The Curse of the Deadly 7

by Garth Jennings

  As Jim huddled there, breathless, cold and disorientated, he thought he could still smell his father’s cologne. In that moment, Jim did not think of Nelson Green, of revenge, or even of creating his own monsters. All he wanted was to return to the warmth and joy of his memories. Jim didn’t even notice the steam rising from the seven copper test tubes that had toppled from the iron rack beneath the sin extractor, and though his back was covered in hundreds of tiny red dots of blood, Jim lowered himself on to the needles once again.

  The shocking and paralysing pain returned, swiftly followed by the rush of bliss as another happy memory engulfed him. This time he was eight years old, lying on the carpet under the Christmas tree and looking up through the branches at the lights and baubles.

  While Jim was immersed in this sumptuous memory, vapour and steam leaked out from underneath the sin extractor, but this time the copper test tubes were not in place to catch it. Whatever was being extracted from Jim was pouring on to the floor and collecting in silvery puddles that hissed and bubbled as if the floor were hotter than hell.

  GOODBYE, NELSON

  Miser laid the pen down and read the note he had just written.

  ‘Mmmm. I think this should explain everything to Master Nelson.’ He folded the paper in half and tucked it into the sleeping bag next to Nelson.

  ‘Should we all hold hands, then?’ said Hoot.

  ‘I’m not holding hands with you,’ grumbled Stan.

  ‘Good idea, Hoot,’ said Puff. ‘All hold hands.’

  With lightning speed, Miser whipped the sin-extractor needle out of the cuddly pigeon and jammed it into the middle of Nelson’s chest. Nelson didn’t even flinch. He was still fast asleep. No sooner had the needle pierced Nelson’s skin than Miser felt that overwhelming pulling sensation.

  ‘Hold tight! We can’t leave anyone behind!’ shouted Miser as his hand began to shrink and disappear into the needle he was holding on to. All of the monsters could feel the pull of the needle travelling through them.

  ‘On second thoughts, I don’t want to leave! I want to stay! I very, very much want to stay!’ cried Hoot as he watched Miser’s entire body shrink and funnel into the tip of the needle, like a sand timer in reverse.

  ‘Too late! Hold on!’ shouted Spike over the loud whooshing sound. Nelson’s body shook beneath the sleeping bag like an astronaut during re-entry as, next into the needle, went Spike. His rubbery green body followed his stringy right arm into the tip of the needle, and with a whoosh! he was gone.

  ‘Aaaah!’ wailed Hoot, and though he tried to pull back, his yellow wing could not fight the powerful pull of the needle. ‘Goodbye, my friends!’ were his last words before he vanished, pulling Puff in behind him. The process of being returned to Nelson’s soul suddenly sped up. Now that Hoot’s reluctance to leave had been overcome, the others flowed as quickly as river water into the needle. Crush was the last in the chain and with one last ‘HONK!’ he vanished.

  The whooshing stopped. The needle twitched in Nelson’s chest. All was quiet except for Nelson’s slow and gentle breaths.

  And that was that.

  Miser, Hoot, Puff, Nosh, Spike, Stan and Crush had returned to Nelson’s soul.

  HAPPINESS

  While Jim had been lying steeped in happy moments from his past, the sin extractor he lay upon had been hissing and shaking. Seven types of monster were being extracted from his soul, their essence spilling out on to the museum floor, where they began to slither and take form. One was cactus-like; another was red and horned. There was a fluffy purple one, a chubby pink one, a slippery blue one, a yellow feathered one, and a trumpet-faced orange one. Each new monster bore a resemblance to Nelson’s monsters but for three significant differences: they grew much bigger, each one reaching approximately five feet in height; their colours were duller and more dreary; and lastly, they were much, much, much uglier. They had lumps and bumps and warts and tufts of hair and lopsided faces with eyes that looked in different directions. Some were extremely skinny, some bloated as if about to pop, and some looked like they were made of melting wax.

  The terrible thing was that this was the eighth time Jim had lain on the sin extractor. This meant there were now eight of each type of monster. Fifty-six monsters in total. With each new extraction, their ugliness had grown more profound and sickening.

  None of them said a word. They simply stood in the darkness around their maker, breathing and panting and watching with wide eyes as Jim lay smiling on the sin extractor.

