The panic over, Alfie swallowed hard, and croaked, “Raj! What on earth are you doing here?!”
“You frightened me!” exclaimed the newsagent.
“You frightened me more!” replied the boy.
“Well, I think you frightened me more.”
“No. You actually frightened me more.”
“No no no no no! You definitely one hundred per cent frightened me more!” protested Raj. “And no returns.”
There was little point arguing with the man. The newsagent was well-known for being frightened easily. Local gossip had it he once ran out of his shop screaming after he swore he saw one of his 2p jelly snakes moving.
“All right, all right,” conceded Alfie. “But I thought you were, you know, the tooth snatcher…”
“I’m not,” replied Raj. “My name is Raj. And I am your newsagent.”
“Yes yes yes! I know who you are!” said the boy, exasperated now. “What are you doing here…?”
At that moment, what seemed like a huge gust of freezing cold air came in through the window. It blew the candle out.
“It’s dark in here!” whimpered Raj.
“It’s OK, just let me find my matches…”
Alfie groped by his bedside table (which was really just an upturned milk crate) and lit the candle. Now his bedroom felt decidedly chilly, so he moved over to the window and closed it. Feeling more than a little spooked, he locked it too.
“Well, I was lying in my bed above the shop and I couldn’t help worrying about you, all alone waiting for this…” Raj struggled to find the right word. Finally he settled on, “…thing.”
“Well, that’s kind of you, Raj, but honestly I was fine,” lied Alfie. “It must be the middle of the night now, but there has been absolutely no sign of anything.”
“And my tooth is still under your pillow?”
“Oh yes,” said Alfie, moving over to the bed. “I put it just here. Look…”
But when the boy lifted the pillow the tooth wasn’t there.
Something else was.
Something horribly horrible.
Something dreadfully dreadful.
An eyeball.
The long silky nerve at the back was still attached. It was flailing about as if it were a tail, making the eyeball twitch and wriggle on the mattress like a tadpole on dry land.
screamed Raj.
Alfie, who as we know thought of himself as being a tiny bit braver than the newsagent, screamed too:
The boy’s scream was even louder.
“It’s an eyeball!” screamed Raj.
“I know!” said Alfie.
“But it’s an actual eyeball…!”
“Yes, but let’s all try and stay calm,” said the boy. “This is a clue…”
Alfie slowly and steadily brought the candle down to examine the eyeball. It was unusually large. It was the size of a ping-pong ball. The eyeball had to be from a large animal. Or perhaps a giant.
Just then the eyeball turned and looked straight at him.
screamed Alfie.
screamed Raj.
“It looked at me!” spluttered the boy. “It looked at me straight in the eye…”
Someone was banging on the wall.
Raj screamed again, and tried to leap into Alfie’s arms.
“That’s my dad in the next room…”
“Oh, sorry,” said the newsagent, trying to calm himself. His nerves were shot to pieces tonight. “I always leaped into my mother’s arms whenever I saw a mouse…”
“Well, you are too heavy…”
“I know. Mother told me that when I tried to do it last week.”
Alfie looked at the newsagent, utterly incredulous.
Dad was banging on the wall again.
“Son? Son? Are you all right?” he coughed and spluttered from the next room.
“Just coming, Dad…”
Alfie rushed out of his room and down the corridor to his father’s bedroom, the petrified newsagent trailing close behind.
“Raj…?” asked Dad, really quite bemused.
“Ah, hello, Mr Griffith…” said Raj brightly, pretending that being in the man’s bungalow in the dead of night was perfectly normal.
“Look, if it’s about the newspaper bill, I was meaning to…” began Dad.
Raj smiled. “My friend, the newspaper bill has been long forgotten.”
“So what are you doing here?” asked Dad.
Raj looked over to Alfie. Dad followed his gaze. Suddenly all eyes (well, apart from the one in the room next door) were staring at him.
“Well…?” said Dad. “I think it’s about time you told me the truth, my lad!”
‘My lad’ was something Dad only called Alfie when he had done something wrong. Alfie knew that. He took a deep breath. It was finally time to tell his father the whole story…
26
Thick Brown Slime
Fantastical tales were Dad’s speciality. However, this one he struggled to believe. With some prompting from Raj, Alfie told his dad the whole story… the dentist’s visit to the school… the special ‘Mummy’s toothpaste’ that burned through stone… the tooth snatching happening every night… being chased by the entire town… and finally having all his teeth taken out. Dad’s disbelief turned to anger when Alfie took out the false teeth and held them up to the candlelight.
“When I get my hands on that dentist…” shouted Dad, before he was plunged into a coughing and spluttering fit.
Holding his dad, Alfie declared, “This is why I didn’t want to tell you! I didn’t want to upset you…”
Alfie’s father looked deep into his son’s eyes.
“I am more upset you didn’t tell me, son… We’re a team, aren’t we? You and me?”
Alfie nodded; he was afraid his voice would crack with emotion if he spoke.
