Read Online Baby Teeth: Bite-sized tales of terror by Dan Rabarts - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Dan Rabarts
Ads: Link
build up,â Grandfather said, and so I did. I looked for something that was bigger than Rocky, and the neighbours had a cat. I waited more than two weeks. Because this time I needed help. I wanted some digging done but I donât like to touch the dirt. If I got caught I didnât want to be on my own. Not after Rocky. So I got my little brother and told him he had to dig a hole for me behind the shed. I told him we were looking for something buried, and if he didnât do it I would punch him. He cried but he dug the hole. I went and got the cat and it scratched me but not really bad. I put it in the hole and held it down with the shovel. Then I kicked dirt in with my foot.
âYouâve got to help,â I told Matt. He just snivelled, so I told him to hold the shovel and he did. But he wouldnât stop crying. I didnât even punch him.
The cat only yowled for a short time. It was a horrible noise. I wouldnât practise on a cat again unless I could keep it quiet. Pretty soon though I had covered it and you couldnât hear anything. I took the shovel off Matt, in case. The cat didnât come up. Matt ran away, but I watched the hole a long time to make sure the cat never dug its way out. Nothing happened and nobody noticed the hole. So that worked.
Every Sunday we go to St Andrews Church. Itâs hot this summer and that makes the church feel crowded even though there are only forty families in our church. The babies cry and the preacher talks and then they all do it some more. When church is finished, everyone stands outside looking tidy and uncomfortable in the heat.
Iâm always happy to get in the car. Iâve been hot, still, and bored long enough.
âWhat now?â my dad asks as he turns the key in the ignition.
âI thought we might go see Granddad,â Mom says.
I smile. I like Grandfatherâs place. Itâs quiet and sunny and nobody bothers you. I get to be with him and hang out. He listens to the stuff I donât tell anyone else and most often he agrees.
We pull in at the gate and Dad opens the car doors and as usual everyone scatters. Matt heads off to look at the flowers. Dad trails after me to see Grandfather. Sometimes, after church, there are other grown-ups around the gate and he stops to talk with them. Today is one of those times. So I get to say hi to Grandfather on my own.
âI did what you told me,â I say, squatting on the grass beside him. Even though I donât like the dirt, I dig my fingers into the ground like I can reach after him. I want to get closer to him.
I lean against the stone that marks his place, shifting plastic flowers out of my way, and I can tell he approves. At the other end of the cemetery, Mom is still chasing after Matt.
Little kids are so annoying.
Blood Sisters
Matt Cowens
M y step-motherâs cooking gave me a taste for human flesh. We dined on placenta for weeks after I was born, and she taught me to shave rashers off my family while they slept.
I grew up fast, the first time.
My step-mother collected me from the hospital the day I was born, swapping me for her own daughter, while my mother was asleep. My step-mother doesnât want to teach me how to change size yet. All I know is that she shrunk me, twisted and grew her own baby to look just like me, and placed her in the incubator. The next day we left the hospital in my fatherâs coat pocket, the stolen placenta in a knapsack.
I grew fast on my step-motherâs milk; nearly three inches in a week. I learned to walk and talk before my birth-mother was discharged from the hospital. When she got home my brother Timothy asked, âMummy, whereâs my sister?â
âRight here, sweetie,â my birth-mother replied, showing him the little changeling bundled in a pink blanket.
âThatâs not my sister! Thatâs a monster, like the little fairy woman who tried to kill me.â
My birth-mother laughed, but it was
âYouâve got to help,â I told Matt. He just snivelled, so I told him to hold the shovel and he did. But he wouldnât stop crying. I didnât even punch him.
The cat only yowled for a short time. It was a horrible noise. I wouldnât practise on a cat again unless I could keep it quiet. Pretty soon though I had covered it and you couldnât hear anything. I took the shovel off Matt, in case. The cat didnât come up. Matt ran away, but I watched the hole a long time to make sure the cat never dug its way out. Nothing happened and nobody noticed the hole. So that worked.
Every Sunday we go to St Andrews Church. Itâs hot this summer and that makes the church feel crowded even though there are only forty families in our church. The babies cry and the preacher talks and then they all do it some more. When church is finished, everyone stands outside looking tidy and uncomfortable in the heat.
Iâm always happy to get in the car. Iâve been hot, still, and bored long enough.
âWhat now?â my dad asks as he turns the key in the ignition.
âI thought we might go see Granddad,â Mom says.
I smile. I like Grandfatherâs place. Itâs quiet and sunny and nobody bothers you. I get to be with him and hang out. He listens to the stuff I donât tell anyone else and most often he agrees.
We pull in at the gate and Dad opens the car doors and as usual everyone scatters. Matt heads off to look at the flowers. Dad trails after me to see Grandfather. Sometimes, after church, there are other grown-ups around the gate and he stops to talk with them. Today is one of those times. So I get to say hi to Grandfather on my own.
âI did what you told me,â I say, squatting on the grass beside him. Even though I donât like the dirt, I dig my fingers into the ground like I can reach after him. I want to get closer to him.
I lean against the stone that marks his place, shifting plastic flowers out of my way, and I can tell he approves. At the other end of the cemetery, Mom is still chasing after Matt.
Little kids are so annoying.
Blood Sisters
Matt Cowens
M y step-motherâs cooking gave me a taste for human flesh. We dined on placenta for weeks after I was born, and she taught me to shave rashers off my family while they slept.
I grew up fast, the first time.
My step-mother collected me from the hospital the day I was born, swapping me for her own daughter, while my mother was asleep. My step-mother doesnât want to teach me how to change size yet. All I know is that she shrunk me, twisted and grew her own baby to look just like me, and placed her in the incubator. The next day we left the hospital in my fatherâs coat pocket, the stolen placenta in a knapsack.
I grew fast on my step-motherâs milk; nearly three inches in a week. I learned to walk and talk before my birth-mother was discharged from the hospital. When she got home my brother Timothy asked, âMummy, whereâs my sister?â
âRight here, sweetie,â my birth-mother replied, showing him the little changeling bundled in a pink blanket.
âThatâs not my sister! Thatâs a monster, like the little fairy woman who tried to kill me.â
My birth-mother laughed, but it was
Similar Books