  They could feel the happiness he was experiencing and they liked it. They wanted to keep this feeling as much as he did, so when Jim fell to the floor feeling cold and sick, they felt it too, and eight trumpet-nosed monsters ran forward to pick him up.

  ‘Honk! Honk! Honk!’ they honked in raspy unison.

  Jim looked up, his face covered in sweat, to see the monsters leaning down to help him.

  ‘Once more,’ whispered Jim, and the monsters obliged by lifting Jim off the floor and laying him back on the extractor.

  MIXED FEELINGS

  Nelson knew something was different before he had even opened his eyes. His body felt heavy and uncooperative, and when he yawned it felt as if his lips were swollen. When he finally managed to heave his eyelids open and sit up, he realized it was morning, and he was alone.

  ‘Guys?’ Nelson’s voice croaked. ‘Stan? Puff? Spike? . . . Aaah!’

  Nelson looked down to see the sin-extractor needle sticking out of his chest. He was almost sick at the sight of it and it took him several deep breaths before he could summon the courage to pull the needle out. Though it was buried an inch into his chest, it didn’t hurt a bit once it was out.

  Nelson looked at the needle and understood what had happened. His friends were gone for good. Without warning, he felt the urge to sneeze.

  ‘Honk!’

  Nelson sat up straight. Did he just make a honking sound? It certainly didn’t sound like his usual sneeze. He rubbed his nose. It felt normal. He must have been mistaken.

  Nelson laid the needle beside him and unzipped his sleeping bag, to find a large piece of white paper tucked inside. He turned the paper over, and written in purple felt tip was the following message.

  Master Nelson,

  If you are reading this it means we have successfully been reabsorbed into your soul. It was Spike’s wish to leave as we did. He did not want to say goodbye. We are sorry to have used Puff to put you to sleep but we felt it was for the best.

  Goodbye,

  Miser, Hoot, Spike, Crush, Stan, Puff and Nosh XXXXXXX

  PS: We hope you do not experience any side effects. We are not 100 % sure what the outcome will be.

  ‘That’s it? That’s all they wrote?’ said Nelson in disbelief to an empty tent. ‘Wow. After all this time, after everything we’ve been through . . . just a stupid little note?’

  Nelson felt a rush of anger, and kicked out so hard that his foot tore through the bottom of the sleeping bag.

  Nelson sighed, and touched the back of his hair where it met his neck. He had half expected it to grow all at once, but it felt the same as it always did. ‘Urgh. Nothing’s even changed. I’m still the same.’

  It was the day of his uncle’s wedding, but the thought of it made Nelson want to go back to sleep.

  The twang, twang, twang sound of trampoline springs meant that his neighbour George was already bouncing in his back garden. Nelson unzipped the tent and, sure enough, there was George bouncing up and down behind the garden wall.

  ‘All right, George?’ said Nelson dully, and for the first time in ages, George spoke.

  ‘You slept in a tent.’

  Nelson was caught by surprise to hear George respond. ‘Uh, yeah, I did sleep in a tent.’

  ‘I did that once. In Scouts. I slept in a tent. It was cold, though.’

  ‘I didn’t know you were in the Scouts.’

  ‘I’m not any more.’

  ‘Oh.’

  Remember, George is still
bouncing up and down while this conversation is taking place.

  ‘They said I had to leave because I didn’t join in enough.’

  ‘Right. Joining in’s probably a big deal in Scouts.’

  ‘Yeah. It is. And badges. Badges are a huge deal.’

  ‘Badges, yeah.’

  The conversation suddenly reached a dead end, and for a moment neither of them could think of how to keep it going. George kept bouncing, and Nelson thought that maybe it was best to make his excuses and be on his way, when George came up with a conversation kick-starter.

  ‘The wedding’s today, isn’t it?’

  Nelson was impressed by what a good spy George was.

  ‘Actually, yeah, it is.’

  ‘Your uncle is getting married to the history man off the telly.’

  ‘Doody.’

  ‘It was on the news.’

  ‘Was it?’

  ‘I’ve never been to a grown-up party.’

  Nelson realized why George was being so chatty. He wanted to come to the wedding party!

