Storytellersunplugged

Hi all, it’s been busy times at the soap factory, so I haven’t had time to do up a column for this entry. So instead I thought I’d share this kid’s horror story with you.

Skeleton Eater

By Edwin McRae
Let me tell you a little fairy-tale, one that you probably haven’t heard before, one that definitely hasn’t been turned into a movie by Disney…yet. It’s a story about Danny, a young boy from a land not very far away and a big, bad giant that ate children. Interested? Good. I knew the child eating would get your attention. Now, where was I?

Danny’s Grandad called the giant, ‘mechanical stairs’, in the same way that he called movies, ‘moving pictures’, and the radio, ‘the wireless’. Danny’s Dad called it ‘an escalator’. Danny, his Latin at six being a bit rusty, called it the Skeleton Eater.

There was a story, told in secret hideouts on rainy days, about a boy called Tim. Tim got lost. Danny’s Dad talked about it over their big pieces of paper covered in squished ants.

Tim got lost in H&J’s, the big shop with the best toy place in the universe on the second floor. It had Lego castles and space stations as tall as the roof, beach parties of Barbies, enough plastic swords and shields to attack Troy, magic tricks, board games, cuddly bears and bunnies, Thomas the Tank Engine train sets and every X-man in mutantdom.

Danny’s Dad with the big paper with the squished ants said that he must have been kidnapped. Sarah from school, with the fuzzy ginger hair and freckly nose said ‘kidnapped’ meant when a kid had a spell cast on them by an evil witch and they had to go to sleep for a hundred years in the middle of a thorn bush until a prince came along and kissed them. Danny thought that was pretty dumb if the sleeping kid was a boy. And besides, no kidnapping witch got Tim. Danny saw it himself.

The Skeleton Eater got him.

That’s what happens when you don’t jump. The Skeleton Eater has teeth. Any kid with a brain could see that. Adults couldn’t see the teeth because they lost their brains. Instead they have stuff in their heads called, ‘bizzyness’, like lots of bees humming around and making honey puffs.

The teeth were at the top and the bottom of the Skeleton Eater. That was where the creepy green light came from, the green fire that lived in the monster’s belly and burned up all the clothes and meat and skin and eyes so that the bones could be ground into bread. Just like the giant in Jack and the Beanstalk. Danny could hear those bones - rumble, rumble, scrape, scrape - as the stairs came out the bottom like a big, licking tongue.

The trick was to jump - rule one in the Survival in the Big Bad World of Stuff that’s Bigger than You Handbook. Danny, and all the other kids, had to jump over the teeth or the Skeleton Eater would grab them by the toes. An adult was needed for this. Their heads were full of bizzyness but they could be used to swing on for extra height.

Tim didn’t use an adult. Danny saw him from the H&J’s underwear shop. He saw Tim at the bottom of the Skeleton Eater. He saw him look up at the best toy place in the universe. He saw Tim crouch, ready to jump. But he didn’t have an adult to swing on. Where were Tim’s Mum and Dad?

Danny heard the Skeleton Eater rumble, a big bad monster chuckle. Danny tried to call out to Tim but the words got stuck sideways in his throat, just like in the dream when he was being chased by the ugly tree, when his legs went rubbery and slow. He couldn’t do anything but hide in the underwear shop and watch Tim jump.

Tim’s toes went first, eaten from one to ten, all the little piggies gone into the wolf’s belly. Then up to his bees knees, rumble rumble, scrape scrape. Tim waved his arms, screamed and cried and wriggled his fingers. No one but Danny saw or heard him. Up to his Elvis pelvis, up to his spare ribs, up to his chicken neck, up to his Adam’s apple, up to his nutty noggin.

Then Tim was gone and the Skeleton Eater spoke to Danny in its big bad chuckling voice. “Yum, yum, Danny.” Rumble rumble, scrape scrape. “Yum, yum.”

Danny wet himself. Danny’s Mum said some bad words, her eyes went dark and she bundled him away. Danny cried all the way home.

The next week, Danny’s Mum took him to H&Js. When it came time to go up to the best toy place in the universe, Danny looked at the Skeleton Eater. The Skeleton Eater looked back, it’s glowing green eyes peeking between pointed steel teeth. The great, stairy tongue licked upwards and Danny heard the voice again.

“Yum, yum, Danny.” Rumble rumble, scrape scrape. “Yum, yum.”

Danny wet himself and cried all the way home.

