Spooky Stories and Twisted Tales

by Roger Hurn

  After he was gone, the merchant decided to go to the market place. He was angry with Death. ‘Ahmed was my best and most trusted servant,’ he said to himself. ‘Death had no right to scare him.’

  The merchant strode into the market and sure enough he soon spotted Death standing by herself in a shadowy corner.

  He marched up to the creature and said in a very firm voice,’ Hey, I want a word with you.’

  Death turned to the merchant and said in a voice as cold as the north wind in winter, ‘What do you want with me, mortal?’

  ‘Well,’ said the merchant, ‘I want to know why you frightened my servant this morning. You had no right to glare at him.’

  ‘I didn’t glare at him,’ replied Death. ‘The look I gave him was one of surprise.’

  The merchant was puzzled. ‘Why were you surprised to see my servant Ahmed?’ he said.

  ‘Because,’ replied Death, ‘I didn’t expect to see him here in Bagdad. You see I have an appointment with him tonight at his friend’s house in Samarra!’

  Take Care What You Wish For

  It wasn’t fair. Amy Samuels stared at herself in the mirror. Life could be so cruel. A big red spot was glowing on the end of her nose. It hadn’t been there the night before. It wouldn’t be there much longer. Amy’s bedside table had more bottles, lotions, sprays and creams than Boots the chemist. She grabbed the concealer and set to work on the zit. She peered at the result of her efforts. ‘It’s no good,’ she groaned, ‘I could still win a Rudolph look alike contest.’

  Amy looked nothing like Santa’s top reindeer. Amy was a pretty but sulky girl. She sighed deeply. Then she smiled a tiny smile. Amy had planned to go into town with her friends today and window shop. She had been angry when her mum had said no. Mum said she had to visit her Gran instead. This was boring but it meant her friends wouldn’t see the spot. It spoiled her good looks.

  Amy’s mother put her head round Amy’s bedroom door. She glared at Amy. ‘Can you drag yourself away from that mirror?’ she snapped. ‘If you’re not careful you’ll wear it out.’

  Amy said nothing. She began to brush her hair. She loved the way it shone. ‘Amy,’ said her mum crossly, ‘get a move on or we’ll miss the bus.’

  ‘But Mum,’ whined Amy, ‘I haven’t done my eyes or anything yet.’

  Her mother folded her arms and shook her head. ‘We’re going to your Gran’s not to a fashion show,’ she replied.

  ‘Oh right,’ said Amy and banged the hairbrush down on the table. ‘You might not care what I look like but I do.’

  Her mother frowned but said, ‘You’ve got two minutes young lady or there’ll be trouble.’ She turned on her heel and marched out of the bedroom. She didn’t see Amy poke her tongue out at her.

  Amy and her mum rode on the bus in silence. Amy’s mum stared straight ahead. Amy looked at herself in the window. She liked what she saw. “I could be a model,” she thought. “One day I’ll be on the cover of all the fashion magazines.” Then she peeked at her mother and frowned. “I can’t believe she’s my Mum,” she thought. “I mean Mum’s face could turn milk sour. Maybe I was adopted at birth. Perhaps I’ll ask her.” ‘Mum …,’ she began brightly.

  Her mother snapped her head round and glared at Amy. She looked as happy as a shark with toothache. ‘What?’ she snarled. Amy gulped. This was not a good time to talk about the past. Then, to Amy’s relief, the bus pulled up at their stop.

  ‘Come on, Mum,’ she said. ‘Gran will be wondering where we are.’

  A visit to Gran’s was as much fun as a triple maths lesson. As usual, Gran chatted on and on about people Amy had never met. Then she said Amy was too thin. This made Amy mad. How dare her Gran say that? She wasn’t thin - she was slim. But it didn’t stop Gran giving her a lunch that had more fat than Porky the Pig.

  Mum made things worse. She told Gran she had seen Amy with some boys when she was meant to be at her friend’s doing homework.

  ‘Mum, you’re so mean,’ mumbled Amy. ‘I told you I wasn’t with them. They were just in the Mall at the same time as me.’

  But Gran only chuckled. She said that she was sure all the boys wanted to go out with a pretty girl like Amy. Amy gave Gran a look that could have peeled paint. Gran didn’t notice. She was now talking about her friend’s dead cat. The rest of the day went by slowly.

