Gruesomely Grimm Zombie Tale

by Wilhelm Grimm

  He wouldn’t dare, the pastor thought. And he didn’t utter a sound, but rather continued standing still as a stone.

  The boy called out a third time. And, when that did no good, he charged the figure, knocking the ghost down the stairs so that it fell down ten steps and lay still in a corner. Then the boy rang the bell, went home, and went to bed without giving it another thought.

  The pastor’s wife waited a long time for her husband, but he didn’t come back. Finally, she got worried, woke the boy, and asked, “Do you know what’s become of my husband? He went up to the belfry ahead of you.”

  “No,” the boy answered. “But somebody was standing on the stairs across from the sound hole. When he wouldn’t answer or go away, I thought he might be up to no good, so I pushed him down the stairs. Go take a look. I’ll feel just terrible if it was him.”

  The wife dashed off to discover her husband moaning in the corner. He had a broken leg. After getting him to the doctor, she went to the boy’s father. “Your son has really done it! He threw my husband down the stairs of the belfry and broke his leg. Get that good-for-nothing boy out of my house.”

  The father was horrified; he went to the pastor’s house and chewed his son out. “What in the hell did you do? Did the devil possess you all of a sudden?”

  “Father,” the boy said, “just listen. I’m innocent here. That man was standing there in the middle of the night like somebody up to no good. I didn’t know who he was, and I warned him three times to say something or go away.”

  “Uh-huh,” the father replied, unconvinced. “I’m never gonna have any peace with you. Just get out of my sight. I can’t look at you right now.”

  “Yes, sir,” the boy said. “Just give me until morning and then I’m out of here. I’ll go someplace and learn how to get the creeps. Then, at least I’ll have a way to earn a living.”

  “Fine,” the father said with utter exasperation. “Learn whatever you like…it’s all the same to me. Here’s fifty bucks. Take it and hit the road. Just never tell a soul where you came from or who your father is, because I just can’t take the shame.”

  “Okay, Father,” the boy agreed. “If that’s all you ask of me, it won’t be hard to remember.”

  When morning came, the youngest son pocketed the fifty bucks and hit the road. All the while, he mumbled to himself, “If I could only get the creeps! If only I could get the creeps!”

  Then a man passed by and heard the conversation the boy was having with himself. When they had gone on a ways, they passed by the gallows.

  “Look,” the man said, “there’s a tree where seven have celebrated their marriage to the ropemaker’s daughter, and now they’re learning how to fly. Sit down under it and wait till night comes. You’ll get the creeps all right.”

  “If that’s all there is to it,” said the boy, “it’ll be a cinch. If I learn to get the creeps as quickly as all that, I’ll give you my fifty bucks. Come back in the morning.”

  Then, he went to the gallows, sat down under it and waited for night to fall. Since he was cold, he made a fire, but by midnight the wind was blowing so cold that, in spite of the fire, he couldn’t get warm. And when the winds kicked up, the hanged men began to knock together and swing back and forth. If I’m freezing down here by the fire, he thought, imagine what it must be like for them.

  Being a kindhearted boy, he took a ladder, climbed up, untied them one by one, and brought them down, all seven. Then he stirred up the fire and blew on it, setting them all around it so they could get warm. But they sat motionless, and the sparks from the fire took hold of their clothes.

  “Be careful,” he warned, “or I’ll hang you up again.” But the dead men didn’t hear him; they didn’t say a word and just let their clothes burn.

  That made the boy angry. “If you won’t be careful, I can’t help you,” he said. “Next thing you know, you’ll set me on fire.” And he hung them up again one by one. Then he sat down beside the fire and fell asleep.

  In the morning, the man came back for his fifty bucks. “Well,” he said, “did you get the creeps?”

  “How could I?” the boy yawned. “Those fellows up there didn’t open their mouths. They’re so stupid that they let the few rags they had on their backs catch fire and burn.