Danny’s Mum took him to see a Doctor - a white coat with prodding fingers that smelled like the old bander-paper at school. He wished he had an apple in his pocket. They asked him what was wrong. He told them about the Skeleton Eater. They chuckled and Mum told him he had a wonderful imagination but that this was not the time to be silly. Danny told them again. The white coat frowned and shook his head. Mum’s eyes got dark and she told him he was being a very silly boy and to stop it at once! Danny told them all it was true, because it was, and you’re always supposed to tell the truth. The white coat wrote a note that said Danny had to go to a Sky-lolly-gist.

Danny didn’t know what a ‘gist’ was - maybe a hairy monster like Grover from Sesame Street. But he liked the sound of ‘sky-lollies’. When Mum and Danny got there, the Sky-lolly-gist did look like Grover. He had a hairy face and a big mouth. He asked Danny to draw some pictures. Danny drew the Skeleton Eater with extra big teeth. He asked Danny to tell him stories. Danny told him how the Skeleton Eater ate Tim. Danny asked about the sky-lollies. The ‘gist’ laughed and gave him a Minty. Then they made a song together.

Skeleton Eater, Skeleton Eater, you can’t hurt me.

Skeleton Eater, Skeleton Eater, you’re a buggy flea.

Skeleton Eater, Skeleton Eater, no more tears.

Skeleton Eater, Skeleton Eater, you’re just dumb stairs!

The Sky-lolly-gist said it was a spell Danny could cast to make the Skeleton Eater leave him alone. Danny heard the Sky-lolly-gist say to Mum that it was ‘a method of countering situational conditioning and reconfiguring the contextual triggers that had manifested from the trauma of losing his friend.’ Danny didn’t know what that meant but he liked the song.

The next week they went to H&Js. Danny’s Mum bought a card with a blue bird on it for sick Aunty Celia. Then it was time to go to the best toy place in the universe. The great stairy tongue licked and licked. The green eyes glowed through the sharp steel teeth.

“Yum, yum.” Rumble rumble, scrape scrape. “Yum, yum.”

Danny felt his eyes get wet and he really really wanted to go wees. But then he sniffed back his tears, crossed his legs and sang in a loud and only a bit trembly voice.

Skeleton Eater, Skeleton Eater, you can’t hurt me.

Skeleton Eater, Skeleton Eater, you’re a buggy flea.

Skeleton Eater, Skeleton Eater, no more tears.

Skeleton Eater, Skeleton Eater, you’re just dumb stairs!

Then he held tight to his Mum’s hand, closed his eyes and jumped…

Mum bought him a Decepticon called Ramjet that could change from a rubber-nosed jet plane into a big-fisted robot. She was very proud of him. He was proud of him too. He made whooshing sounds all the way home.

Danny taught all of the other kids his song. Month after month went by. Kids closed their eyes, sang Danny’s song, and swung over the glowing teeth on adults full of bizzyness. And for those months, none of them had their skeleton’s eaten either.

One day, Danny lost his Mum. One minute she was standing there, picking through socks in H&Js. The next minute she was gone, vanished like the big cat in Alice in Wonderland. Danny knew that his Mum wasn’t magical, like the big cat from Alice in Wonderland. She was a Mum. Maybe someone had thrown a bucket of water her and she’d melted. But she wasn’t a witch either.

She was lost! Danny tried to ignore the sinking feeling in his tummy and the watery feeling in his eyes. He searched for her through the underwear place. She wasn’t there. He ran through the smelly shop with the lady’s face paint and the little bottles that made him sneeze. She wasn’t there. He wandered through a forest of hanging clothes and plastic people that stared at him, some of which were only half people, some with no arms or legs. She wasn’t there. He sniffed back tears and searched through the bookshop, passing the card stand where they had bought the blue birdy card that tweeted when you opened it for sick Aunty Celia. She wasn’t there, or there.

The word ‘help’ got stuck sideways in his throat and made a big lump. Some tears got past the sniffing and ran down his cheeks. He wanted to go to the toilet. But Danny knew he had to be brave. Mum was lost and needed him to find her. And there was just one more place left to look.

He walked back through the bookshop, back through the hanging clothes and plastic people, back through the smelly shop, back through the underwear, and stood, hands on hips glaring at the Skeleton Eater.

“Yum, yum.” Rumble, rumble, scrape, scrape. “Yum, yum,” said the Skeleton Eater.

Danny wiped the tears away and looked up at the best toy place in the universe. Mum must have gone to buy him a present and got lost up there, probably in the Barbie Dolls where it’s all pink and you go blind if you look at them too long. Or maybe in the cuddly toy bit where all those eyes look at you like you’re in the jungle and people always get lost in the jungle.

“Yum, yum.” Rumble, rumble, scrape, scrape. “Yum, yum,” said the Skeleton Eater.

Danny took a deep breath. “I’m not scared of you!” he told the Skeleton Eater, squeezing the words around the ‘help’ that was stuck sideways in his throat. Then he sang his song.

