Nightmares in the Dreamhouse Read online

  Nightmares in the Dreamhouse

  1. a dark and ugly shape against the sky

  2. he frightens me

  3. zombies - real ones

  4. a trampling of heavy feet

  5. not speaking, not moving, not waking

  6. you have to wake up

  7. you'll really like this one, Karen

  8. he was scared, really scared

  9. we couldn't move. It was like being in a trap

  10. we'll find you, Titchy

  11. fantastic!

  12. you might find a vampire

  13. we'd kill ‘em if they tried that

  14. Abigail, white-faced, stumbled along the row

  15. I'm scared John. It's horrible

  16. they're going to kill me. They don't care

  17. a weird figure appeared

  18. welcome to the House of Horror

  19. three weeks that had passed like a dream

  20. he wasn't cold, but his teeth chattered

  21. not dead, but not living either

  22. get ‘em Sooty! she screamed

  23. Matthew took one step towards it. He had to see

  24. it's only horror. You're supposed to enjoy it

  25. from the moment he stepped out into the street he was being followed

  26. and the chalk dust stuck to the sweat on his face as his hand worked faster and faster

  27. it's them. Them two. They're here!

  28. it's not safe any more

  29. I can hear Roy coming up the stairs

  30. he felt like a hunted animal

  31. Nurse! he yelled. Nurse!

  32. and then the explosion

  33. you did! she screamed. You knew

  34. they've got to get out. It's all going up

  NIGHTMARES

  IN THE

  DREAMHOUSE

  by

  DAVID CHURCHILL

  Bullied and made to do things that they don't want to do, Matthew and his three friends, Gary and Abby and Cherry, have more than enough to worry about. But when Matthew's older brother has a dreadful accident and can't help him, things get worse. Running and hiding in desperation, the four friends stumble upon the best den in the world, a perfect refuge from danger, a place where they can live out their dreams. But before long the dreams turn to nightmare…

  Nightmares in the Dreamhouse

  Copyright © 2011 by David Churchill

  All rights reserved.

  Communications regarding this book to be addressed to [email protected] subject line “Dreamhouse”

  www.fishing-forever.co.uk

  1. a dark and ugly shape against the sky

  Behind Matthew, his mother screamed.

  But only a minute before, the three of them had been happily standing on the highest ridge of White Horse Hill, watching John, in black and yellow flying gear, pausing to adjust his helmet. Matthew had seen how his big brother leaned forward then, to balance the pull of the harness, as wind began to fill the scarlet canopy spread on the grass behind him. He saw him take one... two... three steps down the steep slope until his feet, still striding, left the ground.

  “He's up!” Matthew shouted, thumping Gary on the back. “We have lift-off.”

  “Sh!” Mrs Clifton said. “You'll distract him.” But as she stood there in the sunny wind, even her quiet face had a sparkle. It was exciting. Suddenly though, she missed her husband more than ever. “Your Dad would have wanted a go at that,” she said, but Matthew didn't hear. He was staring up into the sky, wondering what it must be like...

  Already the para-glider was sweeping John higher, in a long slanting rise, off from the ridge and out over the stubble fields below. Up there, his younger brother's voice, if he could hear it at all, must have been no more than a whisper, carried away by the wind that poured up over the hill's blunt edge.

  Matthew watched entranced, seeing him begin to turn, waiting for the moment when he could hang, using the updraft, before making a long accelerating run down the length of the chalk ridge.

  But something peculiar happened. There was an unexpected gust of wind that spun leaves in a circle round Matthew's feet, a twisting surge of air that came up the face of the hill with so much force that it made him stagger and grab hold of Gary's solid arm. When he looked up again for John, he saw him poised, for that moment almost motionless in the sky, but even as he looked the freak air current caught him. The scarlet canopy turned sharply, folded, and began to rotate faster than his body could, the lines twisting and tightening above him. And then, hopelessly struggling to gain control, he was falling, a dark and ugly shape against the sky. Trailing a mass of lines, a fluorescent yellow bundle came streaking out from the harness, a yellow bag fell away, and his reserve parachute began to develop - too late. With a dreadful, heart-stopping yell he plummeted down, the tangled canopy flickering and crackling like flame above him.

