by Guy Bass
“Great thunder, how much longer?” said Dotty in a loud whisper, peering through the skylight to the darkening sky. “We’ve been here for hours! Time is running out … I need this new monster almost-alive and kicking!”
“He’s – he’s getting close … mad science takes time,” Stitch Head replied. While he was happy to see his master so immersed in his work, this new creation looked like nothing but trouble. He watched as the professor poured a few drops of a bright red liquid into one of the new creation’s feeding tubes. “Beast Yeast,” he muttered. “The professor’s mixed up another batch!”
Stitch Head patted his potion bag and hoped that his recently mixed bottle of Least Beast potion would counteract its effects.
“Imagine if we all took a swig of that stuff – that poxy Venture Club wouldn’t stand a chance against us,” said Arabella.
“But I’m a PACIFIST,” the Creature said. “I prefer to influence CHANGE through non-violent PROTEST, or an amusing LIMERICK.”
“I will take terrible beast potion to save castle!” volunteered Ivo. “Perhaps I will grow bigger and bigger and bigger, until I am size of very small child.”
“We can’t,” said Stitch Head, so firmly that he immediately blushed a deep grey. “That potion has caused enough trouble already. It’s bad enough this new creation is going to be—”
“Monstrous!” interrupted Dotty, excitedly drawing her pistol. “Fear not, my patched-up pal, you don’t need to worry about potions and cures. The moment this new horror awakens, I shall tranquilize it to the eyeballs, pop it in the cage and off we go. I win my bet … and Grotteskew is safe from the Venture Club.”
“So if Stitch Head does not cure this creation it will mean we are saving other creations?” asked Ivo. “And whole castle?”
“I DON’T see a DOWN side,” said the Creature happily. “Although it’s HARD to see BOTH sides of ANYTHING when you only have ONE eye.”
CREAK…
“The down side is that the creation doesn’t deserve to be put in a cage,” said Stitch Head, as Dotty took aim. “It hasn’t done anything!”
“Not yet, it ain’t,” said Arabella.
Stitch Head turned to her. “Arabella…?” he began.
“Look, Stitch Head,” she continued, adjusting her hat. “In no time, that thing down there is going to be a full-blown, rampaging, mad-eyed monster. Maybe this once you could just leave it like the prof meant it to be. Maybe this once you could just let a monster be a monster.”
CREEEEAK…
“But…” began Stitch Head … then he sighed. It seemed everyone thought Dotty’s plan was the best solution. What other choice was there? If Dotty returned to the Venture Club empty-handed, everything would be lost – the castle, the creations, even the professor.
“Live!” cried Professor Erasmus on cue. He approached a bank of machinery covered with levers and switches, which sparked and crackled with energy. “AhahahA! Live!”
Stitch Head instinctively grabbed his bottle of Least Beast from his bag, as Professor Erasmus reached for the levers. He saw Dotty Dauntless take aim…
“Wait,” began Stitch Head. “Don’t—”
CREEEEEEEEE-AK!
“’Ere,” said Arabella, the sound of straining, splintering wood filling the air. “Anybody else hear that?”
A second later, the beam upon which they were sitting gave way … and the amazed assortment of creations and humans plummeted, screaming, toward the ground.
“MasteaaaAAH!”
Even as he plummeted toward the ground, Stitch Head’s first thought was of Professor Erasmus. He landed on top of his master’s new creation, before ricocheting off a nearby wall and crashing with a DUD-UD! on to the unforgiving stone floor.
“M-master…!” Stitch Head gasped again, struggling to his feet. He looked around and saw everyone splayed on the ground. He quickly accounted for Arabella, Ivo, the Creature, Dotty Dauntless and F. Darkenfire – and even spotted Pox flapping and fretting overhead. But where was Professor Erasmus?
“My HEAD…” groaned the Creature, rubbing its great, hairy crown as it sat up, “…Is totally FINE! Just ONE of the BENEFITS of having a skull that’s NINETY-TWO percent solid BONE.”
“Mmmff!”
“My BOTTOM is making a strange NOISE though,” the Creature added, looking down. “Maybe I SHOOK something LOOSE down there…”
“Mmmff!” said the Creature’s bottom again.