  ‘Should be fun. The wedding’s going to be at St Paul’s Cathedral.’

  ‘I went on a trip to St Paul’s once. I did a brass rubbing of a saint. He had a thin face and he looked sad and he was carrying a goat. Or a weasel. It wasn’t a very good rubbing.’ George stopped bouncing and the silence that followed was massive.

  Luckily for Nelson, Celeste chose that moment to push the back door open with her foot, carrying two cups of tea.

  ‘I was just coming to wake you,’ said Celeste. ‘Oh, hello, George. You’re up early.’

  George snapped back to his usual silent and awkward self and resumed bouncing.

  ‘So they really are gone,’ said Celeste as she put down Miser’s letter on the kitchen table.

  Nelson nodded while devouring a slice of toast and lowering another slice of bread into the toaster. ‘I’m just gonna have one more. With peanut butter this time. And jam.’

  ‘You all right?’

  Nelson shrugged. ‘Hungry. Really hungry.’

  ‘I mean, you don’t have to pretend with me, Nelson. It’s natural to feel upset.’

  ‘I know – I just . . . I don’t know how I feel. I mean, I’m hungry. And tired.’

  ‘Maybe you just need time to, you know, process it.’

  ‘I CAN’T BELIEVE THEY WOULD JUST LEAVE WITHOUT SAYING GOODBYE!’ roared Nelson, and he kicked the kitchen cupboards.

  Minty shot out of her basket and began barking at Nelson.

  ‘Whoa! Nelse! Where did that come from?!’ Celeste jumped up from her chair and grabbed her brother’s shoulders to steady him. Nelson was shaking and looked as surprised by his own outburst as Celeste did. Minty continued to bark angrily at Nelson.

  ‘Quiet, Minty! Shh! Stop it! Oh, I’m sorry, Cel,’ said Nelson breathlessly. ‘I didn’t mean to get angry, I just . . . I just want some more toast.’

  He didn’t wait for the timer to finish and instead ejected the toast and covered it in jam and peanut butter with all the urgency of someone whose life depended on toast.

  ‘OK, I think you just need to take things easy at the wedding today, Nelse. Here, have some tea,’ said Celeste, pulling out a chair for him.

  Nelson was still shaking when he sat down. Minty finally gave up the angry barking and collapsed back in her bed.

  ‘Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. Sorry. I do feel a bit weird.’ Nelson took a sip of tea. She’d added extra sugar, which was just what he needed. He heard the hiss of the shower running upstairs. This meant he had only ten more peaceful minutes before his mother appeared wrapped in towels and barking wedding-related orders. The need to sneeze came over him once again.

  ‘Honk!’

  Celeste laughed, thinking Nelson had made the noise as a joke. But he hadn’t. It had just burst out of him.

  ‘Well, I’ve got to be honest, your monsters were great and everything, but it’ll be nice for things to be normal again, don’t you think?’

  Nelson nodded, but neither of them had any clue that things were about to get as far from normal as they could possibly be.

  TINDLE’S UGLY ARMY

  A tremendous fire tore its way through the Museum of London. Alarm bells rang and water poured from ceiling-mounted fire extinguishers, but they were powerless against the great flames furiously turning priceless historical artefacts into ash. Jim Tindle’s pink and greedy monsters were responsible. Like Nosh, they had incinerated what they ate. The flames leaped from the holes in their head and within seconds the ceiling had caught on fire. Maybe if there had only been a few greedy monsters there would not have been so much damage, but now there were twenty-three of them.

  Let’s do the maths. If Jim Tindle had twenty-three Greed monsters, this meant he had performed twenty-three sin extractions, and if seven monsters were made each time, that meant he had created a grand total of 161 monsters.

  That is a lot of monsters.

  If it were not for the fire, Jim would have continued to plunge back into happy memories, but now he was forced to flee the building. He was drained of energy, he could barely walk, and the smoke from the fire had turned his sweaty skin black. The monster army lifted him and carried him above their heads like the star striker of a football team. When it seemed as if they had reached a dead end, twenty-three red and very angry monsters with horns twisting out of their heads smashed their great fists through the walls, and they all poured out of the museum to safety.

