by Guy Bass
“Oi! What are you doin’?” snapped Freakfinder, his eyes on the skies. Stitch Head did not answer. As he felt his fingers slip, he looked up at what remained of the jagged, broken bottle … and thrust it into the balloon.
The balloon gushed air and seemed to shrivel and shrink in an instant. The flying machine listed in the air before dropping like a stone.
“Mad thing! We’re going down!” howled Freakfinder, wrestling with the controls and desperately trying to slow their descent as the machine spun in the air. Stitch Head felt his stomach lurch and wrench.
He saw the professor, still unconscious in the passenger seat, and began to drag himself slowly toward the front of the flying machine. As he reached out for his master, he saw tops of trees and then ground.
“Lugs and—!”
The flying machine drove into the ground, churning up great sods of earth before colliding with a tree. Finally, it skidded to a clumsy halt.
“Master…?” whimpered Stitch Head, his head spinning. He’d been thrown clear of the flying machine. Debris from the crash was strewn across the ground, and what remained of the machine lay crumpled and upturned in a field of tall grass just outside Grubbers Nubbin. As Stitch Head dragged himself to his feet, he saw a figure pull itself out of the wreckage.
“M-master?” he groaned.
“No, it’s not, little snot!” came the reply. It was Freakfinder. He eyeballed Stitch Head. “You’ve been nothing but trouble since I first set my unfortunate eyes on you! Why can’t you just leave me to pilfer your professor in peace?”
“Won’t … let you…” muttered Stitch Head, limping weakly toward the wreckage of the flying machine. “Master…”
“You patchwork pest, I’m goin’ to put an end to your insistent interferin’ once and for all,” Freakfinder hissed. He retrieved a metal bar from the ground, which moments ago had made up part of the flying machine’s frame. He paced toward Stitch Head, slapping the bar repeatedly against his palm. “And don’t worry, I’ll take good care of your master – at least until he’s served his purpose.”
“No…!” Stitch Head yelled. He ran at Freakfinder, but with a swing of the metal bar Freakfinder scooped up Stitch Head’s legs and sent him crashing face first into the ground.
“Give my regards to the afterlife,” Freakfinder said, raising the bar high over his head. “If that’s where freaks like you end up…”
“Oi, Freakfinder!”
Freakfinder turned.
There was an elephant charging toward him.
“Aaargh!” Freakfinder screeched as Timbo reared up in front of him, trumpeting wildly. He didn’t notice the passengers riding on the elephant’s back – Arabella (still wearing her safari hat and looking for all the world like a young Dotty Dauntless), the Creature, Ivo and Dotty herself – all he saw was the elephant’s mighty trunk as it swung toward his face. A moment later Freakfinder found himself flying through the air.
“YuRF!” he cried, bouncing with a PLUD-UD! off the trunk of a nearby tree.
“Great thunder, Darkenfire – or whomever, in truth, you may be,” said Dotty Dauntless, as she and Arabella leaped down from the elephant. “What’s the meaning of this nefarious, albeit decidedly adventurous, behaviour?”
“You mad old bag!” Freakfinder wheezed, scrabbling to his feet. “You served your purpose when you got me into the castle. Now back off! You ain’t taking me without a fight!”
“There’s NO need for FIGHTING,” insisted the Creature. “I’ve written a TOUCHING and HILARIOUS poem that should put ALL of this into PERSPECTIVE…”
“Stinkin’ pig-face!” snarled Arabella, rolling up her sleeves. “I’m gonna kick you so hard your socks come off!”
“Back, the lot of you!” Freakfinder snapped. “Back, or else I take a swig of this.”
He reached into his pocket and took out a small red bottle, brandishing it like a weapon.
Everyone froze.
“Beast Yeast … he must have taken it from the laboratory,” whispered Stitch Head. “P-please, don’t drink it!”
“He ain’t got the guts!” shouted Arabella. “I should shove that whole bottle down your neck, save you the trouble of drinking it!”
“Trouble?” sneered Freakfinder. A maniacal grin spread across his face as he popped the cork from the top of the bottle. “Lugs and mumbles, I’ll show you trouble.”