  Horrified, Matthew stumbled a few steps along the slope, reaching out his arms in a futile attempt to pillow his brother from the hard chalk hill that was rushing up to meet him.

  Behind him, his mother screamed.

  2. he frightens me

  Days and days and days had gone by since the accident. Weird days with hospital visits, and meals missed, and the phone going all the time, and Mum in a world of her own and the house feeling cold and quiet. There had been a couple of days divided between home and hospital and not having to go to school at all, then he'd had to go back. School had seemed really strange at first, with all the noise, and the teachers' voices, and nothing seeming to make much sense.

  But after a while a new pattern had taken over, and playing football this afternoon Matt had almost forgotten the other world he was living in.

  “Lock the changing room and put the key in my tray,” Mr. Wells had said as he went off for his coffee. “Gary's going to be here all day.”

  As usual, Gary was the last to finish changing. His round face was red and damp from the hot shower and the effort it had taken to sort his clothes out from the heap he had left them in before football. Now, as he picked up his trousers, his white school shirt came too, one sleeve trailing across the muddy floor. He didn't notice.

  “Are you going up the hospital tonight, Matt?” he was asking, as he struggled to drag his trousers up over wet shoes. “I'll come if you like - “

  He broke off as the door swung open and a face peered round it. It was Roy O'Keefe.

  Roy looked friendly. His healthy face smiled, white teeth flashing as he spoke.

  “Thought I'd catch you two here still. How's your brother then Matt? My Gran was reading all about it in the paper. Has he woke up yet?”

  Matthew mumbled, “No, not yet.”

  “That's a long kip... two weeks! Didn't that pop music get him going then? His favourite group and all? What's the matter with him?”

  Nervously, Matt looked up at Roy.

  “He's in a coma,” he said carefully, “but he's going to be all right.” Then he looked away as tears prickled in his eyes.

  Roy smiled and nodded. “Yes, well, that's good news. That's great. I wouldn't mind a couple weeks' doss myself. Anyway, what I was looking for you for was to give you a bit of news. We're startin' up again - me and Karen, now the nights are gettin' darker. Gonna have some fun - like last year remember? Only better this time. An' we don't want to leave you out. Get the old gang together, like.”

  He looked at Gary, who had struggled into his clothes and was pushing muddy football boots into his bag, on top of all the exercise books.

  “You too, Stig, even if you are a bit... you know!” He held his nose and sniffed loudly. Then he laughed as if it was all in fun. “Outside the off-licence, lik
e before. About seven. Don't forget. It'll take your mind off your brother Matt. See ya!”

  He picked up a slab of football-studded mud, lobbed it neatly into Gary's bag and was gone, the door banging behind him.

  Matthew looked at Gary. Then he looked at the door to make sure it was shut.

  “I don't like him,” he said quietly. “I used to, but I don't now. He's different.”

  “He frightens me,” Gary said. “That's my trouble. It's like my step-dad coming home. I can't help it... ”

  Matt said, “I don't want to be in a gang again. Knocking on doors was all right, but it got bad... he smashed that window... He doesn't care - ”

  “Setting fire to the rubbish was mad. It could've spread... ”

  “We'd have been caught... ”

  “Sent away... and it'd be us, not him or her... ”

  “They can't make us, can they?” Matthew asked.

  Gary mopped his face with a soggy grey towel. “They could,” he said. “'Cos I'm frightened of them. I couldn't say no - you know how I am - ”

  “It's got to be burning or breaking things,” Matthew said. “Or stealing. I don't want to do anything like that.” He was more sure now. “He used to be a good laugh, in the Juniors and starting last year. But since he moved in with his Gran – ”

  “See,” Gary interrupted, “they use us because we aren't tough. You're not very big and I get shaky. It's like Abby and Cherry - they can't stand up to Karen. She'll do anything he says. All the girls call her names because of her Mum. I used to feel sorry for her ‘cos I know what it's like. But Roy makes her nasty too. I reckon he only goes with her ‘cos her Mum gives her loads of money. I don't like her now even if she has masses of sweets and all. I'll be scared to be out in the dark with them.”

