The Creeper

Remember, you may not see me, but I shall be there … watching. You cannot hide from the Creeper …

Lucy is delighted when she spots the old audio tape in a second-hand bookshop: a spooky story, perfect for listening to on Halloween.

But then she and her friend Jack listen to the tape, and Lucy is suddenly really scared. For the story tells the frightening tale of the Creeper, a horrific monster formed from the ashes of a murdered man and bent on revenge against all wrongdoers. And Lucy has just done something truly terrible to her best friend.

Pete Johnson

Illustrated by David Wyatt

Chapter One

IT WAS HORRIBLE.

But I couldn’t just walk past it. Somehow, that terrible hand seemed to reach right out of the shop window and pull me closer to it. I stared upwards.

All the skin on the hand had peeled away while its fingertips were cracked and burnt and bent over like a claw.

A truly weird picture.

Below it were two words in shivery, orange writing: The Creeper. Then, in much smaller lettering: LISTEN – IF YOU DARE – TO A CLASSIC TALE OF HORROR.

I dared. Especially as it was Halloween next Thursday and Amy, my best friend, was sleeping over. My mum had planned a special Halloween meal, but she drew the line at letting us watch horror videos. She and Amy’s mum had ganged up together: they went on and on about how most videos just weren’t suitable for our age-group. Still, The Creeper was a cassette tape so that was all right. I wasn’t sure if Mum would agree.

Even so, I decided to buy it quickly while Mum and Dad were across the road looking at some old prints.

Inside the secondhand bookshop a man with a bushy, ginger beard sat at a table, a tray of tea and biscuits beside him. When I asked about The Creeper he took a massive gulp of tea, then ambled over to the window.

He picked up the tape, then wiped it on his jacket. I wondered how long it had been in that window. Six months? A year? Ten years? Now I was getting silly. But I liked the idea of The Creeper waiting patiently for ages and ages until I came along.

‘Sure you want this one?’ he asked doubtfully.

I nodded furiously. I just had to have that tape, even if it used up all my spending money. But in the end he only charged me two pounds for it – said it was in the sale.

As I was leaving he called after me, ‘Don’t listen to that tape on your own, will you?’ I think he was trying to be funny.

Outside, to my horror, I bumped straight into Mum. ‘Bought something good, Lucy?’ She beamed at me.

‘I think so.’

Mum undid the paper bag (which the man had carefully sellotaped). ‘Oh, Lucy, what’s this?’

‘It’s called a tape, Mum. Haven’t you seen one before? They’re quite common now.’

Mum groaned. ‘We bring you to London, let you browse around some of the best secondhand bookshops in the country and you buy this trash.’

‘You don’t know it’s trash.’ I was indignant.

‘Yes I do. Well, you can take it right back.’

‘I can’t do that,’ I said quietly, sulkily. ‘I’ve got to have something spooky for next Thursday. You’ve banned me from watching videos—’

‘I haven’t banned you,’ interrupted Mum.

‘Yes you have. Now you’re banning me from listening to tapes. I’m surprised you don’t keep me inside all day with a paper bag over my head.’

‘Now, that’s not fair,’ began Mum. Then Dad came over. Mum thrust the tape at him. ‘Will you look at what Lucy’s just bought?’

He gave a chuckle. ‘Well, that hand’s well and truly cooked.’ Then he read the back and whispered to Mum, ‘I don’t think you need worry. Look.’

I couldn’t make out what he was pointing at. But it seemed to calm Mum down instantly. A smile slowly formed as she murmured, ‘Before even our time,’ and handed the tape back to me. ‘I suppose it’s harmless enough, despite its lurid cover.’

Now I was the one who was worried. It wasn’t until I was back at my uncle and aunt’s house (where we were staying for the weekend) that I spotted what my dad had seen. It was tucked away right in the corner: FROM THE GOLDEN AGE OF RADIO COLLECTION. FIRST BROADCAST IN 1956.

1956.

I knew the tape would be a few years old but this meant it was medieval, prehistoric. No wonder Mum and Dad weren’t bothered. The Creeper would probably sound really corny and dated now.

Next day, as soon as we got home, I rushed upstairs to my bedroom and played the start of The Creeper.

There was a lot of hissing and crackling at first and my heart began to sink. Then a bell tolled. After which this man started to speak. He sounded ancient.

Greetings and welcome to my horror feast. Tonight I bring another story to chill your spine. But it comes with a special warning: if you are of a nervous disposition or easily scared it is best we say goodbye now.

There was a slight pause while the crackling started up again. Then he returned.

Still here? How brave you must be. He gave a wheezy laugh. For this evening I am bringing you face to face with the King of Terror. I dare not say his name aloud. Come a little closer and I shall whisper it to you … the Creeper.

A little chill crept down my spine.

Remember, you can’t hide from the Creeper. Wherever you are he will find you. One night, when you are least expecting it, you will hear a tapping noise … and it will be the Creeper.

At exactly that moment I heard a tapping sound. I nearly jumped out of my skin. Then my dad put his head round the door. ‘Phone call for you, Lucy.’ He paused. ‘Are you all right, love?’

‘Yes, fine,’ I said hastily. I didn’t want him thinking The Creeper was starting to scare me. I switched the tape off and sprinted downstairs.

‘It seems ages since I’ve spoken to you,’ said Amy.