  A bus screeched to a halt as debris and smoke flew across the road. Sirens wailed in the distance as the emergency services headed towards the fire. The museum was closed today but tourists were always walking through this area, and now they were running as fast as they could away from the clouds of black smoke and falling ash. Everyone was too terrified to stop and look, or even film what was happening with their smartphones. They would not have seen the monsters, but they would have seen Jim floating about six feet above the ground, shirtless and blackened by smoke.

  ‘I need it! We have to go back for it!’ cried Jim suddenly. The monsters knew he was talking about the sin extractor.

  ‘HONK!’ wailed all of the Crush-like monsters in agreement. It was a deafening sound. Like a fleet of car ferries leaving port at once. In response to their honking command, the blue Miser-like monsters bowed, before running back into the burning building.

  Jim couldn’t help but laugh. Here he was, held aloft in the middle of the streets of London by his very own monster army. Though he craved the bliss of another happy memory, the power he now felt was divine.

  The slippery blue monsters reappeared from the burning museum carrying the sin extractor between them. One of the monsters was on fire and collapsed in the road. A taxi drove straight into the wretched creature, and the driver ran from his car with no idea of what he had just hit.

  Jim was unable to take his eyes off the burning monster thrashing around in the street and sending the taxi flying into a wall. How quickly he had adjusted to having a monster army! Twenty-four hours ago this idea would have seemed incomprehensible to him, but now it felt perfectly normal. In fact, it felt like it was all meant to be.

  ‘Where should we go first?’ asked Jim.

  All of the monsters pointed north.

  ‘REVENGE!’ they roared, and once again Jim laughed at how exhilarating it was to be a leader. No one had ever seen the world from his point of view, and now an entire army of monsters felt exactly what he felt: a burning desire for revenge upon Nelson Green and the seven measly monsters who had ruined his life.

  THE WEDDING OF DOODY AND POGO

  They were only an hour into it, but already this was the greatest wedding party anyone had ever been to. It was the perfect combination of terrific music, wonderful food and drink, stunning location and, at the top of the list of essential ingredients, two lovely hosts. Doody and Pogo not only looked magnificent in their suits, but they radiated happiness. All the guests found themselves under Pogo and Doody’s happy spell a
nd were soon dancing with old friends in the crypt of St Paul’s Cathedral. Christmas parties, book launches, even awards ceremonies had been held in the crypt, but never had it been decorated as beautifully as it was now. There were flowers, and plants, and even little trees everywhere. And I mean everywhere. Pogo loved plants as much as his father had done, and the crypt felt like a tropical jungle rather than the resting place of Admiral Nelson.

  ‘Let’s get a picture of us all together!’ shouted Nelson’s mum, and a group quickly swarmed together in front of her: Doody, Pogo, Nelson’s dad, Celeste, Ivan and Nelson. ‘I wanna nice smile from you, Nelse, not that ruddy frown you’ve been wearing all day,’ she said with raised eyebrows, which meant this was not a discussion point.

  Nelson attempted a smile.

  ‘Here, take this of us all, will ya?’ said Nelson’s mum to the waiter serving drinks. He put down his tray and held her phone up to his eyeline.

  ‘Everyone say “Bees Gees”!’ shouted Doody.

  ‘Bees Gees!’ they all replied, and the waiter took the photo. Everyone rushed to see how it looked.

  ‘Oh, that’s the best photo ever!’ squealed Nelson’s mum. ‘I mean, Nelse looks a bit washed out, but look at us all! Ha ha! This is going on the wall at home.’

  Nelson only had a second to glance at the photo before his mum put the phone away, but it was enough time to see she was right. He did look washed out. It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy being at the wedding; he just felt so strange today. Even when he had been summoned to present the wedding rings, Nelson had felt a burning desire to keep them in his pocket. Part of his brain was telling him to hand over the rings, while another wanted desperately to keep them. His hesitation was mistaken for nerves by Celeste, who helped him out. Once the rings were on his uncles’ fingers, Nelson had felt an uncontrollable surge of love towards Pogo and Doody and ran forward to embrace them both. Everyone had laughed and thought it was a delightful moment, but Nelson had quickly retreated, feeling ashamed. And now, looking at the photo of himself, he wished he looked better. Handsome like Ivan.