The Crowmaster

My head shook all by itself, trying to deny what my eyes were seeing. But there was no avoiding it. There was no other way of explaining away what I was looking at. I didn’t know he’d done it, but he had. Somehow he’d come back.

Mr Mumbles was back.

Again.

‘Kyle?’ I heard Mum’s voice at the same time the living-room light came on.

‘Mum, move, get out!’ I cried, spinning quickly to face her. She was standing at the bottom of the stairs, dressing gown wrapped around her, a finger still on the light switch.

‘What?’ she frowned. ‘Why? What’s wrong?’

‘It’s him,’ I spluttered, turning back to the window. ‘It’s… Wait. Where did he go?’

‘Where did who go?’

‘Mr Mumbles,’ I yelped. ‘He was there. By the window!’

‘What? Are… are you sure?’

‘Of course I’m sure,’ I told her as I began to search the room. ‘He was right there when you switched the light on.’

‘I didn’t see anyone. It was dark, are you sure—?’

‘He was there, OK?’

Mum stood in silence, watching me check behind the curtains, the couch – anywhere Mr Mumbles might be hiding.

‘What’s all the ruckus?’ asked Ameena, who had now appeared behind Mum. She was wearing the pyjamas Mum had bought for her, and an old dressing gown of Nan’s. This was the fourth night Ameena had slept here, but I still hadn’t got used to seeing her. The sight of her knocked my train of thought, and Mum replied before I could.

‘He thinks he saw Mr Mumbles,’ she explained.

‘I don’t think I saw him, I did see him!’ I dropped to my knees and looked under the coffee table. It was a long shot, but I checked just in case.

‘Well unless he’s eight centimetres tall I doubt he’s under there,’ Ameena said.

‘What, you think this is funny?’ I demanded. ‘Have you forgotten what he did to me? To all of us?’

‘No, I haven’t forgotten,’ she said defensively, ‘but—’

‘But what? But what?’

‘Look, chill out,’ she told me. ‘If he was here then he’s not here now.’

‘Ameena’s right,’ said Mum before I could reply. ‘Let’s just all go back to bed and we can talk about it in the morning.’

I looked at them both in turn, barely able to believe what I was hearing.

‘Are you nuts?’ I cried. ‘I’m telling you I just saw Mr Mumbles and you think it can wait till morning?’

‘I know that’s what you think you saw,’ Mum continued, ‘but I was standing right here and I couldn’t see anyone.’

‘He was here!’ I insisted. ‘He was right here! What, was I imagining him or something, is that what you’re saying?’

Mum didn’t speak, but her face said it all.

‘I dunno,’ Ameena shrugged. ‘I saw what happened to him up on the roof, and I don’t think that’s something you come back from. Even if you are an imaginary evil monster guy.’

I glanced between them, still amazed at what I was hearing, but fully aware I wasn’t going to win this argument. Not against both of them.

‘Fine,’ I scowled, ‘let’s all go back to bed. But if you both get murdered in your sleep, don’t come crying to me in the morning.’

* * *

I’m not sure how long I lay there on my bed, propped up against my pillows. An hour? Two? The world outside was still wrapped in darkness and morning felt like a long way away.

I hadn’t been able to relax since returning to my room. I was certain I’d seen Mr Mumbles, but the more time passed the more unbelievable that seemed. Mr Mumbles was dead. Very dead. You couldn’t get much deader. But I’d seen him.

Hadn’t I?

What if he hadn’t been there? Could it have been that I’d been dreaming somehow? Or hallucinating? The lack of sleep and the flashback of the breaking glass could have sent my imagination into overdrive. It was possible, I supposed. And Mum must’ve been there for at least a few seconds before she switched the light on, yet she hadn’t seen anyone in the room besides me.

I felt the muscles in my back relax a little. The headache that had been pulsing behind my eyes since I’d come back to bed eased off a few notches. Maybe Mum and Ameena were right. Maybe I was worrying about nothing. Nothing that a few hours of sleep wouldn’t fix, anyway.

A glance at my bedside clock told me it was barely after four. School had been closed for the past few days while investigators tried to work out how every pupil and teacher had managed to develop temporary amnesia at exactly the same time; so I could sleep on for as long as I wanted.

I closed my eyes and allowed myself a smile. I could still remember the looks of panicked confusion on the faces of the teachers and students as they ‘awoke’ to find themselves standing in my front garden. The police and the school inspectors and anyone else who fancied could investigate all they liked. There was no way they’d figure out the truth. It was just too weird. There was no way they’d ever find out about—

The soft giggle from the end of my bed seemed deafening in the silence. My childhood instincts screamed at me to pull the covers over my head and hide, while my more grown-up ones ordered me to sit up and face whatever was with me in my room.

In the end I came up with a compromise. I kicked off the covers and rolled out of bed, pushing myself into the corner of the room and as far from the source of the sound as possible.

A small, frail figure stood watching me from the gloom. Her flowing white dress was caked thick with dried blood. In her hands she clutched a dirty porcelain-faced rag doll. Raggy Maggie’s single eye bored into me as the girl waved one of the doll’s stubby arms up and down.

‘Peek-a-boo,’ sang Caddie. ‘I see you!’

Chapter Two OF MONSTERS PAST

Silence filled the room like a void. Caddie was still standing at the foot of my bed, still making the doll wave at me. Her dark eyes watched me, unblinking, but she made no attempt to move closer.

A thousand thoughts crashed together in my head. I reached out and plucked one at random.

‘How did you get here?’

She didn’t answer.

‘What are you doing here?’ I demanded – more loudly, but not loud enough to wake anyone up.

‘She doesn’t want to play with us any more,’ the girl spoke softly.