The Grimm Reader

by Maria Tatar

  When he heard that, the older son laughed out loud and thought: “Good God, my brother really is an idiot! He’ll never amount to anything. As the twig is bent, so grows the tree.”

  The father sighed and said: “Getting the creeps, you’ll learn that soon enough, but you’re not going to be able to buy your bread with that.”

  Before long, the sexton dropped by for a visit, and the boy’s father started complaining to him about the problems he was having with a son who didn’t know anything and was incapable of learning anything. “Just imagine: I asked him how he was planning to earn his bread, and he actually wanted to learn how to get the creeps.”

  “If that’s all that’s wrong,” the sexton replied, “I can help him out. Send him over to my house, and I’ll shape him up.”

  The father liked the idea, for he thought: “Maybe this will smooth his rough edges.”

  The sexton took the boy in and gave him the job of ringing the church bells. After a few days he woke him up at midnight, told him to get up and climb into the belfry to ring the bell. “You’ll learn what it’s like to have the creeps soon enough,” he thought, and he secretly went on ahead of him. When the boy was at the top of the stairs and just turning around to grab the bell rope, he saw a white shape on the staircase, right across from the louvers.

  “Who’s there?” he cried out, but the shape refused to answer and didn’t budge from where it was.

  “Answer me,” the boy said, “or get out! You’ve no business here in the middle of the night.”

  The sexton remained completely motionless so that the boy would think that he was a ghost.

  A second time the boy shouted: “What are you doing here? Speak up if you’re an honest man or I’ll throw you down the stairs.”

  The sexton thought: “He doesn’t really mean it.” He didn’t make a sound and just stood there, as if he were made of stone. The boy called out to him a third time, and when that did no good either, he took a running start and pushed the ghost down the stairs, sending him tumbling down ten steps so that he ended up lying in a corner of the staircase. Then he rang the bell, went home, got into bed without saying a word, and fell asleep.

  The sexton’s wife stayed up quite a while waiting for her husband, but he failed to return home. She started worrying about him, woke the boy up, and asked: “Do you have any idea where my husband is? Didn’t he go up with you to the belfry?”

  “No, no,” the boy replied. “There was someone standing on the stairs across from the louvers, but he wouldn’t answer when I talked to him and refused to go away. I’m sure he was up to no good, and so I pushed him down the stairs. Why don’t you go over and then you’ll see if it’s your husband? If it is, I’m really sorry.”

  Off raced the sexton’s wife, and she found her husband lying in the corner of the staircase. He was writhing in pain, and it turned out that he had broken a leg. She took her husband downstairs and then went running to the boy’s father, hollering: “Your son has caused a really bad accident. He threw my husband down the stairs and now his leg is broken. Get that good-for-nothing out of our house.”

  The father was horror stricken and went running over to give the boy a piece of his mind. “What kinds of wicked things have you been doing? The devil must have put you up to it!”

  “Father,” he replied. “Just listen to me. I didn’t do anything wrong. The sexton was standing there late at night like someone who was up to no good. I didn’t know who it was and I warned him three times to say something or to go away.”

  The father said to him: “You’re nothing but trouble. Just get out of my sight. I don’t want to have you around any more.”

  “All right, Father,” he said, “that’s fine, but let’s just wait until morning. Then I’ll go out and learn about how to get the creeps. At least I’ll have a way to make a living.”

  “Learn whatever you want,” his father said. “It’s all the same to me. Here are fifty talers. Go off and do whatever you want out in the world, but don’t tell anyone where you’re from or who your father is. I’m ashamed of you.”

  “Yes, Father, as you wish,” he said. “If that’s what you want, you can count on me.”

  Now at daybreak, the boy put the fifty talers in his pocket, went out to the main road, and kept mumbling to himself: “If only I could get the creeps! If only I could get the creeps!” A man joined him on the road and heard the words he kept repeating. When they had walked for a while, they came within sight of the gallows, and the man said to him: “If you look over at that tree, you’ll see a place where seven men celebrated their wedding with the rope maker’s daughter. Now they’re learning how to fly. Sit down beneath the tree and wait until nightfall. Believe me, you’ll learn how to get the creeps.”

  “If that’s all there is to it,” said the boy, “then I’ll manage very well. If I learn how to get the creeps that quickly, you can come back tomorrow morning and have my fifty talers.”

  The boy walked over to the gallows, sat down beneath them, and waited for night to fall. Since it was cold, he decided to start a fire. But around midnight the wind was blowing so fiercely that he couldn’t get warm, even though the fire was burning. When the wind started buffeting the hanged men so that they were hitting against each other, he thought: “If you are freezing down here by the fire, the guys hanging up there must be really cold.” And since he was a compassionate soul, he got a ladder, climbed up, untied them one after another, and brought all seven down. Then he blew on the embers, stoked the fire, and set the men all around so that they could get warm. But they all just sat there and didn’t stir, even when flames started licking their clothes. The boy said: “Be careful or I’ll string you up again.” The dead men didn’t pay attention, remained silent, and let their rags go on burning. Then the boy got really mad and said: “If you don’t listen to me, then I can’t help you at all. I’m not going to go up in flames with you.” And he hung them back up, one by one. Then he sat down by the fire and fell asleep. The next day the traveler came for his fifty talers and said: “Well, then, did you learn how to get the creeps?”