  Amy couldn’t wait for the visit to be over. Yet she hated saying goodbye. Gran always cuddled her and gave her a wet kiss on her cheek. This was bad because Gran had a hairy wart on her chin. Gran called it her beauty spot. It always rubbed against Amy’s face making her feel ill. She was sure the wart was catching. Amy really didn’t need a wart spoiling her good looks!

  Amy had asked her mother about this in the past. Her mother told her she was daft. She said you couldn’t catch warts by kissing. Amy didn’t think she was being silly. “But Mum’s ugly not pretty like me, “ thought Amy, “ so how can she share my fears?”

  When the time came for them to leave, Amy did let her Gran kiss her. But she made up her mind to scrub her cheek with soap as soon as she arrived home.

  On the way home Amy’s mum tried to make friends with her daughter. ‘Amy,’ she said gently, ‘Why are you so sad when we go to see Gran? She loves to see you. She calls you her pretty little doll.’

  ‘Right,’ said Amy fiercely, ‘I am pretty - but she’s boring and ugly.’

  ‘Amy!’ gasped her mother. ‘That’s so unkind.’

  Amy could still feel the hairs from Gran’s wart on her cheek. She was in no mood to back down. ‘I don’t care,’ she muttered sullenly. ‘She looks like a prune she’s so old and wrinkled.’

  ‘That’s as maybe,’ replied her mother, ‘but Gran thinks you’re so pretty because when she was your age she looked just like you.’

  ‘How do you know?’ asked Amy.

  ‘Because I’ve seen the photos,’ said her mother. ‘You two could be sisters.’

  Amy was horrified. ‘That’s not possible. She never looked like me.’

  ‘Well, she did when she was young,’ her mother said firmly.

  Amy closed her eyes. A little shiver passed through her body. In her mind she saw her Gran’s lined face. ‘It’s awful to think that’s what happens to you when you get old,’ she said sadly.

  Her mum reached out her hand to Amy and touched her shoulder. ‘We all grow old,’ she whispered.

  Amy jerked her head up and stared at her mother. ‘Not me,’ she said. ‘Not me.’

  That night Amy went to bed early. She lay there wide-awake. She put on her headphones but not even loud music could stop her feeling sad. Her mother’s words about growing old went round and round in her head. Amy thought she was going mad. Then, at last, she fell asleep. She dreamed that she was sitting at her dressing table looking at herself in the mirror. Then, to her horror, her face changed. She looked just like her Gran!

  She woke up with a start. Her heart was beating fast. She leapt out of bed and ran to the mirror. Her own face looked back at her. She was still young and pretty. She hadn’t turned into her Gran. She sat still for a minute and told herself not to be so stupid. It had just been a nightmare.

  Amy stood up and went over to the bedroom window. She looked up at the stars. One shone brighter than all the rest. It was lovely. Then Amy recalled an old song about wishing on a star. She grinned. She had loved that song when she’d been little.

  ‘Who knows?’ she said to herself. ‘It’s got to be worth a try.’

  Amy thought hard and made a wish. The star seemed to twinkle in reply. Amy smiled and felt at peace.

  The next day Amy woke up feeling happier than she had for days. Her good mood ended when she sat in front of her mirror. She saw that the big red spot on her nose was still there. She covered it with make up. Then she went downstairs to have breakfast. Her Mum was in the kitchen. ‘Oh for goodness sake, Amy,’ she said. ‘You’re not even dressed yet.’

  Amy shrugged. ‘What’s up?’ she replied. ‘We’re not do
ing anything today.’

  Amy’s mum frowned at her. ‘Oh yes we are,’ she said crossly. ‘We’re going to see your Gran today.’

  Amy shook her head. ‘No way, Mum. We went yesterday.’

  ‘Don’t be silly,’ answered her mum. Yesterday was Friday. You were at school and I was at work.’

  Amy frowned. ‘You’re losing it, Mum,’ she said. ‘Yesterday was Saturday.’

  But her mother was too busy putting on her coat to listen. Amy sat down at the kitchen table. She picked up the morning paper. Her eyes opened wide in shock as she read the date. It was Saturday. Amy’s mouth went dry and she felt sick with fear. Her wish had come true – she never would grow another day older.