  Matthew looked worriedly at Gary. Usually cheerful despite his troubles, now his friend's face was full of distress.

  “It'll be OK,” he said, to comfort him. “We'll get out of it somehow. We'll stick together - and the girls. Abby'll think of something. They can't get all of us. Anyway, it might not be so bad - ”

  Then the school bell rang, loud and harsh, and they grabbed their bags and made for the door. Time for next lesson. Matthew locked the door and went off to put the key in Mr. Wells' tray. They had different classes to go to but neither of them was going to concentrate very well on what the teachers were saying. And, as usual, Gary was likely to end up sitting by himself.

  3. zombies - real ones

  The girls didn't have games at the same time as the boys, so Abigail and Cherry had got out of class fast to spend the break in the only half-private place in school - the girls' loo. Abby hitched herself easily up onto the window-sill and watched Cherry tug at the bunch of hair that stuck out from the top of her head like a tangle of black party streamers.

  “It's nearly a ponytail,” Cherry sighed. “When it grows a bit it will be.” She yanked the wiry curls out straight, but when she let go they coiled back onto her head like springs.

  Abby said, “It's stupid. You want a ponytail and I want curls all over.”

  She slid off the ledge and joined Cherry at the mirror, looking in disgust at her own long, straight, pale hair.

  “Yeah,” Cherry went on. “I want to be tall an' you want to be short.” She giggled. “We're definitely mad. But what I really want – really, really want – is a cat. Any cat. I'd like a sad one so I could make it happy.”

  “Why don't you get one then?”

  “'Cos my Dad reckons Moggy fur gives him the wheezes. It's a shame. But you wait. When I'm a vet with my own flat I'll have dozens! Hey Abbs, what did you tell your Aunty about detention last night? Did she have a fit?”

  “I just told the truth, didn't I. I said I was invited to take part in a special lesson. She thought it was great. She knows I'm a gifted child - it said so in my report.”

  “Yeah - on the page you writ! Good job she never saw what Winnie said about you. You wait ‘til open day!”

  “Oh, I'll think of something,” Abby said. “I'll organise a teachers' strike, or be very, very ill so she has to stay home and look after me. Mustn't upset the old duck. She's all I've got now Mum and Dad have joined the angels. After the crash she was brilliant. It's not her fault she went to the best school in the universe and came top. Hey - you gonna watch the horror film tonight? It looks ace in the paper. ‘The Creeping Dead'... it's all corpses coming to life. Zombies... real ones!”

  “If I saw that,” said Cherry shuddering, “I'd have to have the light on all night for months! I don't know how you can watch it. Does she really let you?”

  “ ‘Course she does. I have to, don't I, for my special study.”

  “But you're not doing a special study... are you?”

  “Yeah! Dramatic effects in film. It's for Art.”

  Cherry was just about to say, “If she believes that, she'll believe anything,” when the door opened softly behind them.

  They both glanced into the mirror over the sinks. Up there was Abigail's long face; lower, the round brown cheeks of Cherrylin. And between them, suddenly, the cold, pale-blue eyes, the flushed bony features, and the shaved, blond hair of Karen.

  Karen smiled, but only her mouth enjoyed the fun. Slowly, the two friends turned to face her. She smiled again, if it was a smile, and then looked sharply round to make sure there was no-one else in the room.

  When she spoke, her voice was husky, as if the cigarettes had got to her throat already.

  “Roy says we're gettin' together again,” she half-whispered.

  Cherry thought crossly, You never could hear her properly.

  “It's gonna be great. Roy's says he's got something special planned. The boys'll be there. All six of us again, just like before... Startin' tonight.”