  “Not at all,” he said. “How could I have learned it? The guys over there refused to open their mouths, and they were so stupid that they even let the old rags on their backs catch fire.” And so the man realized that he wasn’t going to get his fifty talers that day, and he left, saying to himself: “I’ve never met anyone like that in my whole life.”

  The boy too went his way, and he started talking to himself again: “Oh, if I could just learn how to get the creeps! If I could just learn how to get the creeps!” A wagoner walking along behind him heard what he was saying and asked: “Who are you?”

  The boy answered: “I don’t know.”

  The wagoner then asked: “Where are you from?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Who is your father?”

  “I’m not allowed to tell you.”

  “Why are you always mumbling to yourself?”

  “Oh,” the boy said, “I keep wishing that I could learn how to get the creeps, but no one seems to be able to teach me.”

  “Stop talking like a fool,” the wagoner said. “Come along with me, and let me find you a place to stay.” The boy went with the wagoner, and in the evening they arrived at an inn where they could spend the night. As they were stepping into the main room, the boy declared: “If I could just learn how to get the creeps! If I could just learn how to get the creeps!” The innkeeper heard what he was saying and started laughing. He said: “If that’s really what you want, it can be arranged.”

  “Just stop it,” the innkeeper’s wife said. “Think of all the foolish young fellows who have already paid with their lives. It would be a real shame if those pretty eyes never saw the light of day again.”

  The boy insisted: “I want to learn how to get the creeps no matter ho
w hard it is. That’s why I went out into the world.” He refused to give the innkeeper a moment’s peace until the man told him all about a haunted castle that was not very far away. He could learn how to get the creeps just by spending three nights there. The king of the land had promised his daughter’s hand to anyone who dared stay there for three nights. She was the most beautiful maiden that the sun had ever shone down on.

  In the castle were hidden great treasures guarded by evil spirits. These treasures could be set free, and they were enough to make a poor man richer than he could imagine. Many a man had gone in there, but no one had come back out again.

  The next day, the boy appeared before the king and said: “If you are willing, I would like to spend three nights in the haunted castle.” The king took a good look at him, and since he found him appealing, he said: “You can ask for three things to take with you into the castle, but they must all be objects without life.”

  Here was the boy’s response: “I would like to have some fire, a lathe, and a woodcarver’s bench with a knife.”

  The king let him take everything over to the castle during the day. When night fell, the boy made a bright fire in one of the rooms, set up the woodcarver’s bench in the room, put the knife next to it, and sat on the lathe. “Oh, if only I could learn to get the creeps!” he said. “But I’m definitely not going to learn it here.”

  Toward midnight he decided to stir the fire again. While he was blowing at the embers, suddenly he heard a screeching noise in one corner. “Meow, meow, we’re freezing to death!”

  “You fools,” he cried out. “Why are you screeching like that? If you’re cold, come sit down by the fire and warm up here.” Just as he was saying that, two great big black cats jumped over to him, sat down on each side of him, and glared fiercely at him with their wild, fiery eyes. After a while, when they had warmed themselves up, they said to him: “Well, old pal, how about a hand of cards?”

  “Why not?” he replied. “But first show me your paws.”

  They put their paws out and stretched out their claws.

  “Goodness,” he said, “your nails are way too long! Hold on a minute, and I’ll trim them for you.” And he picked the cats up by the scruff of the neck, put them up on the carver’s bench, and placed their paws in the vise.

  “Now that I’ve seen your claws, I don’t feel like playing cards any more.” And he killed the two of them and threw them into the lake. No sooner had he gotten rid of those two than he sat down by the fire again, and suddenly, out of every nook and cranny of the castle, black cats and black dogs on red-hot chains started appearing, so many that he couldn’t possibly get away. They were making a horrible racket, trampling on his fire, tearing it apart, and trying to put it out. He tolerated it for a while, then became so irritated that he grabbed his knife and lashed out at them, shouting “Get out of here, you rascals!” Some of them ran away, and the others he killed and threw into the pond. When he returned, he blew on the embers again and warmed himself up.

  While he was sitting by the fire, he could hardly keep his eyes open and felt like going to sleep. When he looked around, he saw that there was a big bed in the corner. “Just what I need,” he said as he crawled in. As his eyes closed, the bed started moving around on its own and was roaming all over the castle. “Perfect,” he said, “just keep on going.” The bed started rolling as if six horses were harnessed to it, and it flew through doors and up and down stairs until, finally, crash, bang, boom, it turned upside down and lay on top of him like a mountain. He threw off the blankets and pillows, climbed out of the bed, and said: “Anyone else interested in a ride?” Then he lay down by the fire and slept until morning.

  The next day the king came over, and when he saw the boy sleeping on the ground, he thought that spirits must have taken his life and that he was dead. Then he said: “It’s really too bad about this handsome young man.” The boy heard his words, sat up, and declared: “Not so fast. I’m still here.” The king was astonished, but he was also pleased and asked how he had managed during the night. “Pretty well,” the boy replied. “Now that one night’s over, the other two will be behind me soon.”