“Don’t—!” yelled Stitch Head again.
But he did. Freakfinder poured the liquid down his throat in one glug.
“AuuuurrUUUuUAUAAAGH!” he cried, falling to his knees. All at once, the crunch of shifting bones and the taut creak of stretching muscles filled the night air. Freakfinder doubled in size and doubled again, hair and bones exploding from his body. In moments, he had changed – suddenly, violently – into a monster.
Freakfinder reared up, his mad roar filling the air. He was covered in black-and-white striped fur, his eyes glowed red and curled horns protruded from his head. His huge mouth was a mass of sharp teeth, framed by an altogether monstrous moustache.
In that moment even the mighty Timbo was paralyzed with fear. Stitch Head instinctively reached into his potion bag, but he had shattered his bottle of Least Beast to burst the flying machine’s balloon. He looked up as Freakfinder loomed over them, baring jagged teeth.
“Everyone, RUN!” cried Stitch Head.
“Where’s the adventure in that?” said Dotty Dauntless with a grin.
With that, she drew her pistol and took aim.
By the time Dotty Dauntless had emptied a dozen tranquilizer darts into the Freakfinder-monster, he looked rather like a particularly savage pincushion.
Freakfinder swayed for a moment, before his red eyes rolled back into his head, and he fell, face first, to the ground.
“Did you see that? It cost me every dart I had to floor him!” cried Dotty Dauntless with glee. “What a beast! What a behemoth! What a monster!”
“Nice shooting!” said an impressed Arabella. “But I still think you should’ve let me kick his socks off.”
“VIOLENCE solves NOTHING,” explained the Creature. “EXCEPT in this instance.”
“Everyone is all right?” asked Ivo. “Where is professor?”
“Professor!” cried Stitch Head, racing over to the upturned flying machine. With a nod from Dotty Dauntless, Timbo strode over to the machine, wrapped its trunk around the cockpit and effortlessly turned it over. The professor’s unconscious body flopped out and on to the ground.
“Master!” cried Stitch Head. “Talk to me, Master!”
A long moment passed … but the professor lay still.
“He is … he is not all right?” whimpered Ivo. Then a dry wheeze escaped from the professor’s mouth, and his eyes slowly began to open. Professor Erasmus peered at his first creation.
“You…” he said, staring deep into Stitch Head’s wide, teary eyes. “Do I know you?”
Stitch Head breathed a long sigh of relief, and turned back to his friends.
“He’s all right,” he said with a smile.
Dotty Dauntless’s faithful elephant carried everyone back to the castle, and dragged the sleeping Freakfinder-monster by the tail with its mighty trunk. The sky was dark by the time they made their way through the Great Door into the courtyard … and Professor Erasmus was feeling altogether more himself.
“Bah! All these interruptions are intolerable!” he howled, as Timbo raised a leg to help them climb down. “I must get back to my experiments! I have a creation on the boil! Surely my greatest creation ever! Ah-ha-ha-HAA!”
Stitch Head watched his master hurry back to his laboratory, and then climbed down from Timbo’s back.
“I suppose I’d better fetch another couple of bottles of Least Beast from the dungeon,” he said. “One for his new creation, and one for Fulbert Freakfinder.”
“And THEN we’d better start LOOKING for a new HOME,” said the Creature. “I’d like somewhere with a ROCKERY…”
“Now h
ang on a minute,” said Arabella. “Like you said, Stitch Head, caging a creation ain’t right. But Freakfinder ain’t no creation.”
“Great thunder, you angel of unkemptness! You’re correct!” declared Dotty, pointing at the sleeping Freakfinder. “This is exactly the sort of savage, uncontrollable monster I need to win my bet! And what poetic justice for the deceitful fiend!”
“But … we can’t just leave him like this! We can’t just leave him as a monster,” said Stitch Head. “Can we?”
Arabella folded her arms and raised an eyebrow. “If it means saving the castle, the creations and that mad old lizard you call a master,” she replied with a grin. “You bet your ice-blue eye we can.”