‘A whole forty-eight hours,’ I said.

We speak every night on the phone – even the days we’re at school together, to my dad’s amazement. ‘What have you got left to tell each other?’ he exclaimed once. But somehow we never run out of things to say.

‘And I suppose,’ said Amy, ‘you’ve had a great time in London, while I’ve been stuck here watching puddles dry.’

‘You haven’t been out at all then?’ I asked. My heart was starting to thump now.

‘Well, yesterday the boiler burst, which was sort of exciting. So there’s been chaos here …’

‘But you haven’t seen …’ I wanted to ask her if she’d seen Natalie, but I changed it to ‘anyone’.

‘No, because I’ve had to help my mum …’

I heaved a sigh of relief. And before I go any further I want to explain something to you. I’m not one of those girls who think their best friend can only have one friend: herself. Truly, I’m not like that. If it was anyone else but Natalie. But I hate Natalie like poison.

She’s rich and spoilt, and oh so sly. She used to have a slave – sorry, friend – named Carla. Natalie would boast away to her for hours and – don’t ask me how she did it – but Carla could listen to it all without throwing up once. Then Carla moved away and ever since Natalie has been hunting for a new victim.

Now she’s found one: Amy.

Lately she’s started showering Amy with stupid little presents. And she makes a big deal of rushing over to Amy first with any news. (Natalie is the biggest gossip in my school.) She’s always hanging about with us. But I know I’m surplus to her requirements. And she wants me off the scene so it’s just her and Amy.

Yet I can’t prove anything without sounding catty and neurotic. Especially as, on the surface, Natalie is nice and friendly to me.

It doesn’t help either that I live in this tiny village, miles from anywhere (the average age of its inhabitants is ninety-four), and only see Amy outside school at weekends or on special occasions. While Amy lives quite near the school and so does Natalie. At night I often think about that, wondering if Natalie is round Amy’s house now spreading false rumours about me, with a sweet smile on her face as she does so. And sometimes I just can’t sleep for worrying. I tell myself I’m being pathetic but I still go on doing it.

Anyway, Amy hadn’t seen Natalie that weekend so I heaved a sigh of relief and started telling her about The Creeper.

‘So what exactly is the Creeper?’ asked Amy. ‘Is it just a hand?’

‘I’m not sure exactly.’

‘Maybe that hand scuttles about like a giant spider leaping off curtains at people when they’re least expecting it.’

‘Can you imagine being attacked by a hand?’ I said.

‘No, but it sounds excellent just the same,’ cried Amy, ‘exactly right for Halloween. But you mustn’t hear any more of it, otherwise you’ll be prepared. I want us to be scared together. Do you promise?’

‘Yes, OK,’ I replied. ‘We’ll hear it in my bedroom with just one candle flickering away … and I’ll decorate my room too.’

‘This is going to be so good,’ cried Amy.

Later that day I put the tape away in the bottom drawer of my cupboard so I wouldn’t be tempted to cheat and play it beforehand.

I was so looking forward to Halloween night.

But in the end nothing turned out as I’d expected.

Chapter Two

THE NEXT FEW days at school were ghastly – thanks to Natalie. Whenever I turned round there she was, pulling Amy away to whisper some rubbish in her ear.

Once I said to Amy, ‘It’ll be nice to have a conversation one day without Natalie butting in,’ but she just smiled and said, ‘Oh, Natalie’s all right.’ Amy seemed so different these days. She was changing into another person; someone who was more Natalie’s friend than mine.

And I didn’t know what to do about it. Then, on Thursday afternoon, something really bad happened.

Amy and I were walking out of school, when surprise, surprise, Natalie turned up and hissed, ‘Oh, Amy, can you come into town with me tomorrow after school? You’ve got to say yes, as I need your help. You see, I’ve got to buy …’

I couldn’t bear to listen to another word and slunk away. But I decided that when Amy came round to hear The Creeper tonight, I’d tell her how I was sick of Natalie trying to push me out all the time. Amy was just going to have to choose between Natalie and me.

Amy called out my name. But I didn’t turn round. There was no way I could say a word to her with Natalie’s big ears flapping.

Right now I just wanted to go home.

Usually my mum picked me up from school (there’s only about one bus a year to my village and that’s always late) but occasionally, if my dad finished work early, he’d turn up instead. Today was one of those days. He obviously didn’t think I’d seen him because he was parked quite a way down the road from the school. So he got out of the car and yelled my name as if I were lost at sea or something.

That was embarrassing enough, but worse, much worse, was to follow. You won’t believe what he was wearing.

He still had on the suit jacket he wore to work but underneath it – amazingly, bafflingly – were his red tracksuit bottoms. Now my dad’s tracksuit is an eyesore at the best of times, but worn with his suit jacket it plunged new depths of awfulness.

I called out to him, hoping he’d quickly get back in the car again and hide himself away. But no, he carried on leaning against the car, revealing to everyone his appalling taste in clothes.

Of course Natalie had to say, ‘What is your dad wearing, Lucy?’

I didn’t answer. But I knew I was turning bright red. I could hear Natalie and Amy whispering about my dad. Then Amy said, ‘He dresses like a prat.’ And they were both killing themselves laughing.

How dare Amy be so disloyal. And how dare she sneer at my dad just to keep in with Natalie. My dad’s always been really nice to her and given her masses of lifts. A terrible fury burned inside me.