Creep Street by John Marsden Read Free Book Online

there’s no Mortein left.
    All around you are little smouldering cremated spiders. There must be hundreds, maybe thousands of them. Through the smoke you see Stacey. She’s staggering to her feet. She comes towards you. You’re not sure if maybe you should grab the cross again but she looks pretty normal now. She’s smiling and she reaches out and takes your hand.
    â€˜Thank you,’ she says.
    â€˜What was that all about?’ you ask.
    She explains: ‘Years ago my great-great-grandfather looted the tomb of an Egyptian Pharaoh. It was full of these little spiders. They bit him hundreds of times. He recovered, but what no-one realised was that they had laid their eggs under his skin. In time they hatched, and made their homes inside his body. And he passed the affliction on to each new generation. Since then our family has been cursed by the Pharaoh’s spiders. They gradually drive people mad.’ She shuddered. ‘They make you do the strangest things, behave in the strangest ways. The only cure is the cross and the fire. But it has to be someone who is innocent of the curse, who knows nothing about it, who can save us.’ She hugs you. ‘You’ve saved my life.’
    â€˜Well, that’s great,’ you say, as your nostrils fill with smoke and a strange red glow starts to envelop the building. ‘But . . . um . . . hadn’t we better get out of here before the church burns down?’

ou gradually drift into the most relaxing sleep you’ve ever had. You seem to sleep for a long time, but it’s hard to tell with sleep, of course. You know you do have dreams, lots of wonderful dreams. Especially you dream of your family and your school and your old house, the one you left to come to the new place. And, funnily enough, you dream of Stacey—only in the dreams she’s a witch and she’s really horrible and all her teeth are long and green and pointy, and she’s waving a strange-looking stick and shouting long words at you, words you’ve never heard before, that don’t seem to make any sense.
    Then you wake up.
    You feel pretty weird, like it’s hard to move, like your limbs won’t do what you want them to do. You stretch slowly and open your eyes and look around. The car seems colder now and the light is dimmer. You can barely see the shiny brown plastic dashboard or the big black steering wheel. You gaze out the window, feeling a little anxious. ‘What’s going on?’ you wonder.
    It’s misty out there but you gradually see someone coming towards the car. It’s a man dressed in some kind of Alfoil. Must be on his way to a fancy dress party. He’s walking really carefully though, like he’s nervous of something. What’s he doing on your property? You make your left arm move and you open the door of the car.
    As soon as the man sees you he jumps back like he’s terrified. What a loony! Must be the local cracker case.
    â€˜Can I help you?’ you ask politely.
    â€˜Who . . . who are you?’ he stammers.
    â€˜It’s our house,’ you say. ‘We’ve just bought this place. Well, at least my parents have.’
    The man goes all pale and looks like he’s about to faint.
    â€˜But who are you?’ he asks again. ‘What is this vehicle, and why are you wearing those strange clothes?’
    â€˜Me?!’ you say indignantly. ‘Hey, I’m not the one in the strange clothes. You look like you could bake a chicken in your costume. I mean, sure, you’ve got a right to wear what you want, but if I had an outfit like . . .’
    You’ve stopped talking. You’re standing there staring past him. There’s a good reason for that. The mist’s just cleared and you’re looking at your own house. Or rather, where your house used to be. Now there’s no sign of it. Not a trace. Not a brick, not a splinter of wood, not a pot