Skeleton Eater, Skeleton Eater, you can’t hurt me.

Skeleton Eater, Skeleton Eater, you’re a buggy flea.

Skeleton Eater, Skeleton Eater, no more tears.

Skeleton Eater, Skeleton Eater, you’re just dumb stairs!

He got himself ready, crouching his little legs a bit, stretching his arms out. With no adult to help, he would have to make this jump really, really good. But Tim did that and he got his skeleton eaten, said a high, whiney voice in his head. He looked down at the long steel teeth and the sickly, glowing green of the Skeleton Eater’s eyes. He followed the stairy tongue as it lolled upwards to disappear under the second set of long, sharp teeth at the top.

“Yum, yum.” Rumble, rumble, scrape, scrape. “Yum, yum,” said the Skeleton Eater.

But Tim didn’t have a magic song! He breathed deeply, thought of his Mum’s hugs and how happy she would be when he rescued her from the jungle. He clenched his little fists, grit his baby teeth, and jumped.

Danny flew through a world of slow motion, like a rugby player on the telly scoring a try. The green light glared hungrily below him, wanting to pull out his bones and grind them into yummy monster-meal, wanting to leave his empty skin splattered on the ground like an empty balloon, or like the chicken skin he always left on the side of his place because it tasted slimy.

In the air he blinked, waggled his fingers, stuck out his tongue, everything he could think of to make him go just a little bit further. He left foot touched the rising step. The right foot came in a little lower.

His shin banged against the sharp edge of the step hard enough to break skin. Pain squeezed tears from his eyes. He looked down and squealed. The long, sharp teeth were reaching for his heel. He jerked it away, lost balance and fell forwards onto the step. He scrambled to his feet, wide-eyed as a rabbit. The stairs carried him upwards, away from the teeth and the glaring green lights.

A shriek of triumph unstuck the ‘help’ from his throat. He’d made it, jumped over the Skeleton Eater all by himself. His shin hurt, his cheeks were wet, but now he was safely riding the stairy tongue.

Danny rose, and rose, and rose. He looked out from the height of the Skeleton Eater and saw the whole world stretching out below him. Bright and flowery fields of woman’s underwear. Plastic people and the dark and gloomy forest of men’s suits. The bookshop with all the books on the shelves waving at him like fans in a stadium. The glittery place with the lady’s face paint and the little bottles that made him sneeze, standing out like a smelly fairy-tale castle in the middle.

He felt like the king of it all. Danny, champion of the world. Jack climbing up the beanstalk, and the big bad giant was already a goner. He had jumped the Skeleton Eater. No way were his bones going to be made into bread. Fee, fi, fo -

“Yum, yum.” Rumble, rumble, scrape, scrape. “Yum, yum,” said the Skeleton Eater.

Danny spun about, mouth open. The momentary reign of Danny the First fell into history. The Skeleton Eater grinned greenly. Danny had forgotten the second set of long and sharp teeth.

Four steps.

“Skeleton Eater, Skeleton Eater, you can’t hurt me,” he squeaked. The words had grown fat and ugly with fear. They were too big.

“Skeleton Eater, Skeleton Eater…you’re…you’re…you’re…”

Three steps.

The words crashed on his teeth like punctured zeppelins.

“Skeleton skeater…skellion tater…!”

Two steps.

He couldn’t remember. His little brain turned to run. His little body followed, but there was nowhere to go.

One step.

“Mum, Mum! Help me! Hel-”

Shiny teeth gripped Danny’s sneaker, sank into his toes. The tongue drew him inwards, up to his spindle shins, to his bees knees, his Elvis pelvis, spare ribs, chicken neck, Adam’s apple, nutty noggin. In just a few moments, Danny’s skeleton got eaten.

“Yum, yum, Danny.” Rumble, rumble, scrape, scrape. “Yum, yum.”

Now, like all good fairy-tales, new and old, fresh and foul, truth or lie, there’s always a moral. Is it be nice short people in the forest? Is it, don’t be an evil witch or you will get melted, or have a house drop on you, or be thrown into an oven? Is it, be brave, climb the beanstalk, fight the bad guys and get the golden goose?

The other kids still sing Danny’s song, every time they go on a Skeleton Eater.

Skeleton Eater, Skeleton Eater, you can’t hurt me.

Skeleton Eater, Skeleton Eater, you’re a buggy flea.

Skeleton Eater, Skeleton Eater, no more tears.

Skeleton Eater, Skeleton Eater, you’re just dumb stairs!

And they always, always swing on an adult whose head is full of bizzyness. That’s the moral of the story. Remember it in your nutty noggin, or you might get your skeleton eaten!

In memory of Tim and Danny.