“You’re my pup. My little pup…” continued Dad. “And I would do anything for my little pup… I would die for you, if I had to…”
A tear welled in Alfie’s eye. Even Raj was blubbing, and had a big old blow of his nose on his sleeve.
Soon the pair had helped Dad into his chair, and he wheeled himself into the next room to inspect the final and most gruesome piece of the puzzle…
The eyeball.
Thankfully by now it had stopped twitching and wriggling. However, it had left a trail of thick brown slime all over the sheet where it had travelled. The three faces peered in to inspect it by candlelight.
“The strangest thing is,” began Alfie, “I swear I was awake all night. So how could the tooth have been switched with this without me knowing?”
Dad thought long and hard, before replying.
“You must have nodded off at some point, son.”
“No,” said the boy. Alfie was absolutely sure. “I didn’t. And I kept checking under the pillow all night. In fact, I checked just before Raj came in, and it was still there…”
“You shut the window behind me…” added Raj.
“Just after that freezing gust of wind…” Alfie thought aloud.
“Yes,” agreed Raj. He inspected the window. “And look, it’s still locked…”
Then all three fell deadly silent. Out of the gloom Dad whispered, “Then whoever or whatever did this must still be in the bungalow…”
None of them moved a muscle.
“In fact, it could still be in this room…” he whispered.
Three sets of eyes darted around in the dark. If this was true, where could it be hiding? The room was cramped. There were only a couple of pieces of furniture. It was not ideal for a game of hide-and-seek.
With his eyes, Dad indicated the old wooden wardrobe standing in the corner of the room. Alfie started to tiptoe over to it, holding the candle. His body weight landed on a loose floorboard and it creaked loudly. Dad put his finger up to his lips, and Alfie rebalanced his weight quickly. With two more silent steps he had his hand on the wardrobe door. Dad nodded his head gently, to indicate that his son shou
ld open it. The suspense was too much for Raj, who was already cowering behind Dad’s wheelchair, and had now closed his eyes.
The boy pulled the handles sharply. Something flew towards him…
His anorak. The sleeve must have been caught in the door.
After taking a breath, Alfie pushed his few items of clothing aside, but there was nothing evil lurking in the cupboard. Aside from an old unwashed football sock, that is. It had been lying there so long it now had yellow and green mould growing on it.
Throughout, Raj’s eyes remained tightly shut, his face grimacing in fear. Dad tugged at the newsagent’s arm and he startled like a wild horse, leaping into the air as his whole body contorted in fright.
he neighed.
“Sssshhhh!” shushed Dad, and with his eyes he pointed to the bed. Raj pointed to himself and assumed an expression which said, ‘Me?’
Dad nodded, with an expression which said, ‘Yes! You!’
The newsagent shook his head. He put his hands together in prayer, begging Dad for it not to have to be him.
Alfie rolled his eyes. He stepped forward and gently pushed the cowardly newsagent aside. Pulling up the sheet, Alfie bent down with the candle in his hand to look underneath the bed. It was dark under there, and even with the candlelight he squinted as he tried to make anything out in the shadows. Like most boys, Alfie never bothered to clean under his bed. So there were long-forgotten pieces of Lego and a pair of dirty old underpants loitering there. All looked ghostly grey, smothered in a thick covering of dust. Alfie sighed. Again there seemed to be nothing evil hiding there…
Then. Under the bed. Out of the darkness. Two eyes opened. And fixed the boy with a deathly black stare.
cried Alfie.
The owner of those eyes then blew Alfie’s candle out. Now the room was all but pitch black. A shadowy figure rose from under the bed. Without stopping to unlock the window, it flew straight through it with a deafening roar. It moved at such speed that shards of smashed glass exploded out of the room.
Alfie hurried to the window frame. He needed to catch a glimpse of whoever or whatever had been hiding under his bed. The boy looked out into the dark night. Something rocketed down the road and then soared up and up and up into the sky. Higher and higher it rose until it flew through the clouds. Soon all that was left behind was a trail of black smoke.
Alfie closed his eyes. Surely they were deceiving him?
Opening his eyes again, he saw that the trail was still there.
This was no nightmare.
This was real.
Alfie had no option. He had to believe.
27
A Case of the Willies
PC Plank didn’t look best pleased to be dragged out of his warm comfy bed in the middle of the night. The policeman still had his stripy pyjamas on, but had put on his police cap to try and give himself some sense of authority. With a torch, he examined the smashed window in Alfie’s bedroom. He traced the beam of the torch around the frame, before shining it on the shards of glass on the floor. Finally the policeman announced, “This window has been smashed.”
Alfie rolled his eyes. “Yes, we’ve established that…”
Plank shone the torch right into the boy’s eyes. “Less of your lip, sunshine. You are lucky I don’t arrest you. Littering, wasting police time, not stopping when requested by an officer of the law.”
Dad was becoming increasingly frustrated with the policeman. His breathing was growing more and more uneven. “Listen, Constable, something very serious happened here tonight. Someone…”
“Or something…” chimed in the newsagent.