The stars filled the night sky once more. Arabella had been watching Dotty Dauntless and Timbo load and secure the Freakfinder-monster into his cage for half an hour, ready for transportation to the Venture Club.
“Great thunder, the boys at the club will spit out their port when they set eyes upon my monster!” Dotty boomed, admiring it. “Though I do wonder where I shall keep him…”
“Uh, about that…” said Stitch Head, limping into the courtyard with the Creature and Ivo behind. All three had new cuts and bruises from administering a healthy dose of Least Beast to the professor’s latest creation.
“Blimey, you lot look worse for wear,” said Arabella, stroking a purring Pox. “How’s the new monster?”
“He’s GREAT! Now he’s NOT trying to EAT us,” said the Creature. “His name is ARCHIBALD. He likes WATERCOLOUR paintings and CROSSWORD puzzles.”
“And we didn’t even use all of this,” Stitch Head said, taking a small red bottle out of his bag and handing it to Dotty. Upon it were the words:
“A cure? After all the trouble he caused you?” Dotty said, inspecting the bottle.
“I know, but…” Stitch Head began. “No one deserves to spend their life in a cage.”
“What a good pup you are, little Sca—Stitch Head,” said Dotty, dropping the bottle into her pocket. “I’m sorry I brought you quite so much trouble.”
“So, when are you leaving?” asked Arabella, giving the wheels of Dotty’s wagon a gentle kick. “Back to the big, wide world…”
“As soon as I finish adding a few more locks, and polish the bars up just so,” Dotty replied. She peered at Arabella for a moment. “You know, I find myself without an assistant, and I could use someone with your spirit, moppet. Tell me, have you ever gazed at the stars and dreamed of excitement?”
“What, stargazing? I’m an expert,” replied Arabella proudly. She pointed at the constellations. “See there? That’s the Damp Sock, over there’s the Dry Bogie, and that there’s the Washing-Up Bowl…”
“Great thunder, what an imagination!” laughed Dotty Dauntless. “But look there! Can’t you see the Massive Monster of Moaroar? The Beast of Bignosia? The Big-Booted, Four-Footed Behemoth? So many monsters yet to discover!”
“You see monsters?” said Arabella, peering into the sky. “I’d almost forgot they was up there…”
“Why, the stars are filled with monsters – among other things!” replied Dotty. “There’s also the Jungle of Ancient Secrets … the Temple of Hidden Futures … the Cave of Undiscovered Knowledge. Life is a wide and wonderful adventure, Arabella, and it’s waiting for whomsoever is brave enough to step out into the unknown … and hopefully find a monster or two in the bargain. Great thunder, the world is a gift, and if you are lucky enough to live in it, then you must grab it with both hands!”
“This is easy for you to say,” said Ivo, staring at his single arm.
“It DOESN’T sound as much FUN as Let’s Pretend We’re Monsters ANYWAY,” added the Creature loudly.
“So, what do you say, Arabella?” Dotty added. “All I can guarantee is awe-inspiring exploration and non-stop adventuring! Would you care to join me?”
Arabella suddenly fell quiet. Stitch Head hadn’t seen her like that since the time she had her spirit stolen by a soul-sucking spider-monster. It was more than a little unnerving. Then, finally, she took off her safari hat and handed it back to Dotty Dauntless.
“Nah,” she said. “That life ain’t for me.”
Stitch Head wasn’t at all sure that she meant it. He felt like something had changed.
“I respect your decision!” Dotty cried, placing the hat on her own head. Then she handed Arabella back her key. “Perhaps one day we shall meet again!”
“Yeah…” replied Arabella, just loud enough for Stitch Head to hear. “Maybe.”
It was Arabella who opened the Great Door for Dotty Dauntless. She looked distant and strange as she watched the explorer guide her elephant-drawn wagon through the doorway.
“Farewell, one and all!” Dotty boomed. She climbed on to Timbo’s back and they began tramping down the hill. “Look after my castle for me!”
Stitch Head sidled over to Arabella, as she looked up at the stars.
“I-I never really noticed the stars before I met you,” he said. “Now I don’t think I’ll ever look at them in the same way again. Maybe – maybe once you’ve seen something differently, you can’t see what you used to see.”