“Creature, get up!” cried Stitch Head, racing over as it scrambled to its feet.
Splayed out on the floor where the Creature had landed was Professor Erasmus.
“Master!” Stitch Head shrieked, cradling his master’s head in his tiny, mismatched hands. Professor Erasmus lay still.
“Professor Erasmus!” cried Darkenfire, as everyone gathered round. “His ’e all right?”
“He must be! He still has a monster to awaken!” added a desperate Dotty Dauntless.
“CURSE my WELL-developed PHYSIQUE!” boomed the Creature. “If ONLY I hadn’t spent SO long TONING up my RUMP, it might have BEEN more SQUISHY…”
Stitch Head held his master for a long, silent moment. Then, at last, a wheezing hiss of air escaped slowly from the professor’s mouth and he began to stir.
“Master! Master, are you all right?” Stitch Head cried. “Speak to me, Master!”
“I – I…” Professor Erasmus gasped, his eyes slowly opening. “I … remember you.”
“Y-you do?” stuttered Stitch Head. He dreamed of these moments! He could count the number of times his master had looked at him with even vague recognition on one hand. A cautious smile crept across his face.
“Yes, Master. It’s me,” he said. “It’s Stitch Head.”
“Not … you!” the professor wheezed. He struggled to raise an arm and pointed a bony finger, waggling it weakly. “You!”
“Who, ME?” said the Creature.
“Or me?” suggested Dotty Dauntless.
“It ain’t me … I don’t think,” said Arabella.
“Is it I?” said Ivo.
“YaBBit?” said Pox.
“No, no, no…!” the professor groaned, jabbing his finger at the air. “Him!”
Everyone turned.
The professor was pointing at F. Darkenfire.
“I … remember … you…” the professor wheezed one last time, before Stitch Head felt his master’s head grow heavy in his hands as he slipped into unconsciousness.
“Master … you’ll be all right,” he whispered. Then he turned to face Darkenfire, his eyes narrowing. “What – what did he mean, he remembers you?”
“I – I dare say I ’aven’t a clue! I’ve never met ’im, not hin all my days!” said Darkenfire, nervously patting his beard.
“Is that so?” added Arabella. “How could the prof remember you if you ain’t never met?”
“And you knew about the castle,” said Stitch Head. “You told Dotty Dauntless about the creations…”
“AND you came here on an ELLY-PANT,” added the Creature, trying to join in. “Very SUSPICIOUS.”
“The professor’s mad! Why, hit’s in ’is job description!” protested Darkenfire, edging backwards. “They’re changing the subject, Miss Dotty! What about the monster? Your birthday happroaches!”
“Great thunder, you’re right! We need this monster alive and kicking!” Dotty boomed. “And roaring and snarling, if we can manage it.”
“There’s nothing we can do!” replied Stitch Head firmly, still cradling his master’s head. “The professor is in no fit state to do anything! Look at him!”
“Then we shall have to bring it to life ourselves!” said Dotty. She paced over to the great bank of levers and inspected them. “Now which one should I pull…?”
“No, don’t touch anything!” Stitch Head cried, leaping to his feet. “If you pull the wrong lever it’ll create a power surge! You could blow up the whole laboratory!”
“It’s worth the risk!” Dotty howled. She
lunged for the lever. “I need this monster … we need this monster!”
“He said no, you mucky rotten goat!” cried Arabella, as she, the Creature and Ivo leaped in between Dotty and the control panel, blocking her path. Arabella folded her arms. “This is Stitch Head’s castle, whatever some piece of paper says! And what he says goes!”
“Even if it means you lose the castle? Even if it means you lose everything?” asked Dotty in disbelief.
“That’s up to Stitch Head,” replied Arabella. “Apart from the prof, he’s the only one who knows which lever to pull.”
“He does?” said Dotty Dauntless, spinning around to face Stitch Head. “Then what are you waiting for? Pull it, little Scamp! Pull the lever!”
Stitch Head stared at the control panel. Arabella was right – all he had to do was pull the life-lever and the professor’s new creation would be awakened. Dotty would have her monster, and the castle would be safe from the Venture Club.
