Look out – it’s a brand new Scream Street short story…

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Eat the Meatles
By Tommy Donbavand

The ogre on duty at the stage door cracked his tattooed knuckles and ran a thick finger down the list of bands on his clipboard.  The collection of zombies on the other side of the barrier waited patiently.

“Nope,” he said, eventually.  “Your brain’s not down.  You’re not coming in!”

It was a big day at Trembly Stadium.  Thousands of werewolves, vampires, ghosts and more were crammed inside enjoying Dead Aid – the greatest concert the world of nightmares had ever seen.  Being head of security for such an event was a big responsibility; one which Spider intended to take seriously, even if his uniform was several sizes too small.

The tallest of the zombies stepped forward.  “But, we must be there!” he insisted, black eyeballs flashing.  “Look again.  We’re called Brain Drain…”

Cricking his neck from side to side, Spider took a deep breath and tried to stay calm.  Why was he the one getting all the idiots today?  He’d already had to turn away a shimmering phantom who’d tried to claim he was the spectral music promoter, Simon Howl.

“Look, I’ve told you – you’re not on the list!”

“There we are!” cried the band’s guitarist, pointing at a spot half-way down the sheet of paper.  “Brain Drain!”

Spider peered at the tiny writing.  “That says ‘Brian Drain,” he sniffed.  “Which one of you is Brian, then?”

“None of us!” snapped the tall zombie.  “I’m Vein – the singer.  This is Jazzpants our lead guitarist, Porridge is on bass, Tee plays harmonica and Twonk is the drummer.  We’re Brain Drain!”

“Says Brian Drain here…”

“That’s just a tie-pin!” said Twonk.

Spider’s brow furrowed.  “A what?”

“He means ‘typo,” Tee explained.  “It’s a misprint on the list – but it’s definitely us.  We’re due on stage straight after Lady Gargoyle.”

“And our instruments were delivered to our dressing room first thing this morning,” added Porridge.

“Alright,” said Spider reluctantly.  “I’ll let you in – but any trouble and you’ll be out of here faster than a turbo-charged goblin!”

#

“Ten…  Eleven…  Twelve…  Thirteen!” said Jazzpants.  “This is our dressing room.”

“Ooh, look!” exclaimed Twonk.  “We’re next door to Skelton John!”

Vein pulled open the door and the band stepped into the dressing room where they froze.  Lounging around the room were four huge, overweight trolls, each with a mop of jet-black hair flopping down over their eyes.  One of them was playing Porridge’s bass guitar, and another was cleaning between his toes with Twonk’s drumsticks.

“Er… I think you guys may be in the wrong room,” said Vein.

“Nah!” grunted one of the trolls, pushing a tiny pair of round glasses further up his massive nose.  “We’re havin’ this room.  Ours is too small.”

“I don’t care how small your room is,” Vein retorted.  “This is our dressing room!”

Porridge grabbed Vein’s arm and pulled him aside.  “Careful,” he hissed.  “They’re The Meatles!”

“Who?”

“The Flab Four!” continued Porridge.  “Chomp, Pork, Gorge and Bungo.”

Vein glanced back at the trolls, who were now picking nits from the hair on each other’s backs.  “And we’re supposed to let them have our dressing room because they’re famous?”

“Don’t be daft,” Porridge replied.  “We let them have our dressing room because they’re nasty!  They’re the band who gave The Black Eyed Fleas their black eyes!”

“I heard they used to go out on tour with the Sugar-Graves,” said Jazzpants quietly.  “That’s why the group has had so many members – these guys kept scaring them away!”

Vein sighed and rubbed at the decomposing skin on his forehead.  “OK,” he said, turning back to the trolls.  “We’ll take our instruments and go and find another room.”

“I don’t fink so,” gurgled the troll with the glasses.  “Your instruments are better than ours.  We’re keeping ‘em.”

“That’s not fair!” exclaimed Tee.  “They belong to us.  You have to give them back!”

The troll stood, his moptop haircut rustling as it pressed against the ceiling.  “And how are you gonna make us do that?”

