The Unbelievably Scary Thing that Happened in Huggabie Falls

by Adam Cece

  But Cymphany didn’t hear this noise over the straining and buckling of the plastic of the portaloo and Kipp screaming from the ground, ‘Dinosaurs do exist, Cymph. One is about to eat you, so hurry up and get out of there would you?’

  At this point in the story you might be getting a little bit scared that one of the main characters is about to get eaten by a dinosaur. You’re probably thinking, I should have known something like this was going to happen, as this book is called The Unbelievably Scary Thing that Happened in Huggabie Falls, but I had no idea it was going to be this unbelievable. I had no idea a main character was going to get eaten by a dinosaur, in a portaloo of all places!

  As the author of this book, I was worried that this scene might cause undue distress to readers, and it’s for this reason that I did suggest to my publisher that a sticker be put on the cover of the book warning readers that characters, both minor and major, in this book might be eaten by dinosaurs. But my publisher thought this might spoil the suspense of the story. And who wants to read a book when they already know what is going to happen? Personally, I think that if I saw a shopful of books and one of them had a sticker on the front warning that characters inside could be eaten by dinosaurs, that would be the first book I would pick up.

  But it is distressing when a major character is about to be eaten, especially if that character is Cymphany Chan. I notice no one seemed concerned for the various members of the Dinosaur Fearers Anonymous group, who, as we heard moments ago, had already been swallowed. It’s hardly surprising. People rarely care about the fate of nameless characters. It may interest you to know that one of those characters, Truman Trotter, who was actually the DFA member trying to call out to Cymphany, is one minor character that I had actually planned to make into a major character in a future book, so I personally was very upset to find out that he got swallowed. I’m not so sure he will make it to a future book now. I mean perhaps those swallowed characters will all band together and formulate an escape plan, but I have to say their odds of survival are poor—and that’s being optimistic.

  Anyway, where was I? Oh yes, Cymphany, still refusing to believe it was possible she was about to be eaten by an extinct creature, heard the plastic of the portaloo squealing and buckling, which lasted only a second, before the portaloo’s frame gave way and the dinosaur clamped its jaws shut.

  I am not a fan of the practice of ending a chapter on a cliffhanger, where, say—hypothetically speaking—a major character in a portaloo is in the process of being bitten in half by a dinosaur. These sorts of shameless, suspense-building techniques might be great for building tension, but they are very distressing for characters inside portaloos that are being bitten in half by dinosaurs. This is why I did not end this chapter right as Cymphany was being eaten by the T-Rex.

  But, just in case the publisher inserted a chapter break just as Cymphany was being eaten, I sincerely apologise. I do not condone behaviour like this, and all letters of complaint should be addressed directly to the publisher, as I cannot handle any more letters—since writing The Extremely Weird Thing that Happened in Huggabie Falls my letterbox is full to bursting with fan mail, as you’d expect.

  Now we have that out of the way, I know you are dying to find out what happened to Cymphany, so I shall get on with the story without any more pesky, unnecessary, supposedly suspense-building chapter breaks.

  So without further ado (another silly expression, because why would anyone possibly add ado to anything. I don’t even know what ado is, but I imagine the last thing anyone ever wants is further of it), here is what happened to Cymphany.

  When the portaloo was bitten in two, the only thing that stopped Cymphany from instantly being bitten in two too, was her ability to crouch down lower than the height of the portaloo’s toilet.

  This small porcelain toilet withstood the crushing force of the dinosaur’s bite admirably, and kept the portaloo from flattening completely. But it wasn’t a very strong porcelain toilet and it soon turned into a spiderweb of stress cracks and looked like it too was about to collapse.

  When Cymphany realised she was about to end up in a similar condition to one of the chicken drumsticks she ate last night, she had about one second to think, perhaps I should rethink this whole extinct-animals-don’t-exist idea now that I’m about to be eaten by one—what textbook did I even read that sixty-five-million-years thing in anyway?—before the screeching and plastic splitting sound suddenly stopped.

  Cymphany watched the world swivel, and then, through a narrow gap between the dinosaur’s clamped-together teeth, she saw a person standing on top of a tall building eye-to-eye with the T-Rex.