  When he returned to the inn, the boy ran into the innkeeper, whose eyes nearly popped out of his head. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you alive again. Have you finally learned how to get the creeps?”

  “No,” the boy said. “It’s just hopeless. If only someone could teach me.”

  The second night, he went back again to the old castle, sat down by the fire, and started singing the same old tune: “If only I could learn how to get the creeps!” The midnight hour was fast approaching. There was a din and a clatter, at first soft, then louder and louder. It was quiet for a little bit, but suddenly, with a piercing scream, half a man came sliding down the chimney and fell down right in front of him.

  “Hey there,” he called out to him. “You’re missing your better half. Where’s the rest of you?” The noise started up again, a howling and a screeching, and then the other half of the man came falling down.

  “Hold on a minute,” he said. “I’ll stir up the fire for you.”

  He took care of the fire, and when he turned around he saw that the two halves had joined together again and that a ghastly looking person was sitting in his place.

  “That wasn’t part of the bargain,” he said. “That’s always been my seat.” The man wanted to push him away, but the boy wouldn’t let him. He shoved him with all his might and sat down at his place again. Suddenly more men started coming down the chimney, one after another. They brought nine dead men’s bones with them, along with two skulls, and then started bowling. The boy wanted to bowl with them, and he asked: “Hey there, can I join you?”

  “Sure, if you’ve got money.”

  “Plenty of money,” he replied, “but your bowling balls aren’t quite round.”

  He then took the skulls, sat down at the lathe, and worked on them until they were nice and round. “That’s good. Now we should be able to bowl better,” he said. “Hurrah! Let’s go have a good time.” He bowled with them and lost some of his money, but when the clock struck midnight, everything suddenly vanished. He decided to lie down and get some sleep.

  The next morning the king returned to find out what had happened. “How did you fare last night?” he asked. “Did you get the creeps?”

  “I played ninepins,” he said, “and lost a few hellers.”

  “Did you get the creeps?”

  “Are you kidding?” he said. “I had a terrific time. Now if I could just learn how to get the creeps.”

  On the third night he sat down on his bench again and said in despair: “If only I could learn how to get the creeps!” Later on six big men walked in carrying a coffin. He said to them: “That must be the cousin of mine who died just a few days ago,” and he signaled to the men and called out: “Come over here, cousin, right over here.” They put the coffin down on the ground, and he went over and took off the lid: a dead man was lying in the box. The boy touched his face, but it was cold as ice.

  “Hang on,” he said, “I’m going to warm you up,” and he went over to the fire, warmed his hand, and put it on the man’s face. The dead man stayed cold. And so he took him out of the coffin, put him on his lap, sat down with him by the fire, and started rubbing his limbs so that the blood would start circulating again. When that didn’t work, the boy recalled that when two people get under the covers, they can warm each other up. He brought the man over to the bed, tucked him in, and lay down next to him. After a while the dead man did warm up and began moving. The boy said: “See that, cousin! Imagine what would have happened if I hadn’t warmed you up!” But the dead man just started shouting: “Now I’m going to strangle you!”

  “What!” the boy said. “Is that the thanks I get? I’m going to put you right back in that coffin,” and he lifted him up, shoved him back in, and
put the lid back on. The six men returned and carried him away. “I just can’t get the creeps,” he said, “and if I stay here, I won’t get them even if I live to be a hundred.”

  Suddenly a man walked in who was taller than all the others and even more terrifying, but he was older and had a long white beard. “You rascal,” he cried out. “I’m going to teach you about getting the creeps, for now you are going to die.”

  “Not so fast,” the boy replied. “If I’m going to die, I’ll have to be there for it, won’t I?”

  “I’ll catch you all right.”

  “Easy does it, and stop that bragging. I’m just as strong as you are, and probably even stronger.”

  “We’ll see about that,” the old man said. “If you’re stronger than I am, I’ll let you go. Come on, we’ll give it a try.”

  The old man led him down some dark corridors to a smithy, and he picked up an ax and drove an anvil into the ground with one blow.

  “I can do a better job,” the boy said, and he walked over to the other anvil that was there. The old man stood next to him, with his white beard hanging down, and wanted to watch. The boy grabbed the ax, split the anvil in two with one stroke, and wedged the old man’s beard into the crack.

  “Now I’ve got you,” the boy said. “It’s your turn to die.”

  Then he took a crowbar and started beating the old man until he was whimpering in pain and begging him to stop. He promised to give him great riches. The boy took the ax out of the anvil and released him.

  The old man took him over to the castle and showed him three chests of gold that were in the basement. “One of them is for the poor,” he said, “another belongs to the king, and the third one is yours.”

  Just then the clock struck midnight and the ghost vanished, leaving the boy alone in the dark. “I won’t have any trouble getting out of here,” he said, and he groped around until he found his room, and then he fell asleep by the fire.

  The next day the king returned and said: “Now I’m sure you’ve learned how to get the creeps.”