  She produced a packet of cigarettes, plucked one out with her bitten purple nails and lit it with a match that she flicked into the nearest sink.

  Abby looked on in a sort of horrified admiration as Karen sucked the smoke in, and then blew it out in a soft, grey cloud. She wanted to say, “No, we're not coming,” but she couldn't get the words out. It used to be funny, mucking about with them, but Roy had changed - he still smiled and joked but he'd turned mean, as if he hated everyone really. But he was strong, and Karen just followed him anyway.

  Cherry was tugging at her hair, saying nothing.

  “Don't be late,” Karen whispered, and turned away into one of the cubicles to suck at her cigarette in peace.

  Their hair forgotten, Cherry and Abigail went out. As they did, the bell shrilled its message that it was time for the last lesson of Friday afternoon.

  4. a trampling of heavy feet

  Arriving home from school, Gary saw the huge black lorry outside his house as soon as he turned the corner. The colour left his cheeks and his feet began to drag along the pavement. He felt shaky and sick, and a cold sweat prickled out over his face.

  But it was hometime; he daren't be late or it would only make things worse. Reluctantly, he pushed open the back door and went in. The muddles were awful - even worse than usual.

  His Mum was sitting on the frayed chair in the corner, doing nothing. She was so still that he didn't see her at first. Her hands were clutching a handkerchief; she'd been crying again. Looking at him without speaking she raised her eyes to the ceiling. A trampling of heavy feet from above told him why.

  Then the trampling came downstairs. As they approached the door Gary's heart began to thump. The door banged open.

  Mr Watts was big. He had a big dark-jowled face and a big belly with a big leather belt round it. His voice was always loud.

  “I've been gone a week,” he yelled, “and what's been happening here? The place stinks!” Then his eye fell on Gary. “And what the devil's all that rubbish in your room, you mucky object?”

  Gary began, “It's my model Dad, I - ”

  But he wasn't allowed to go on.

  “Get it down here and in the bin. It's nothing but garbage. Go on - mo
ve.”

  As he took a step forwards, Gary ran for the stairs and stumbled up them. Below, he heard his step-father's hoarse, angry voice ranting on.

  Once in his room he felt safe for a moment. He looked sadly down at the model space station he had been building, using cardboard boxes and plastic cups. It wasn't very good but he'd had great plans for covering it in silver foil and then using it in a game. Probably he'd have bombed it in the end. That was what happened to most of his models, if they got that far.

  A fresh shout from below made him bend over and pick it up. He could only just get his arms round it, and it began to collapse in the middle when it came up from the floor. An old sugar carton broke off and fell, scattering sugar grains into the thin carpet. He scrunched the whole construction into a heap and stooped to pick up the sugar box. Two matchboxes fell then, so he kicked them under the bed.

  “Are you coming down, or do I have to come up?” roared the voice from the foot of the stairs.

  Thinking, He's not even been to the pub yet, Gary panted, “Just coming Dad,” and blundered down into the hallway and out towards the dustbin bag.

  Behind him the voice yelled on, not stopping for answers.

  “You want to pull yourself together. You haven't washed the clothes I left here last week, or his, and God knows they need it. No wonder the place stinks! What the hell's up with you both. You'd better watch it. There's other places I can live. One of these days I'll be gone for good... ”

  “If only,” Gary muttered to himself, struggling with a splitting plastic sack. “If only... ”

  5. not speaking, not moving, not waking

  It was an empty house that Matthew let himself into. He had expected that. But there wasn't any tea left for him. Not even a note. It felt cold, and too quiet. Mum must be at work on the late shift, and she'd go straight to the hospital from there.

  He wrinkled his forehead under the dark tufts of hair as he rummaged in the cupboard for bread and something to put on it. He was hungry then, but once he had spread peanut butter on half a dozen slices he suddenly lost his appetite. He had a cup of milk and a couple of slices stuck together in a sandwich and dumped the rest in the wastebin. It didn't matter.