“I s’pose,” she said, peering at Stitch Head. “’Ere, what are you blatherin’ on about, anyway?”
Stitch Head wasn’t sure if he could say what he was about to say, but then he heard the words leave his mouth.
“Do – do you want to go with Dotty Dauntless?”
Arabella turned to Stitch Head. She ruffled her hair and stared at him, a lost look in her eyes.
“I hadn’t even thought about it until she asked me,” she said at last. “Now I can’t think of nothing else.”
“Oh…” Stitch Head said quietly. He took a deep breath. “Because I belong here, Arabella – I was made to be here … but you weren’t made. You were born into the big, wide world. And like Dotty says, it’s yours for the taking.”
“I ain’t hardly been nowhere but Grubbers Nubbin,” she said. “Then after my ol’ nan went and died, you gave me somewhere to call home again. I ain’t never going to forget that.”
“I know. And wherever you go, you’ll always have a home here,” said Stitch Head, wiping a tear from his eye. “And – and you’ll always be my best friend.”
Arabella sniffed. Then she handed Pox to him. The monkey-bat immediately started to growl and snap at Stitch Head’s fingers. Dotty’s wagon was already making its way down the hill.
Arabella leaped to her feet.
“Oi, Dotty, wait!” she cried – and raced after her.
Stitch Head made his way to the Great Door as it creaked on its hinges, and watched Arabella run full-pelt after Dotty’s wagon. Before long he lost sight of her in the darkness. Tears welled in his eyes. He waited a few moments more. Then he pushed the door closed, took out his key and locked it.
“Has DOTTY gone ALREADY?” said the Creature. “I was going to ASK if she wanted to PLAY our new GAME, Let’s Pretend We’re EXPLORDERS!”
“I am best at this game,” said Ivo from the Creature’s jacket. “I have explored all Creature’s pockets already. I found twig and ball of lint!”
“She’s … she’s gone,” replied Stitch Head.
“YaBBit!” barked Pox, snapping at the Creature’s ankles.
“OH well,” said the Creature. “MAYBE Dotty will be BACK one day. No ONE can stay AWAY from here for LONG. Look at FERBERT FREAKENFIRE – he LOVES it here…”
“I – I don’t mean Dotty,” said Stitch Head. “She – she’s gone … the big, wide world … it’s hers for the taking…”
“Hers? Hers whose?” asked Ivo. “What are you saying about, Stitch Head?”
“Arabella,” he replied, tears welling up in his eyes as he closed the door with a KRUNK. “She’s gone. She’s—”
CLUNK!
CLANK!
Stitch Head froze as he heard the key turn. A moment later the door began to open.
“Mucky rotten goats! What’s the big idea, shut
ting the door in my face?” said Arabella. She pushed open the door, key in hand, and strode through.
“YaBBit! SWaRTiKi!” yapped Pox. He flitted delightedly on to Arabella’s shoulder and began chewing her hair with glee.
“Arabella!” cried Stitch Head. “But I thought—”
“What? That I was going to run off with Dotty Dauntless?” she laughed. “I did think about it. But d’you know what? I like monsters and I like trouble … and I get both right here. This castle is where I belong, too.”
“But – but when you ran out of the door,” said Stitch Head with a sniff. “I was so sure you were…”
“You soppy sewn-up so-and-so … I went after Dotty for you,” said Arabella, giving him a friendly punch on the arm. Stitch Head wiped a tear from his eye … and noticed Arabella was in her stocking feet.
“What – what happened to your boots?” he asked.
“You know how Dotty can’t resist a wager?” she explained. “Well, I bet her there was nothing in the world she could offer me that would make me give up my kicking boots. But it turns out I was wrong … I lost the bet.”
Arabella pulled a crumpled piece of paper out of her pocket. It was the deeds to Castle Grotteskew.
“I don’t understand,” Stitch Head muttered. “Why – why do you have the deeds?”
“Dotty offered me the deeds in a straight swap for my boots,” she said with a wink. “To be honest, I reckon she knew I was playing her … I reckon she wanted to do the right thing.”