“Thank you, Raj…” spluttered Dad, “…or something, came into my son’s bedroom in the middle of the night, and left that revolting… thing… under his pillow.”
PC Plank shone his torch on the eyeball, still glistening on the bed.
“Hmm…” he hmmmed*. “Just the one eyeball, was it?”
* * *
*Made-up word ALERT
* * *
“What?!” replied Alfie, utterly bemused by the line of questioning.
“Well, they normally come in pairs, don’t they?” Plank defended himself. “Two would be worse, but I suppose one is still bad…”
“Yes, Plank. An eyeball under your pillow is bad! Very bad…” replied Dad, before breaking into a terrible coughing fit.
“Seeing it gave me an awful case of the willies!” added Raj.
“Gabz and I told you this was happening,” said Alfie. “Now you’ve seen it with your own eyes. I am no detective but I know that eyeball is a really important piece of evidence. Shouldn’t you be taking it away and examining it for fingerprints or DNA?”
“Yes, yes…” replied PC Plank. “But no, no…”
“No?” said Alfie.
“You see, I’ve run out of my special evidence bags. Me mum used the last one tonight for me sandwiches, in case I got peckish…”
“Oh, for goodness’ sake!” said Dad.
The policeman produced the sandwiches from his pyjama pocket. “Jam…” he announced, before taking a bite of one. “Mum makes a very nice jam sandwich, takes the crusts off for me, an’ all.”
Large saliva-sodden crumbs dropped from his mouth on to the eyeball.
“Erm…” said Plank as he munched away. “Have you got any clingfilm in the house I can wrap the eyeball in?”
“No!” replied the boy angrily.
“Hmmm…” The policeman hmmed* again.
* * *
*Made-up word ALERT
* * *
“Let me think…” said Plank as he finished his sandwich. “I’ve got it. Can you post it to me?”
“What?” said Dad between coughs, unable to believe quite how stupid this man was.
“Yes! Pop it in a Jiffy bag, slap a second class stamp on it, I should get it by Monday…”
“That will be too late!” cried Alfie. “How many times do you need to be told?”
“Normally about three or four at least to really get through…” replied the policeman without irony.
“Look! Every night kids are putting their teeth under their pillows and waking up to something horrible like this!” pleaded the boy. “You have to do something!”
“ALL RIGHT!” protested PC Plank. “A first class stamp!”
*
It was a relief when the useless policeman finally left. Raj went home soon after. He insisted on calling himself a taxi for the one minute ride back to his flat above the shop. He was far too spooked to walk home alone.
Dad and Alfie cuddled up in bed together. Not only had the boy been scared out of his wits, his father had too. But even with his dad’s arm around him, Alfie couldn’t sleep a wink that night.
His mind was racing, replaying the events in his head over and over again. Was that freezing gust of wind really the tooth snatcher entering his room? And those eyes under the bed. There was no denying it. Alfie had seen those eyes before. Those black eyes. Now he had to confront their owner.
Soon dawn was breaking, the sunlight burning through the holes in the curtains. As Dad snored, Alfie gently lifted his father’s heavy arm off him and tiptoed silently back to his room. Everything in there was covered in a silvery frost. With the window smashed, the room had become freezing cold. As quickly as he could, Alfie dressed and popped his false teeth back in. Looking out of the window frame as he zipped up his coat, there was no sound. Not even the birds were singing yet. It was still very early, and the boy knew that this was his chance. Last night had been all too much for his dad’s health. Raj’s nerves made him a liability. As for Gabz, this was all now way too dangerous for him to want to involve the little girl.
He was going to have to face this monster alone.
28
Out of the Fog
After closing the front door of the bungalow as gently as possible so his father wouldn’t hear him leave, Alfie ran through the empty streets. His destination: the dentist’s surgery.
The boy squinted to see if he could make out the lettering on the door.
As the boy pondered what ‘MDW’ might stand for, above his head he heard what sounded like the hum of a jet engine. His eyes darted upwards. Out of the fog, Alfie saw a figure emerging, flying at speed through the air high above the buildings, astride what looked like some kind of gas cylinder. Something else was perched on the back too. After circling overhead a few times, the duo began their descent. Even though the town was cloaked in fog, as they came down, the boy had a clearer and clearer view. Soon Alfie could see who it was without a shadow of a doubt.
It was Miss Root, the dentist.
Riding her laughing gas cylinder.
The something else perched on the back was Fang. Before long they reached the ground.
The dentist turned a dial on the front of the cylinder, and the contraption came to a halt at the surgery door. She hopped off with the ease that someone might get off a bicycle.
That’s how she managed to zoom all over town every night! thought Alfie.
Despite having just flown through the air, Miss Root looked remarkably composed. Not only were her clothes immaculate, but not a hair was out of place on her head. Alfie ducked back behind the tree as the dentist stole a quick glance over her shoulder to ensure that no one was watching. Then she disappeared inside, her faithful white cat following close behind. She was carrying the cylinder under one arm, and a shiny metal tin under the other. It rattled as she walked. It must be full of children’s teeth!
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