  Nathan and the Devil

  If you wander over the lush green hills on the island of Jamaica you may stumble across an isolated restaurant called the Green Mango Cafe. It lies far from the beaten track in a secluded spot miles from the hustle and bustle of the city. However, as the Green Mango serves the best food anywhere in the Caribbean people come from far and wide to sample the delights of the cook’s chicken and rice.

  Now, on the evening when these strange events happened, Delroy Mackenzie, the man who owned the small restaurant was tired. The hour was late and the last of his customers had only just left. Wearily he began to wipe down the tables and clear away the plates. Then, suddenly, the door to the Cafe crashed open and there stood a well dressed but wild-eyed man.

  ‘I’m sorry, Sir, but I have just closed for the night,’ Delroy said.

  ‘I don’t care,’ cried the stranger in an agitated voice. ‘I need a drink.’

  Delroy looked sternly at the fellow and was about to send him on his way when he noticed that the man was shaking and looked scared to death. He marched swiftly across the room and, taking the stranger by the arm, made him sit down at a table. He was puzzled by the fact that, although the fellow was wearing an expensive suit, he only had one shoe.

  ‘You look as if you’ve seen a ghost,’ he said gently.

  ‘A ghost?’ replied the man. ‘No, my friend, I’ve just seen the Devil!’

  The cafe owner stared hard at the man but he could see by his frightened face that the stranger was not joking. He dashed to the bar and poured a large measure of rum into a glass. He handed it to the man who drained the fiery liquid in one gulp. The stranger coughed and spluttered as the rum burned his throat but then he smiled gratefully at Delroy.

  ‘Thanks,’ he murmured. ‘I needed that.’

  Delroy pulled a chair up to the table and sat down next to the man.

  ‘I think,’ he said gravely, ‘that you had better tell me exactly what has happened to you.’

  The stranger shuddered briefly, stood up and went to the door of the Cafe. Quickly, he glanced outside then pulled the door shut and locked and bolted it. He sighed deeply and then returned to sit at the table. He bit his lower lip thoughtfully for a moment and then launched into his tale.

  ‘On this very night seven years ago,’ the stranger said, ‘I was walking along the dirt road a mile from here. I was as miserable and as low as a man can be. I had no money and no job. I was dressed in rags. The place I called home was nothing more than a tarpaper shack and my only companions were the cockroaches who shared it with me. I had spent the day in a fruitless search for work but no one was

  hiring. I could hardly hear myself think for the noise my hungry stomach was making. I tell you, man, I was at the end of my tether.’

  The owner of the Green Mango murmured sympathetically but he could see from the far away look in the stranger’s eyes that, although the man’s body was sitting at the table, in his mind he was back in time walking down that dirt road.

  ‘I was desperate and a desperate man doesn’t always think straight,’ said the man. ‘I started talking out loud, arguing with myself. I couldn’t see what to do next so I said to myself, Nathan you’re not a bad man but you’d sell your soul to the Devil if he’d help you out of this mess. I know it was a stupid thing to say but those words were out of my mouth and dancing in the air before I could stop them.’

  Nathan swallowed hard and stared silently into space for a long moment. The Café owner reached out and touched Nathan’s arm. ‘What happened next?’ he breathed fearfully.

  Nathan’s eyes came back into focus and he smiled weakly at the man.

  ‘No sooner had I uttered those fateful words,’ he said, ‘when a cloud passed over the moon. Thunder growled and a flash of lightning split the sky. Although it was a hot summer night the sweat on my face ran cold and a chill slithered down my backbone like a snake. Then a crack appeared in the ground and a cloud of smoke swirled out

  of it. There was a terrible smell of sulphur and then, when the smoke cleared, I saw someone standing in front of me. This man was dressed in a long black cloak with a red satin lining. He wore a top hat and carried a walking cane with a silver Death’s-head for a handle. His face was handsome yet his eyes were cold and cruel and when he smiled at me I felt as if someone was squeezing my heart with an icy hand.

  I wanted to run but I couldn’t move a muscle.’

  Delroy’s eyes were as round as saucers as he listened spellbound to Nathan’s words. ‘Who was this fellow?’ he whispered although deep in his heart he already knew the answer.