“Ain’t no one decides this but you, Stitch Head,” said Arabella, stepping aside.
“But whatever you are choosing, it is OK with us,” added Ivo.
“We’ll STICK by you,” added the Creature. “Like when I accidentally GLUED myself to you that time.”
“I…” Stitch Head began. It barely felt like a choice at all. How could he not bring this creation to almost-life, if doing so meant saving the castle? How could he lose everything for the sake of one creation, which wasn’t even almost-alive yet and was likely to try and savage him the minute it was awakened?
He walked slowly over to the control panel as the others stood aside. For the longest time, he peered at the life-lever. Then he reached out a tiny hand toward it.
He paused.
“I – I’m sorry,” he said. “I can’t.”
Stitch Head slumped to the floor.
“I – I know what it’s like to be locked away,” he said quietly. “If awakening that creation means it spends an almost-life in a cage, I can’t do it. No one deserves that.”
Arabella, the Creature, and Ivo let out a collective sigh, while Dotty Dauntless placed a hand on Stitch Head’s shoulder.
“I believe I have failed to appreciate how very human you creations are,” she said. “But, great thunder, what a pickle. We’re more pickled than the Pickle Picking People of Preservia … and I can’t help but feel partially responsible.”
Stitch Head looked up at Dotty Dauntless, a tear in his eye.
“All right … totally responsible,” Dotty added with a sigh.
“I’m sorry, too,” said Stitch Head. He put his head in his hands. “What are we going to do? Where are we going to go? This castle is all my master has ever known. The only time he’s ever left is when he was kidnapped by … by… Oh no.”
A flash of realization suddenly burned in Stitch Head’s eyes. He glanced over to where the professor lay … except he wasn’t there. He was gone.
And so was F. Darkenfire.
“No, no, no! Why didn’t I see it before?” cried Stitch Head, his eyes wide in horror. He looked up and saw the door to the laboratory swinging on its hinges. “He’s taken him! Master!”
“What is happening or has happened, Stitch Head?” asked Ivo.
“And where is my hirsute helper?” said Dotty, looking around. “Darkenfire? Darkenfire!”
“He took him! He took the professor!” Stitch Head cried in desperation. “We have to find them, now!”
“Great thunder, I’m confused,” confessed Dotty Dauntless. “But finding is something I can most certainly do. Darkenfire has always carried the most distinct smell of greasepaint.” She took a long sniff of air and added, “Got him! Follow me!”
Everyone hurried after Dotty as she followed her remarkable nose through the castle and up the spiralling stairs, all the way to the top of the castle.
“I’ve been such an idiot!” muttered Stitch Head, trying to keep up. “All this time, it’s been staring me in the face!”
“WHAT has?” asked the Creature from behind him. “Your REFLECTION?”
“How else could he know so much about the castle – unless he’d already been inside,” Stitch Head continued. “And Dotty was his way back in!”
“Whose way back in where?” asked Arabella. “What are you on about, Stitch Head?”
As they raced out on to the ramparts, Stitch Head’s dread turned to abject terror. The rumble of engines and the whirr of motors filled the air. Through the encroaching gloom, he saw Dotty Dauntless’s flying machine at the other end of the ramparts. And busily loading the unconscious professor into the flying machine’s cockpit, was F. Darkenfire.
“What is Darkenfire doing with the professor?” asked Ivo.
“That’s not Darkenfire… There is no Darkenfire!” cried Stitch Head. “‘F. Darkenfire’ spells Freakfinder!”
“Lugs and mumbles, I’m found out! But you’re too late!” howled Darkenfire, spinning around. He grabbed hold of his hat and great white beard and threw them off to reveal a gleaming bald head and long, twirling moustache.
“Great thunder, he’s as bald as a baboon’s bottom!” cried Dotty.
“That’s Fulbert blinkin’ Freakfinder! He’s been after the professor for ages – wants him to make monsters for his cruddy carnival!” roared Arabella. “Freakfinder, you no-good, scheming bog-head! Give us back the prof or I’ll kick your nose off!”