  It was Gertrude.

  The dinosaur snorted air through its nostrils, which blew Gertrude’s hair backwards, and the dinosaur glared at her, as if to say, what do you think you’re doing standing on the top of a tall building and looking me in the eye? I am in the middle of crushing this portaloo, and I’m not sure I like you watching.

  Gertrude didn’t move, and this seemed to confuse the T-Rex, who was obviously more accustomed to people turning and running away in fear than just standing and staring with their arms crossed. The T-Rex looked perplexed, which is a very hard look to pull off when you don’t have any eyebrows.

  Gertrude dropped her arms and took a deep breath. And then her face twisted. She grunted and strained, and her face turned purple with agonised effort. Millimetre by millimetre, her cheek muscles played tug of war with the edges of her lips, finally dragging them out towards her ears, and then her ear muscles took over and forced the edges of her lips upwards, while at the same time her lips wrenched apart to expose two fiercely clenched rows of teeth. She held this pained expression for what seemed like an eternity, until her eyeballs looked ready to pop out of their sockets and bounce across the rooftops.

  The dinosaur watched her. And then its eyes widened, and it roared. It let go of the almost-completely-flattened portaloo and then it turned and stomped back down the alley—not stopping or even looking back, as it ploughed through ten buildings in a row. And it kept going until it finally disappeared somewhere near the horizon.

  Cymphany rolled out of the portaloo, and Kipp and Tobias ran over to her. They all looked up at the tall building.

  With the dinosaur gone, Gertrude released the smile from her face, accompanied by a gigantic expulsion of air. Then she staggered, her eyes rolled backwards into her head, and she collapsed onto the rooftop.

  If something advantageous happens at just the right moment, it is said to be fortuitous. For example, it was fortuitous that at the exact moment Cymphany was about to find out what being chomped in two felt like, Gertrude appeared on that rooftop and scared the dinosaur away with her smile.

  Hours after this fortuitous event, Cymphany was at home, lying in her bed and thinking she might change her opinion from dinosaurs definitely are extinct to dinosaurs definitely should be extinct.

  And as Kipp lay in bed that night he decided that next time he asked people if they were thinking what he was thinking, he might just say what he was thinking instead, to avoid any confusion.

  And Tobias was thinking, wow, all this stuff that is going on really is unbelievably scary. I’m glad I’ve got a night light.

  Cymphany, Kipp and Tobias had finally gone home after spending the afternoon discussing the fortuitous timing of Gertrude’s appearance on the rooftop, as well as the unbelievably scary things that were happening all over Huggabie Falls and how none of them had the foggiest idea what was causing them all.

  The next day, on the way to school, another fortuitous thing happened—this time to Kipp. A brochure fluttering along on this windless day flew up and slapped Kipp in the face. Now this alone does not sound fortuitous, I know. In fact, it sounds a little bit more like a for-crying-out-loud-ious moment. And Kipp certainly didn’t think it was fortuitous at the time.

  In fact the first thing he thought was: Hang on, are we in the middle ofa solar eclipse, because the world has gone dark al
l of a sudden…oh, wait, it’s just a piece of paper on my face.

  He pulled the piece of paper off his face and noticed it was a flyer, both in terms of the fact it was flying through the air and also that it was a piece of paper with advertising material printed on it, otherwise known as a flyer:

  New Huggabie Falls Attraction

  The House of Spooks

  Grand Opening!

  Whatever you fear,

  The House of Spooks has it here,

  If you dare.

  The first thing Kipp thought was: That slogan started with a great rhyme and ended with no rhyme. It would have worked a lot better if it finished with something that rhymes with here, like deer, or rear, or cheer. Hmmm…but then again finishing with ‘if you cheer’ doesn’t sound scary at all.

  Kipp screwed the flyer up into a ball and was about to throw it away. But suddenly he thought:

  Hang on a second.

  Now I wish Kipp had thought, hang on a second, I’d better not litter, because littering is wrong—it’s very bad for the environment. I’d better put this bit of paper safely in my pocket until I find a rubbish bin. But he wasn’t thinking that, which is a sign that Huggabie Falls Primary School really needs to step up its anti-littering program. In case you’re wondering, its anti-littering slogan was:

  Keep the Streets Clean and Serene.

