It is an ancient tradition of my ancestors that when we go camping over the October long weekend (Oktoberfest), we tell ghost stories. We hole up in small tents, which has become progressively harder to do over the years since we keep growing and the tents invariably remain the same size, we arm ourselves with spooky torches and comforting chocolate, and get down to telling scary stories. Often the same ones every year, because we keep forgetting to learn new ones.
So I thought I would share one with you this fine evening. Obviously it won’t be as scary because it lacks the context of a secluded camping site, the pitch-darkness of midnight in the mountains, and about ten kids huddled together trying to freak each other out. Nonetheless, I hope you enjoy it.
*
One day there was a boy called Tommy. He was pretty cute, sporting a button nose and a generous splattering of freckles. He was pretty much every 10-year-old girl’s clichéd dream boy. (Ed’s note: I will now move on.)
So this one day (it shall be a Tuesday) he was walking home from school and storm clouds began to gather, and these clouds that were so dark and bruised that by the time he turned off the main road it seemed it was night. With the sun gone, a slight chill tinged the air like a Byron Bay t-shirt being slowly and carefully tie-dyed ice blue. The wind began to pick up; it swallowed all the leaves remaining on a stark skeletal tree and spat them out all over Tommy. He hastened his pace. A dark and stormy night was well and truly surrounding him.
Suddenly Tommy saw a strange man in front of him. The man was tall and crooked, and so skinny he appeared as if an insect grown too big for its natural habitat. His skin hung loosely over his bones, glowing ghostly in the half-darkness. His face was pinched and his eyes dark and sunk deep in their sockets. He was pretty much the epitome of a ghostly antagonist. But when he gestured to Tommy with a long, spidery finger, Tommy couldn’t help but approach him.
“What are you doing out this late on a Tuesday night, Tommy?” The man crooned, his finger rather awkwardly coming to a rest on Tommy’s adorable button nose. Tommy wrinkled it, his eyes also rather awkwardly crossed in order to see the tip of the knobbly finger. The Insect Man released a high-pitched laugh.
“It’s only four o’clock, sir,” Tommy replied.
“You’re a good boy, T0mmy.” The Insect Man’s rasping voice made Tommy’s skin crawl.
(Ed’s note: I’m well aware of how this sounds ... it’s not what you think, though!)
Then the Insect Man stepped to the side and revealed what his looming body had been hiding: a car boot ... full of books. He was a book seller. Tommy relaxed completely and began to go through the boot full of books. Straight away, there was one that caught his eye.
Ye Olde Booke of Witchcrafte and Magick
He picked it out and the Insect Man’s eyes widened.
“This ... this is the book you wish to purchase?” The Insect Man asked incredulously.
“Yes, please,” replied Tommy, not forgetting his manners.
“Well, seeing as you asked so nicely,” the Insect Man slowly passed it over. “That will be $10.”
Tommy paid up enthusiastically and turned to leave. But before he took a step the Insect Man’s cold, spindly fingers wrapped around his arm.
“But you must promise to never, ever read the last page,” he hissed in Tommy’s ear. Before Tommy could even open his mouth to ask his next question, the Insect Man had answered it for him; “If you do, terrible things will happen!”
At that horrifyingly vague warning, Tommy pulled away from the Insect Man and began sprinting home. But as he turned to look over his shoulder he saw that the car and the man had completely disappeared, almost as if he had driven away.
Anyhoo, that night Tommy lay in bed reading his book of Witchcrafte etc. It was actually pretty hard to read with all the superfluous ‘E’s. But as he continued reading he couldn’t help the longing to peer at the last page. And whilst the rain poured outside and the lightning thundered and the author of this story kept using “but” and “and” to start her sentences, Tommy snuck a look at the back page ... and gasped in horror.
It read:
RRP: $5.95
Thuh End.
Can't take credit for that story, but I forget who told me it. I elaborated a lot though, because that's the sort of annoying person I am. Forgive me.
Love you okay I just do.
No comments:
Post a Comment