My Teacher Ate My Brain (3 page)
Read My Teacher Ate My Brain Online
Authors: Tommy Donbavand
When I was 12 years old, my dad took our family to a campsite off the west coast of Wales called Shell Island. We set up the tent, played football, had a barbecue, then got ready for bed.
I always read before going to sleep. A friend at school had lent me a book to take on holiday —
Night of the Crabs
by Guy N. Smith. I’d never read a horror novel before so I was quite excited as I switched on my torch and started Chapter 1.
I read the entire book that night. It had quite an effect on me.
You see,
Night of the Crabs
is about giant crabs that crawl out of the sea and eat people. Scary, huh?
Even scarier — it’s about giant crabs that crawl out of the sea and eat people who are camping, just like me and my family.
I’ll be more specific —
Night of the Crabs
is about giant crabs that crawl out of the sea and eat people who are camping ON SHELL ISLAND! The exact place where I was lying, helpless, in a sleeping bag, reading the book!
I’ve never been so scared in my life, and I refused to go down to the beach with my family the following day in case I was devoured by creepy crabs! But the story stuck with me, and it resulted in me going on to read other horror books and, eventually, to writing them.
That’s why this book is set on Shell Island, and why it’s dedicated to Guy N. Smith — the author of
Night of the Crabs
. The man who started it all…
Tommy Donbavand, August 2012
Get in touch with Tommy
through his website.
Trev’s sister is dead.
Trev’s mum is dead, and his dad.
The authorities think he did it.
They won’t believe him — that it was the house that took them.
They won’t believe him until it’s too late and there is only…
Blood red.
Torn flesh.
Red blood.
Buy online at
www.franklinwatts.co.uk
978 1 4451 1467 5 paperback
978 1 4451 1470 5 eBook
It was a motorcycle helmet that looked like it had barely survived a road accident.
Trev stared at his reflection in the mirrored visor. His eyes were black pools, empty, cold. Hunter’s eyes.
“You were wearing it when they found you,” said the doctor. “What about this?”
Trev had seen the photograph a thousand times: a normal hallway in a normal detached house in a normal part of the city. Except that this hallway looked like an abattoir. Something alive had been torn apart in that place, ripped limb from limb. Hadn’t stood a chance.
“What happened to your family in this house, Trevor?”
Don’t make me remember…
“Who did this?”
Not who, what…
“Was it you?”
Trev was off the bed in a beat. Like a tiger dragging its kill to the ground, he slammed the doctor onto the floor, winding him, knocking the helmet to skitter across the floor.
“They were my parents! My kid sister!” Trev spat, loud and desperate.
The gorillas yanked Trev away to restrain him.
“It was the bloody house!” he screamed, his skin burning against the rough hands holding him. “It took them! Why won’t you believe me?”
Trev was crying now, with the pain of being held, the pain of the memory, the pain of knowing no one would ever believe him that the house had come alive. That it hadn’t been a house at all, just something waiting for the right moment to spring the trap. A beast hungry for blood.
The pinprick in the side of his neck came as no surprise.
The room melted to darkness.