“You ain’t getting him, and you ain’t getting me!” cried Freakfinder, clambering into the flying machine and strapping himself in.
“Stop!” shouted Stitch Head, racing toward the flying machine as its wings began to beat.
“I told you, you little snot!” laughed Freakfinder. “I told you I’d get the professor in the end!”
“No!” Stitch Head cried, as the flying machine took to the air and cleared the castle. Without stopping to think, he ran toward the edge of the wall … and jumped off the top of the ramparts.
Stitch Head heard Arabella cry his name as he leaped from the castle walls. He reached out a tiny hand for the flying machine’s landing wheel.
“Urf!” he cried, grabbing hold. He glanced down and saw the hill, far below him and shrinking as the flying machine soared upwards.
“Lugs and mumbles, this ain’t a taxi cab! Get off!” hissed Freakfinder from the cockpit. He swiped at Stitch Head with a stubby arm, but he was out of reach.
“G-give me back the professor!” said Stitch Head, although he had no idea what he would do with him if Freakfinder obliged.
“Fat chance! Do you know how much plannin’ and plottin’ I’ve put into this?” snarled Freakfinder. “For months I’ve been down on my luck, trying to fathom a way back into the castle, to get my mitts on your monster-makin’ master! I’d all but given up hope – then I heard tell of Dotty Dauntless, an eccentric explorer with more money than sense and monsters on her mind…”
“S-stop…!” Stitch Head pleaded, unable to do anything but cling on for almost-life.
“I wasted no time in trackin’ her down … I knew from that moment, Dotty Dauntless was my key back into Castle Grotteskew,” Freakfinder continued. “Once I promised her monsters, she couldn’t get to the castle quick enough! All I needed was a simple disguise to fool you and your snot friends when I got ’ere…”
Stitch Head looked down and saw they were already soaring over Grubbers Nubbin. With every ounce of his strength, he began pulling himself toward the cockpit.
“Figured I’d just find the professor quick sharp and make my escape with him on this flyin’ machine,” Freakfinder went on, bellowing his monologue against the loud hum of the engines. “But between that bothersome bag and your bloomin’ bet I never got a chance … not ’til we literally fell on the professor’s head!”
“I’ll … s-save you … Professor…” muttered Stitch Head, edging closer to Freakfinder.
“Now your master is going to make me all the freaks I need for my Carnival of Unnatural Wonders!” Freakfinder laughed. “And you ain�
�t going to cure them! They’re goin’ to be real monsters … and they’re goin’ to make me rich!”
“No!” Stitch Head cried, grabbing the controls. The flying machine lurched and dived toward the ground.
“Lugs and mumbles! You don’t know when to throw in the towel! Off, I said!” growled Freakfinder. He grabbed Stitch Head by the scruff of his neck and flung him on to the nose of the flying machine. Stitch Head skittered along it, just managing to grab hold of the front of the machine before he plummeted to the ground. He held on desperately, his legs dangling in the air.
“I’ll grind you into dust and stitches! Death by Chuggers Nubbin!” Freakfinder cried with a grin, aiming the flying machine at the buildings below.
Stitch Head looked down and saw the roofs of houses rushing up to meet him.
“Uh-oh,” he whispered. “No.”
Stitch Head tucked in his knees and heard a
as the front wheels scraped along one of the roofs, which disintegrated in a mass of wood and slate. Stitch Head scrabbled back up the nose, shattered roof tiles flying past his face. As Freakfinder banked back up into the air, Stitch Head managed to grab hold of one of the wires connecting the cockpit to the balloon.
“Little snot! I’ll shake you off!” shrieked Freakfinder. He dragged the controls to the left and the flying machine pitched again, flinging Stitch Head backwards and forwards like a rag doll. He felt his grip on the wire weaken.
“S-s-stop…” he whimpered, as he heard the clink-clink of the potions in his bag.
The potions!
He looked up and saw the taut, egg-shaped balloon above him. As he held on tightly with one hand, he reached the other into his bag, pulled out the bottle of Least Beast and held it by the neck. Then he smashed it against the side of the cockpit. It shattered with a TISSH! and the potion spilled into the air.