  It’s a Good Thing to Do.

  Coincidentally, Huggabie Falls Primary School employed the same marketing company for its anti-litter program that the House of Spooks employed for its grand opening event, a marketing company that was great at making their slogans start with the perfect rhyme, but not great at making their slogans finish with one.

  But Kipp wasn’t thinking about the evils of littering, or bad rhyming slogans. He was thinking about the amazing coincidence that at the same time that Huggabie Falls residents were being terrified by unbelievably scary things, a place called the House of Spooks was opening.

  It was also weird that the only way he had found out about the House of Spooks was that on a completely still, windless day a flyer had blown into his face.

  Kipp frowned as he unscrewed the flyer. ‘Well,’ he said. ‘That was fortuitous.’

  And that is exactly what it was: fortuitous. As soon as I found out that this had happened to Kipp, I thought, I hope the readers at home (or on buses, or on horseback, or in the middle of a fencing contest—or wherever you are) don’t think that this is another conveniently placed clue. In the first book of the Huggabie Falls trilogy, a business card turned up in the letterbox of Kipp Kindle’s house, which led Kipp, Tobias and Cymphany to Felonious Dark’s agency. It was an extremely helpful business card, and as such readers had the audacity to accuse me of planting it in the letterbox.

  As I explained then, and as I am pained to explain again, I have no control over what happens in this story or what turns up in letterboxes or blows into faces. I am not able to control the actions of the characters in this story, like some devilishly handsome puppet-master. I am merely recounting the events of this story, exactly as they happened.

  So I was as surprised by the fortuitous flyer as Cymphany and Tobias were when Kipp showed it to them at school a little later that day.

  ‘Wow,’ said Tobias, holding the flyer in his hands. ‘That slogan would really work a lot better if it ended with a rhyme.’

  Kipp smiled. ‘I thought exactly the same thing.’

  ‘You’re both missing the point,’ Cymphany said, with the tone of someone who always gets the point and loves pointing out when others are missing it. ‘The House of Spooks has obviously got something to do with all the unbelievably scary things happening in Huggabie Falls.’

  ‘What happened to that dinosaur?’ Tobias asked, glancing nervously outside. ‘You don’t think it will come back, do you?’

  Cymphany shook her head. ‘Last I heard the authorities were chasing it up the topless hill, and as that hill has no top, they could be chasing it for quite some time. Meanwhile, the members of the DFA, the ones who weren’t eaten, have all left town.’

  ‘I don’t blame them,’ Kipp said. ‘I heard they also changed their logo to one that features a Tyrannosaurus Rex, which I think we all saw coming.’

  ‘Who do you think is going to be scared next?’ Tobias wondered aloud.

  With impeccable timing, Mrs Turgan burst into class a moment later, screaming, ‘Bathtubs.’

  Mrs Turgan often came into class screaming things, usually spells that resulted in children getting turned into newts, or complaints that the prices of cauldrons were going up again even though they were ‘sky high’ already. But she had never come in screaming ‘bathtubs’ before.

  She slammed the door shut and leaned a chair against the handle so that the door was wedged shut. Then she ran across the room and flung herself behind her desk.

  Kipp, Tobias and Cymphany, and Ug Ugg—who was sitting in front of them and who was not a child but a troll—looked at each other.

  Mrs Turgan peeked out from behind her desk, trembling. She fixed her eyes on the door.

  Ug Ugg raised his hand. ‘Is something the matter, Mrs Turgan?’ he asked. ‘And will it have any impact on our maths test today?’

  The rest of the class groaned. Ug Ugg was the only student who actually enjoyed maths tests.

  But Mrs Turgan didn’t seem to hear Ug. She mumbled, ‘Bathtubs. Bathtubs. They’re chasing me everywhere. They’ve even got…’ She gulped. ‘Rubber duckies in them.’

  Cymphany glanced at Tobias and Kipp, as if to say, I think we just answered the question of who is going to be unbelievably scared next. She put up her hand. ‘Mrs Turgan, you haven’t been anywhere near the House of Spooks, have you?’

