Baby Teeth: Bite-sized tales of terror by Dan Rabarts Page A

you’re gone!’
    â€˜Awesome.’
    There was a sudden crash and a gargling croak. Everyone turned.
    The face hung in mid-air, tongue lolling, eyes bulging. The light shining upwards from the torch made it look pink, almost transparent.
    â€˜Eric! You scared the shit out of me!’
    Eric straightened his head and laughed. ‘You should’ve seen your faces!’ He picked up the chair and put it back by the table.
    â€˜Hey. Look at this.’ Josh pointed. Leaning against a cabinet at the far end of the room was a circular board. They cocked their heads to look at the five-pointed star scraped in the centre of its wooden surface. In a ring around the star were the numbers zero to nine. Around that, small rectangles were marked at regular intervals.
    â€˜What is it?’
    â€˜Dunno.’
    â€˜Let’s put it on the table.’
    â€˜Shit, it’s heavy!’
    â€˜We shouldn’t move things,’ said Bub.
    â€˜Well, they’re not going to fingerprint anyone for shifting furniture, are they?’
    â€˜We shouldn’t even be here. Mum says we’re not to cross the highway on our bikes.’
    â€˜Mum’s not going to find out,’ said Eric. ‘Not unless you blub, Bub.’
    â€˜Shut up, you two.’
    Mike’s face lit up. ‘I know what this is. It’s one of those ouija boards.’ Blank looks all round. ‘For contacting the spirits and stuff. I saw one on YouTube. There must be some letter cards around, as well.’ His beam danced wildly before settling on the cabinet. ‘Here.’ He took down a small black tin. In it were a deck of cards, two candles and a glass.
    â€˜My mum always reckoned that old lady was a witch,’ said Josh.
    â€˜Hey. Light those candles, eh. My batteries are nearly gone.’
    Mike counted the cards in the flickering light. ‘Twenty-two. Should be twenty-six. Four missing.’
    â€˜No kidding, Einstein,’ said Eric.
    â€˜What do you do with them?’ asked Josh.
    A siren sounded in the distance. They stood still, each holding his breath while it approached, then let out a collective sigh as the note changed and the vehicle went on its way.
    â€˜I don’t like this,’ said Bub. ‘We should go.’
    â€˜Go and watch the front then, if you’re scared,’ said Eric. ‘Let us know if anyone comes.’ As Bub left, Eric muttered ‘Wuss’ behind his back.
    *
    A lways know your way back. That’s what their dad had taught them on their hunting trips. Bub switched off his lamp and counted the paces down the corridor. Five steps, turn right, six steps, right again through the next door. They’d been in this lounge earlier, the first room they’d explored. Four steps straight ahead, round the coffee table, feeling his way. Four more paces in the pitch dark. He reached out his hand and took hold of the curtain, proud to have calculated correctly. He pulled it towards himself and slipped past it to the window. He let the heavy material fall behind him, cutting off the voices from the other room.
    The front garden was blanketed in shadow, but as his eyes grew accustomed to the dark, he could just pick out the real estate sign. Their bikes were well hidden behind the bushes. Even if someone did pass they’d have no idea anyone was in the house. Not unless they could see lights. Eric was an idiot. First thing he’d done when he climbed in the back window was try to switch on the kitchen light. Good job the electricity was off.
    Bub patted the bike lamp in his pocket and settled down in the silence.
    *
    â€˜S houldn’t they be in alphabetical order?’
    Mike had set out the cards in the rectangles, leaving four spaces at what he had described as ‘random intervals’.
    â€˜It doesn’t matter,’ Mike said firmly, trying to convince himself. He couldn’t actually remember.
    â€˜It won’t matter,’ said