  Nathan fixed him with his gaze and replied, ‘The man in the fancy clothes swept his top hat from his head and made a mocking bow to me. Then he said in a voice as smooth as liquid ice, 'Nathan I heard you wish to do business with me so I came at once. Please allow me to introduce myself, my name is Lucifer although some people call me the Devil.' ‘

  The air in the Green Mango Cafe suddenly felt clammy and cold. Silently its owner stood up and fetched the bottle of rum back to the table. He poured them both a glass of the dark spirit. When they had emptied their glasses, Nathan continued with his story.

  ‘As soon as he said these words I knew I was doomed but I heard myself asking if he could make me a rich man. The Devil smiled a wide smile and his teeth glinted like diamonds in the moonlight.

  'Oh yes,' he replied, 'I can make you the richest man in all Jamaica and all I ask is one small thing in return.'

  'What’s that?' I asked him suspiciously.

  'Well,' he replied producing a scroll from deep inside his cloak, 'If you will sign your name on this piece of paper agreeing to let me have your soul I will make sure you become a millionaire.' ‘

  ‘My eyes narrowed,’ said Nathan, ‘and I asked him how long the deal would last?

  The Devil said that seven years was the standard time allowed but I had better hurry up and sign because he had another appointment and he didn’t want to be late. I was starving and the Devil seemed to be offering me riches beyond my wildest dreams so I allowed my misery and desperation to win out over my better judgment. I grabbed the paper from his hand and asked him for a pen. The fiend smiled and said my name could not be written with a pen. Then, faster than the eye can see, he grabbed my hand and pricked my finger with the Death’s-head top of his cane. A drop of blood welled up and Lucifer told me to sign the deal with that. When I had done so, he snatched the paper back from my shaking hands and plunged it into his pocket. Then he looked at me as if I was a mouse and he a sleek and vicious cat and said that in exactly seven years he would meet me on that very spot at the stroke of midnight and I would give him my soul to take down to Hell.

  'Enjoy your seven years of riches, Nathan,' he said, 'for they will pass far more quickly than you can imagine.'

  Once again a cloud passed over the moon, thunder growled, lightning flashed and in a cloud of smoke and stench of sulphur the Devil was gone.’

  Nathan recounted to Delroy how, at this point, he had rubbed his eyes in disbelief and wondered if he had imagined the whole strange meeting. However, when he noticed that his finger was tingling and a smear of dried blood still clung to its tip he knew that he had indeed entered into an unholy bargain.

  Nathan told Delroy how h
e had hurried home that night with his thoughts in turmoil. He did not know if or how the Devil would keep his promise. Part of him wanted nothing to happen so that he could forget that he had ever been so silly as to ask the Devil for help but part of him also wanted to be rich.

  ‘Eventually I arrived back at my little shack and pushed open the door,’ he said. He never bothered to lock it, he confided, for he had nothing that anybody would wish to steal. However, he was surprised to see a letter lying on the floor.

  ‘I bent down and picked it up,’ he told an enthralled Delroy. ‘I ripped it open and saw that it was from a firm of lawyers in Kingston telling me that an uncle in America I never knew I had was dead and had left me 10,000 dollars in his will.’

  ‘That was a stroke of good fortune.’

  ‘Too good. It was the Devil’s doing. I tore up the letter but when I woke up the next morning I couldn’t resist the thought of all that money so I walked all the way into Kingston to the lawyer's office. I told myself that I’d keep just

  enough to buy food and a suit of clothes and then I’d give the rest away to charity. That way I figured the Devil couldn’t touch me’

  ‘And what happened when you saw the lawyer?’ inquired Delroy. ‘Did he give you the cash?’

  ‘Oh yes, that wasn’t the problem.’

  ‘What was the problem?’ asked Delroy. ‘Now you had enough money to buy yourself a square meal, some decent clothes and still have plenty left to give away.’

  ‘The problem was the fact that when I left the lawyer’s office I bought a newspaper.’

  ‘So?’ said Delroy.

  ‘So I turned to the racing page. I read that a horse called Old Nick was running in the twelve o’ clock race at odds of ten to one. Now some people call the Devil Old Nick and I thought if I put all my money on that horse to win and it lost then I wouldn’t owe the Devil anything. I would be free of him forever.’

  Delroy Mackenzie raised his eyebrows and looked extremely sceptical.