and watched the sparks floating up into the dark sky over the roof of our house.
Everyone cheered when the firemen put out the last of the flames and Nana made them all cups of tea.
“How in the world did our shed catch on fire?” asked Nana.
“Sheds don’t just burst into flame on their own,” said the Fire Chief.
“Och, that’s right enough!”
“I think it’s reasonably certain that someone left a candle burning in there.”
“A candle? But no one was in the shed.”
“Well, someone was in there and that person left a candle burning on the shelf.”
“It was me!” I shouted.
So I deserved to be locked in the cellar. And they took away my matches. The Fire Chief said that he should really call the police and have me arrested and I would go to jail. I don’t want to go to jail and never see my mum and dad again so it is better that I am locked in the cellar in the dark.
And it’s here with me. It’s whispering.
Drip, drip, drip.
But I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want to hear it whisper. I want it to kill my sister. Not me. Go into her bedroom again and kill her. Go inside her head like all those other voices.
Sometimes I think I can feel it. It feels like something is touching my arm in the dark. I can’t scream because then it will hear me and know where I am. Even though it has eyes bulging out of its head, I don’t think it can see. Nana says we would all go blind if we lived in the dark. That thing has been living in the dark for a long time. Blind in the dark.
Dear Jesus, save me. Please, Jesus.
17
I must apologize to everyone for burning down the shed—and I must pay for it. Nana has given me a pair of her bloomers and one of Pop’s shirts. It’s the one he spilt his tomato soup on last week and the stain won’t come out. He can only eat soup now because Nana has taken away his teeth because his tongue no longer fits in his mouth and he kept biting it.
She has also given me a Woolworth’s paper bag, six pairs of my dad’s socks, and all of last week’s copies of the Daily Mirror . I have to screw up all the newspaper and stuff it down her bloomers. And Nana has taken her lipstick out and she has drawn a face on the paper bag, which makes it look a little bit like a clown.
Emily is helping me and Nana says we have to make a gruesome tortured Guy, which we will then take out and ask for a, “Penny for the Guy!” A long time ago, a man called Guy Fawkes tried to blow up the Houses of Parliament but they caught him and tortured him and hanged him. Nana said they were supposed to cut out his guts while he was still alive but he jumped off the scaffold and broke his neck. I would not want someone to cut out my guts while I was still alive but I would also not like to be hanged. Nor do I know why someone would want to take off his shoes and hang himself in the toilet with his tie until his eyes bulged out like marbles when he was just supposed to be going for a wee. And then stay in the corner of our cellar waiting for a chance to kill us all in our beds.
Nana said we have to make our Guy look very realistic if we want to get a lot of pennies for the Guy but this is hard to do when he is wearing her knickersand has a face that looks like a clown. However, Pop has started talking to the Guy so it must be quite realistic. Mind you, Pop also talks to the kettle.
I would like Mum and Dad to see our Guy but they are both in bed asleep. Mum is working the night shift and Dad spends most of the day in bed because he is up half the night playing funeral music on his organ to annoy that woman next door who is spying on us.
But I really want Mum and Dad to see our Guy.
“Och, that’s nae bother,” Nana said. “Go and wake them up! They’ll not mind. Show them your Guy!”
The Guy is actually bigger than me but I dragged it up the stairs with Emily and I was careful not to step in the hole because that would mean I would have to stay there with my foot caught for the rest of
Everyone cheered when the firemen put out the last of the flames and Nana made them all cups of tea.
“How in the world did our shed catch on fire?” asked Nana.
“Sheds don’t just burst into flame on their own,” said the Fire Chief.
“Och, that’s right enough!”
“I think it’s reasonably certain that someone left a candle burning in there.”
“A candle? But no one was in the shed.”
“Well, someone was in there and that person left a candle burning on the shelf.”
“It was me!” I shouted.
So I deserved to be locked in the cellar. And they took away my matches. The Fire Chief said that he should really call the police and have me arrested and I would go to jail. I don’t want to go to jail and never see my mum and dad again so it is better that I am locked in the cellar in the dark.
And it’s here with me. It’s whispering.
Drip, drip, drip.
But I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want to hear it whisper. I want it to kill my sister. Not me. Go into her bedroom again and kill her. Go inside her head like all those other voices.
Sometimes I think I can feel it. It feels like something is touching my arm in the dark. I can’t scream because then it will hear me and know where I am. Even though it has eyes bulging out of its head, I don’t think it can see. Nana says we would all go blind if we lived in the dark. That thing has been living in the dark for a long time. Blind in the dark.
Dear Jesus, save me. Please, Jesus.
17
I must apologize to everyone for burning down the shed—and I must pay for it. Nana has given me a pair of her bloomers and one of Pop’s shirts. It’s the one he spilt his tomato soup on last week and the stain won’t come out. He can only eat soup now because Nana has taken away his teeth because his tongue no longer fits in his mouth and he kept biting it.
She has also given me a Woolworth’s paper bag, six pairs of my dad’s socks, and all of last week’s copies of the Daily Mirror . I have to screw up all the newspaper and stuff it down her bloomers. And Nana has taken her lipstick out and she has drawn a face on the paper bag, which makes it look a little bit like a clown.
Emily is helping me and Nana says we have to make a gruesome tortured Guy, which we will then take out and ask for a, “Penny for the Guy!” A long time ago, a man called Guy Fawkes tried to blow up the Houses of Parliament but they caught him and tortured him and hanged him. Nana said they were supposed to cut out his guts while he was still alive but he jumped off the scaffold and broke his neck. I would not want someone to cut out my guts while I was still alive but I would also not like to be hanged. Nor do I know why someone would want to take off his shoes and hang himself in the toilet with his tie until his eyes bulged out like marbles when he was just supposed to be going for a wee. And then stay in the corner of our cellar waiting for a chance to kill us all in our beds.
Nana said we have to make our Guy look very realistic if we want to get a lot of pennies for the Guy but this is hard to do when he is wearing her knickersand has a face that looks like a clown. However, Pop has started talking to the Guy so it must be quite realistic. Mind you, Pop also talks to the kettle.
I would like Mum and Dad to see our Guy but they are both in bed asleep. Mum is working the night shift and Dad spends most of the day in bed because he is up half the night playing funeral music on his organ to annoy that woman next door who is spying on us.
But I really want Mum and Dad to see our Guy.
“Och, that’s nae bother,” Nana said. “Go and wake them up! They’ll not mind. Show them your Guy!”
The Guy is actually bigger than me but I dragged it up the stairs with Emily and I was careful not to step in the hole because that would mean I would have to stay there with my foot caught for the rest of
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