Creep Street (6 page)

uick, Mum,' you yell. You grab her by the arm and drag her with you. ‘Quick, run!'

She stumbles along with you. You haven't had time to look around, but you seem to be going down the drive of an old castle. It looms above you like a grey mountain peak. You've got a good start on Stacey and her mother but, as you come to the first bend in the road, you hear their feet pounding along behind you. They seem to be gaining already. You go around the bend, running as fast as you can, but suddenly you and your mum pull up with a screech of shoe-leather. You stop so fast there's smoke coming from your soles, and the smell of burning leather. The reason? Standing there on the road, in the middle of the road, right there in front of you, are two huge dogs. They're as big as small horses. They're panting with delight at the sight of you, and something tells you they're not vegetarians. They look like they've had teeth transplants from crocodiles. This is big trouble. These two dogs are about to leap at your throats and tear them out. ‘What are we going to do?' you and your mother scream simultaneously. Then, with the next breath, you both yell: ‘I know!'

You look at your mother and she looks at you. Whose idea are you going to go with? You'd better make a quick decision!

ou let Stacey go, and you walk down the driveway to the sheds. The sheds are pretty wrecked too but they're still twice the size of your previous house. They're covered in cobwebs: looks like no-one's been in there for twenty years. You clear away as many of the cobwebs as you can, but it's not easy. Heaps of them cling to you. But you push the old green door open and squeeze into the room.

Right away you see a terrifying sight. There's a human figure standing there, dressed in white lace and staring straight at you. You scream and turn to run. Then you realise you're looking at a mirror. Those cobwebs sure have stuck to your clothes. They're trailing behind you like a wedding dress.

You walk through to the next room. There's another mirror here, because you see yourself once again standing facing you, and draped in cobwebs. Then you notice something funny. The you that is looking at you seems a bit different. In the dim light you peer harder, trying to work out what it is. Then you realise. The person's got no skin. No skin and no flesh! Apart from that, no problem. Perfectly normal. Just no skin and no flesh, that's all. No skin! No flesh! That's not a mirror you're looking in! There's a skeleton right there, dressed in nothing but cobwebs! Oh no! This can't be happening! This is your worst nightmare, ever! This is worse than your worst nightmare. You've never actually had a nightmare this bad!

It's hard to move. You feel like you're Superglued to the floor. You wish you'd asked Stacey to come with you after all. You wish someone would come running to help you. But as you stand there, your heart racing, your legs paralysed, your eyes staring, you realise there's not much chance of help. Your parents are hard at work in the new house, Stacey could be anywhere in the street by now: it might be all up to you. You've never felt so totally alone in your whole life.

isten,' you say, ‘don't take this personally, but I don't trust you, OK? I think you're a stupid boring dickhead who wouldn't know a kangaroo from a kookaburra. But don't take it personally.'

‘That's cool,' she says. ‘And look, I don't want to offend you, but I think you're a pathetic useless heap of possum poo. But please don't be offended.'

Now that you understand each other you decide you're going to be good friends.

‘So what is it about this car?' you ask.

‘Well,' she says. ‘Do you believe in ghosts?'

‘I don't know,' you say. ‘I think I do.'

‘Well,' she says, ‘this car is haunted.'

‘The car is haunted! What are you talking about?'

‘It was used in an old Elvis Presley movie.'

‘So? That doesn't mean it's haunted.'

‘Get in,' she says.

Reluctantly, wondering if you're doing the right thing and fairly sure you're not, you get in the car. Stacey gets in after you.

‘I don't think this is what Mum meant when she said to go and play,' you say.

‘Shhhh,' she says. ‘You have to concentrate. Hold my hand and watch the speedo.'

Watch the speedo! This girl is definitely crazy. But you don't want to upset her in case she becomes a complete maniac. So you grab her hand and stare straight at the speedo.

And gradually something strange does start to happen. The car seems to be filling with a pink glow, a soft pink cloud. It starts shaking slightly, and the needle in the speedo is quivering. You hold Stacey's hand a little tighter. ‘What's happening?' you ask, but she doesn't answer. Now the car is definitely rocking from side to side. You're getting scared but what can you do? To your shock the little overhead light suddenly comes on but, before you can react, the radio comes on as well. You could swear Stacey didn't touch it, and you know you didn't, but it's definitely working. It's playing a song, pretty loud . . .

As the song plays, you feel that there's someone else in the car. Someone really big. You peep over your shoulder into the back seat and, to your amazement, there is someone gradually taking shape! He's tall and fat and he's dressed in a pink jumpsuit. He's holding something and, yes, it's a microphone. And he's singing into it. The song that you thought was coming from the radio is coming from him! Wow, is this ever weird! And what's really weird is that this guy looks familiar. Who could he be? Those sideburns, those dark glasses, that deep crooning voice. Could it be . . . is it possible . . . yes it is! It's HIM!

You're weak with fear and excitement, but you know it's time to make a decision. What are you going to do? Stay in this amazing car, or save your bacon by getting out of there? You look at Stacey but she's really lost. Her eyes are shut and she's singing along with ‘Are You Lonesome Tonight'. Seems like she's heavily into Elvis. It doesn't look like she'll be much help to you.

ou start digging. It's slow work. The days and nights merge, and before long you can't tell which is which. After six months the spoon's worn down to a centimetre of rusty metal. You throw it away. From now on you use your hands. At first you get a lot of blisters but gradually your hands toughen up.

It's not all bad news though. The worms are really tasty, and occasionally you score an extra treat, like a cricket or a millipede. And at least with the millipedes you get lots of drumsticks.

Water's not a problem. There's so much of it dripping through the walls of your tunnel that you can lick it up as you go.

You know you're getting older. You see your skin start to get wrinkly and as the time passes your hair goes grey.

But you quite enjoy it, in a funny sort of way. There's something strangely satisfying about it. It's very quiet down here and very peaceful. You even forget why you're digging. The memory of the monster fades from your brain. You just keep digging, slowly and patiently.

You have faith that one day you'll get somewhere.

Then comes the moment when you realise you're about to break through. You dig out another handful of dirt and suddenly see a glint of light in the distance. You dig faster and faster, getting wildly excited as your long quest seems at last to be coming to an end. One more poke with your index finger and the whole wall of dirt falls away. You stick your head through the hole and look eagerly at the view. The bright light hurts your eyes but gradually you get used to it. There's a lot of water. You seem to be on the edge of a harbour. There's ferries everywhere. And what's that in the distance? A big lady holding a torch? Or to be more accurate, a statue of a big lady holding a torch? Oh no. Surely not. No, it can't be! Just to make sure, you ask a teenager who's walking past.

‘Excuse me,' you say politely. ‘Could you please tell me what that thing is?'

‘Hey?' he asks. ‘You serious? You must be kidding. Even an old-timer like you knows what that is. That's the Statue of Liberty.'

‘Hmm,' you think. ‘Wonder if I can sell my story to “60 Minutes”.'