. I plonked our two backpacks on the stone floor.

  ‘Look at that,’ I said, pointing to a box on the table.

  We both peered at the small metal box. There seemed to be a muffled noise coming out of it. I placed my ear against the lid. Yes, a fluttering noise. Unpleasant.

  ‘There’s something alive in there,’ I whispered.

  ‘Don’t touch it,’ said Mum. She flicked on the light switch. One dim bulb glowed feebly from the ceiling.

  I rattled the bars on the windows. ‘At least no robbers can get in,’ I said. ‘It’s like a fortress.’ That’s what I said. But what I was thinking was: It’s like a jail.

  ‘I’m going to ring up and complain,’ said Mum. ‘Maybe it’s a mistake. It must be the wrong place.’

  I took out my bright-red mobile and held it out. Mum glared at it as if it was a hot coal. ‘No way,’ she said. ‘I’m not using anything he gave you. I’ll go back to the car and get my own.’

  ‘Don’t be silly, Mum,’ I said. ‘It’s a long walk.’

  She shook her head. ‘I need to be on my own for a bit,’ she said. ‘And I’m not going to drag those packs back for nothing. We might have to stay here. You mind our stuff while I’m gone.’

  She marched off down the narrow track and disappeared over a scrubby hill.

  I was alone.

  2

  I stepped outside and walked around the building. It was musty and dank. It had a smell of … I tried to think … Long ago. The odour of a dark and dangerous age. I hoped that Mum would hurry. It would be dark soon.

  I went back to the door of the house and peered in. It reminded me of a foul mouth with rotten teeth and stinking breath. A black hole that would chew me up and swallow me down into a disgusting, heaving stomach.

  ‘Don’t be stupid,’ I said to myself. I stepped inside.

  A cold tide of fear began to wash over my body. Was someone watching? Or something? I sat on one of the chairs in the middle of the room. Invisible eyes seemed to be staring at the back of my head. I kept turning around to grab a glance but the room was always empty.

  It was as if a presence had disappeared just before I moved.

  I picked up the chair and moved it so that I was sitting with my back against the wall. Now nothing could come close without me seeing it.

  Or could it?

  There was a presence in that room. I could feel it seeping down from above.

  I jumped off the chair and examined the painting hanging there.

  It was horrible. A vision from the far-off past when people drew pictures of hell and what awaited the wicked.

  It was a painting of a skeleton holding a huge toad over an iron pot. Flames blazed in the fireplace nearby.

  The room in which the painted skeleton stood was bare except for a chipped wooden table, two beds with straw mattresses, two stools, and two long sticks with cloth bundles tied to each of the ends. There was also a painting on the wall but it was too small to see what was in it.

  I closed my eyes to shut out the terrible image. ‘Don’t be silly,’ I told myself. ‘It’s only a painting.’ My words had no effect. I shivered.

  It was time to go.

  I wanted Mum.

  I bent over to pick up our packs. And as I did so a cold gust of wind came from nowhere and slammed the door closed.

  I knew before I rushed over and shook the door handle that it would be locked from the outside.

  It was.

  I was trapped. There was no way out.

  3

  But. Oh, yes, yes, yes. There was something I could do.

  Thank heavens for Dad. And his Christmas present. I could get help. I took out my mobile phone and feverishly pushed at the buttons. What was Mum’s mobile number? 0419 5562 …? No, 0417 5561 …? Come on, come on. I knew it well but my mind wouldn’t work properl
y. I was panicking. Quick, quick, quick. Think.

  The fluttering from the box on the table grew louder. I backed away from it.

  Click. The lid sprang open. Something zipped out.

  A high-pitched buzzing sound filled the air. Oh, shoot.

  A bright-red dragonfly circled angrily above my head. Down, down, down it came in ever smaller circles.

  Do dragonflies bite? Or sting? I wasn’t sure. I waved the mobile blindly above my head, trying to swat the dragonfly away. The thought of the huge insect’s legs settling on my hair freaked me out.

  Zap. What was that?

  The mobile felt different in my hand. I stopped waving and gasped. I was holding a small wooden block with patterns dug into it. Some sort of ancient carving. My mobile phone had vanished.

  Bzz, bzz …

  The dragonfly was on the move again.

  I threw the carving onto the floor and ran to the window. I grabbed the iron bars and put my feet up against the wall. I strained and struggled until the sweat poured down my face.

  Bzz …

  I pulled at the bars even more wildly. In that position I was totally at the dragonfly’s mercy, not able to use my hands and feet.

  ‘Move, move,’ I grunted at the bars.

  Zap.

  What was that? I dropped to the floor and crouched down with my head between my knees. A soft crackling noise spluttered across the room. I sneaked a look.

  Everything was just the same. No, it wasn’t. A fire had burst to life in the fireplace. It had been empty before with not a stick of wood to be seen. Now it was blazing away. What was going on? Who had lit the flames?

  Bzz. The dreadful dragonfly was still circling. It landed on the top bunk.

  Zap. The bunk disappeared.

  Now the buzzing red insect was heading down to the lower steel bunk.

  Zap. The other bunk vanished.

  The air shimmered. Something was growing where the bunks had been. I gasped in horror. It was like watching a tree sprout in fast forward.

  Two rickety beds with straw mattresses appeared from nowhere.

  The room began to take on an eerie air. The walls seemed to sob with the cries of long-lost souls. A chill arose through my shoes. The stones on the floor seemed as if they had been washed with a million tears.