  This seemed to get Mrs Turgan’s attention. ‘Why would I go there?’ she snapped. ‘Although, come to think of it, I was walking past that new House of Spooks place when the first bathtub started to chase me. I haven’t had a bath since 1951, and I don’t intend to have another one anytime soon. They make you smell like’—she shuddered—‘lavender.’

  There was a creaking noise in the hallway outside, and the sound of sloshing water. Mrs Turgan shrieked. She pointed her wand at the top of her head with one hand and opened her desk drawer with the other. ‘I’m going to turn myself into a pencil sharpener and hide in this drawer,’ she wailed, and then she blurted out something that Kipp, Tobias and Cymphany couldn’t quite understand, but it definitely had the words ‘hocus pocus’ in it. A green spark flew from the tip of her wand, and there was flash of light. Mrs Turgan disappeared, leaving only the sound of plastic tinkling on wood, which was presumably the sound of a pencil sharpener falling into the drawer.

  The class went completely silent. There was another creak in the hallway, followed by a slosh, and all the students turned and stared expectantly through the window in the classroom door. A moment later Huggabie Falls Primary School specialist science teacher Mr Dungolly strolled past, swishing coffee in his coffee cup. He took a loud slurp of his coffee, which echoed in the silent hallway, and plodded off. He wasn’t a bathtub. It seemed Mrs Turgan’s fears were unfounded. But Mrs Turgan wouldn’t have worked this out, as pencil sharpeners don’t have eyes or ears or brains.

  Ug Ugg put up a timid hand. ‘Is that a no to the maths test, Mrs Turgan?’

  Kipp, Tobias and Cymphany looked at each other. ‘Are you both thinking what I’m thinking?’ Kipp asked.

  Cymphany and Tobias nodded. ‘That we should definitely visit the House of Spooks after school?’ Cymphany suggested.

  ‘Oh good,’ Kipp smiled. ‘This time you actually were thinking what I was thinking. We’re obviously all getting a lot better at this.’

  So, after school Kipp, Tobias and Cymphany went to check out the House of Spooks, which they only knew about thanks to the fortuitous flyer that had been blown by an invisible wind. The flyer also indicated that the House of Spooks address was 1884 Digmont Drive. As we’ve already established, a place’s address in Huggabie Falls
is no help in finding that place, due to the fact that every street in Huggabie Falls is called Digmont Drive. But Kipp, Tobias and Cymphany were able to narrow down their search area somewhat, as they were quite familiar with many parts of Huggabie Falls, especially those near sweets shops or video game arcades, and they probably would have noticed if those parts had suddenly acquired a new attraction called the House of Spooks.

  Now at this point in the story, I should probably address the fact that many readers would have screwed their noses up when they read that Huggabie Falls had sweets shops and video game arcades. I understand that many children may not even be aware of what a video arcade is. Most children these days carry video game arcades around in their pockets on mobile phones, which seem to be able to do everything. I saw a child the other day using a mobile phone to order a pizza, which I found quite impressive, especially as we were in the International Space Station at the time.

  Anyway, in Huggabie Falls things are, as we already know, weird. One of the weird things about Huggabie Falls is that it is very dangerous to carry a mini-computer, like a mobile phone, around with you, on account of the fact that computer viruses in Huggabie Falls are not standard computer viruses, but weird ones that like to also infect people. In Huggabie Falls, if you catch a computer virus your mind starts to get corrupted. Like the time Henrietta Humpling’s father suddenly started believing he was a chicken, and he stuck feathers all over his body and moved into the neighbour’s chicken coop. The only way to get rid of these weird Huggabie Falls computer–human viruses is to pay for a computer–human-virus removalist to come around and reboot you, which doesn’t mean they give you a new pair of boots. It means they reset your mind, back to some time before you caught the virus, which could end up being when you were a baby, which would mean you would have to relearn everything you’ve ever learnt in your entire life all over again. And sometimes, even then, the virus never totally goes away. To this day, Mr Humpling still wakes up some mornings and is alarmed to find a freshly laid egg in his bed.