  The man saw that he wouldn’t be getting an easy fifty bucks and walked away saying, “I never saw anybody like that before.”

  The boy resumed his journey as well. Once more he mumbled over and over to himself,” “Oh, if I could only get the creeps! Oh, if I could only get the creeps.”

  A wagon driver who was walking beside his cart behind the boy overheard. “Who are you?” he asked.

  “I don’t know,” answered the youngster.

  “Where are ya from?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Where are your parents?”

  “That I can’t tell you,” the boy said

  “What is it that you keep muttering?”

  “Ah,” the boy replied, “I wish I could get the creeps. But nobody seems to be able to teach me how.”

  “That’s nuts,” said the wagon driver. “Forget it and come with me. I’ll find you a place to stay.”

  The boy went with the wagon driver, and in the evening they came to an inn where they decided to spend the night. As they stepped into the hall, he said it again in a loud voice, “I wish I could get the creeps!”

  The innkeeper heard him and laughed, “If that’s what you want…I believe it can be arranged.”

  “Don’t say such things,” the innkeeper’s wife said. “Think of all the foolhardy lads who have lost their lives; what a shame if those pretty eyes were never to see the light of day again.”

  “I don’t care how hard it is,” the boy insisted. “I want to learn; that’s what I left home for.” And he gave the innkeeper no peace until the man told him about the nearby castle, where a fellow could learn all about the creeps if he was willing to spend a few nights there.

  The governor had promised his daughter in marriage to the man who could do it, and she was the most beautiful maiden under the sun. Besides, there were great treasures in the castle, guarded by monsters if you believed the rumors. Those treasures would make a person very rich. Many had gone in, but none had come out again.

  The next morning, the boy went to the governor and said, “If you let me, I’d like to spend a few nights in the castle.”

  The governor gave the young man a once over, and because he liked what he saw, he said, “You may ask for three things to take with you into the castle, but they must be lifeless things.”

  “Then give me fire, a lathe, and a smith’s anvil and workbench with the hammer,” the young man said.

  The governor had these things taken at sunrise. That night at dusk the young man went inside, made a bright fire in one of the rooms, set up the smith’s anvil and workbench with the hammer beside it, and sat down by the lathe.

  “Oh, if I could only get the creeps!” he said. “But I won’t learn in this place either.”

  Toward midnight he thought he’d stir up the fire. As he was blowing on it, he heard rasping sounds “Fools!” he called to the darkness. “What’s the good of moaning? If you’re so cold, come sit by the fire and warm yourselves.”

  No sooner had he spoken when a pair of black cats dragged their torn and twisted bodies into the light. He wished for a moment that he’d asked for a ball of yarn. Cats loved to play with such things. It would certainly pass the time quicker to play with the cats. As they drew closer, he noticed a strange white film over their eyes, gaping holes in their bellies, and dried blood on their whiskers. Then he noticed their wicked claws.

  “My goodness!” he exclaimed. “What long nails you have. I think they need a trimming.”

  With that, he seized them by the scruffs of their necks, lifted them to the smith’s anvil and workbench and made their paws fast in the vise. “Now that I’ve had a look at those claws, I don’t feel like playing with the like
s of you.” He crushed their tiny heads with the hammer and carried the bodies to the pond out front and tossed them in.

  But when he got rid of those two and was sitting down by his fire again, black cats and black dogs with red-hot chains came rushing out from every nook and shadow. More and more of them came until there was no place for him to escape to. They mewled and growled, so many that his fire was practically trampled and put out.

  He watched calmly for a while, marveling at how some of them could even walk, their injuries so grievous. Eventually, he had had enough and seized his hammer, shouting, “Get out, you no-goods!” With all his might he swung at the beasts. Some tried to drag themselves away, but he killed them all and tossed them into the pond.

  When he came back, he blew on the embers of his fire and then warmed himself. As he was sitting there, he could hardly keep his eyes open, and wanted to sleep. He looked around and saw a great bed in the corner. That’s just what I need, he thought, and lay down. But as he was closing his eyes, the bed began to roll of its own accord, and went rolling all around the castle.

  “Perfect,” he said, “but faster would be better.” And on it rolled as if drawn by six horses, through doorways and up and down stairs. All of a sudden, hop, hop, it turned over upside down and lay on top of him like a mountain.

  But he threw off the pillows and blankets, climbed out and said, “Now if you’ve a mind to, go right on a-rolling.” Then he lay down by his fire and slept until daylight.

  In the morning, the governor came in. When he saw the young man lying on the floor, he thought the ghouls had killed him. “What a pity,” he said. “Such a strapping and handsome boy.”

  The young man heard him, sat up and said, “Not so fast.”

  The governor was not only amazed, but absolutely thrilled. He asked the lad how he’d made out.

  “Pretty good,” he said. “One night has passed, the two others will do so as well.” Then, he excused himself and headed to the inn for breakfast.

  “I never expected to see you alive again,” the innkeeper gasped, his eyes almost bugging out of his head. “Have you found the creeps?”

  “No,” he said. “It’s hopeless. If only someone would tell me!”

  On the second night he returned to the castle, sat down by the fire, and started talking to himself, his same old song. “If only I could get the creeps!”

  At the approach of midnight, a din and a hub-bub were heard, first softly, then louder and louder. Then it was still for a while, and then, with horrible groans and moans, half a man came down the chimney and fell in front of him.

  “Hey!” cried the young man. “That’s not enough. where’s the other half?” Then there was another rumbling and the other half landed with a wet splat.

  “Wait,” said the young man. “I’ll stir the fire up for you.” When he’d done so, he looked around. The upper half of the body had dragged itself up to his workbench. “That wasn’t our bargain,” said the young man, “the bench is mine.”

  The horrible half-man pawed at the young lad, trying to claw and bite, but the lad wouldn’t let him; he shoved the living dead atrocity away and seated himself at the bench, resting one foot on the back of the head of the half-man. Then several more fell down the chimney as well.

  “How rude to invite friends when you yourself are an intruder on my hospitality,” the young man said. Pulling his hammer, he went to work on the skulls of the small mob of zombies. As he swung the heavy mallet, he hummed a tune. When he was finished, he stoked the fire and tossed the corpses in to add more warmth. Then he lay down and fell into a peaceful sleep.

  The next morning the governor came to check in on the young man. “How did you make out this time?”

  “Some ghouls dropped in and I hummed them one of my favorite tunes.”

  “Didn’t it give you the creeps?”

  “Puh-lease,” the young man said. “I had a blast. I just wish I knew what the creeps were!”

  On the third night he sat down at his workbench again and said sadly, “If I could only get the creeps!”

  When it grew late, six zombies shambled in. The young man quickly dispatched them. Afterwards, he discovered a lone coffin in the hall. That must be my cousin who died a few days ago, he thought. He flipped open the lid, “Come out, come out, dear cousin,” he said, but nothing happened. He touched the cheek and discovered it was as cold as ice. “Wait, I’ll warm you a little.”

  He went to his fire and warmed his hands, then touched the face once more, but it stayed cold. He took the body out, laying the head in his lap and rubbed the arms to start the blood moving. When that didn’t work, he remembered how when you lie in bed together, you warm each other; so he put him into the bed, covered him up and got in with him. After a while the body began to move.

  “See cousin. I’ve warmed you, haven’t I?” But the dead body reached over and tried to bite the young man. “What?” he cried. “Is this my thanks?” And he rolled out of bed, scooped up the squirming corpse and threw it back into its coffin, closing the lid.

  He remembered how he’d had to use his hammer before as he listened to the scratching and struggling from within the coffin. He flipped open the lid and brought his hammer down on his dead cousin’s skull. Meanwhile, he thought, I just can’t get the creeps…I’ll never learn how to in this place if I live to be a hundred.

  Then, an old man came in; he was bigger than all the rest. His stomach was a gaping hole and all manner of his insides hung down to his knees. The young man shook his head. This one would make quite a mess. He led the old man to the area by his anvil which had no carpets and would be easier to clean.

  He yanked the man down by the beard so that his head was square on the anvil and brought his mallet down so hard that he split the anvil. Then, he wandered the halls. That is when he found the door to the cellar. Down there, he found three chests of gold.

  “Hmm,” said the young man. “This is far too much for three nights’ work clearing a castle of ghouls who couldn’t put up much of a fight. One chest shall be for the poor, one shall be for the governor, and one for me.” He returned to the warmth of his fire and went to sleep. In the morning, the governor arrived as usual.

  “I bet you know what the creeps are now.”

  “No,” the young man replied. “But I did see my cousin who became one of the ghouls, along with a great big man, but no creeps.” He paused, then added, “Oh yeah…and I found three chests of gold.”

  “You’ve set the castle free!” the governor exclaimed. “And stopped the ghouls from making their way to the countryside to infect the citizens. For that, you shall marry my daughter.”

  “Great,” the lad shrugged. “But I still didn’t get the creeps.”

  The gold was brought up and the wedding was celebrated. But as much as he loved his wife and as happy as he was, he continued to lament, “If only I could get the creeps. If only I could get the creeps.” Eventually it really began to annoy his new bride.

  “Don’t you fret,” the housemaid whispered. “Leave it to me, I’ll give him the creeps.” That night she hid all of his new bride’s expensive make-up, hairbrushes, and even the toothbrush.

  In the morning, when the young man woke to the sun and saw his bride’s head on the pillow beside him without her exotic make-up, then took a deep whiff of her morning breath, he whispered, “Now, at last I have the creeps!”

  5

  The Zombie and the Seven Kids

  Based on:

  Der Wolf und die sieben jungen Geißlein

  Once there was a middle-aged woman with seven kids, and she loved them very much. One day she needed to go to the DHS office to renew her food stamp card, so she called all seven in from where they were playing in the empty field out behind the trailer.

  “Dear children, I’m going to DHS. There’s been strange things on the news lately about attacks by people who were once thought to be dead,” she said. “I want you to stay inside and not let anybody in but me.”
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  “Yes, mother,” the chorus of children’s voices sang back. “We will be careful. You don’t need to worry about us.” The woman kissed her children and went about the day’s business with an easy mind.

  It was not long before the meaty slap of a hand sounded at the door. A zombie had been drawn by the sounds of the children playing inside the trailer. They grew quiet, shivering at the sounds of a low moan that carried above the sound of the daytime talk show blaring on the television.

  “Maybe it’s mom,” one of the children whispered. “She might be hurt.”

  “We aren’t opening the door,” the oldest child said. “Our mother has a beautiful voice. You’ve heard her when she sings us to sleep at bedtime.”

  The children stayed silent for a long time, and eventually the zombie wandered away. But soon, another came and this one sounded like it was whimpering because of the great hole in its throat.

  “Maybe that’s mom,” one of the children again whispered.

  “Look at the shadow in the glass,” the oldest pointed out. “Mom has beautiful, long hair.”

  Once again, they were quiet until the zombie outside grew bored and wandered away.

  Next door, at the trailer of the Miller family, the wife had been out in the garden when a zombie snuck up from behind and bit into her shoulder, then tore away part of her face as she kicked and screamed. The husband peeked out and saw it and feared that he might be next. He quickly got the zombie in the garden and his newly risen wife’s attention. He led them around the corner and to the trailer next door where the children hid. Yes, that is the way people are.

  For the third time there was a noise at the door and the sound of a hand scratching away. The oldest looked and saw the shadow of a woman with long, wavy hair, just like their mother. He opened the door and was immediately dragged down by the zombie of the neighbor’s wife.