Vein smiled pleasantly and closed the dressing room door.  “The only way zombies know how…”

#

Flashbulbs popped as newspaper reporters took photographs of Brain Drain at the after-show press conference.  The members of the band sat behind a long table, clutching their instruments.

A bog monster near the front of the crowd raised his gloopy hand.  “Fears Morgan – The Terror Times…  Can you tell me how it felt to step in and play the headline slot at Dead Aid after The Meatles failed to appear on stage?”

Vein pushed a pair of tiny round glasses up his nose and picked a piece of gristle from between his teeth with what looked like a large finger bone.  “Delicious!” he burped.

THE END

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Although I’m not particularly a zombie fan, I had to smile at this Zombie Love Song. Enjoy:

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This is a bit of nonsense I sometimes read out at the end of events. Just a nice thought to be going to bed with… G’night…

The Man with No Skin
Is glistening red,
There’s no skin on his bones
There’s no hair on his head.

His nails cracked and yellow,
His eyeballs stare white.
His skeleton grin
Is a horrible sight.

You can see his black heart
Pumping blood through blue veins
As muscles and tendons
Move his grisly remains.

His taps at your window
Scrapes at your door
Looking for skin
He don’t have anymore.

So pull up the covers
Wrap yourself tight
The man with no skin
Wishes you a goodnight

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Remember those classic children’s books you read as a kid?  Would you like to read them again?  Or what if you got the chance to actually live them…?

Booksurfers is an exciting new series (and one of those ideas I’m kicking myself for not having thought of!) by top children’s author, David Gatward (nightmare giving writer of the terrifyingly brilliant The Dead, The Dark and The Damned).  Published exclusively as ebooks (you’ll see why in a moment), the adventures feature Jake, Ryan, Becca and Harriet in their quest to save their parents from the quite despicable Dr Crookshanks and his ‘Cruella De Ville’ style accomplice, Professor Kaufman.  In order to do so, however, they will have to use a fantastic device known as the Nautilus to plunge inside some of the world’s greatest books and steal an important item from the plot.  How important, you ask?  Well – in the first adventure, the Booksurfers have to somehow acquire the actual treasure map from Treasure Island!

All well and good, I hear you cry – but why publish the stories exclusively  as ebooks?  Because, dear reader (and this is the genius part), scattered throughout each of the Booksurfers’ adventures are hyperlinks that, one clicked, take you to the exact moment our heroes are experiencing in the original book!  Now, I’m as much a fan of the paperback as the next guy but – when this is what ebooks can do – this is why they’re soon to explode in popularity.  What better way to introduce a classic tale than to have the reader explore it as part of a parallel adventure?

What’s that you say?  Don’t have a Kindle or other compatible eReader? No problem.  Head on over to the Amazon website and download the kindle app for your computer, smartphone or tablet PC for free.  In fact – I’d recommend using one of these apps over an actual Kindle when enjoying Booksurfers as jumping between adventures is as simple as a click of the mouse or a tap of the finger.

With two titles available now – Treasure Island and The Wonderful Wizard of Oz – and more promised soon, I urge you to give this amazing series a go especially as, with instant download of both the Kindle app and all Kindle books, you could be shaking hands with Jim Hawkins in a matter of minutes.

My only gripe – why can’t we get those awesome covers as desktop wallpapers?

Tommy

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My 10-year-old daughter used to beg for scary movies with the excuse ‘But I LIKE having nightmares, Mum.’ (This has changed recently, not least since I took her to the Edinburgh Dungeon, where famed cannibal Sawney Bean attempted to eat her and she almost fell into an open grave. But I digress.) Regardless of anything she says in an attempt to see Pan’s Labyrinth, she would not like the nightmares that visit the heroine in the opening chapters of Bryony Pearce’s debut novel ANGEL’S FURY…

Cassie Farrier has bad dreams. Not just any old bad dreams, but the kind that make her terrified to fall asleep – and she has them ALL the time. As a confirmed rabid insomniac (just ask the guards here in the caves) I could completely relate to Cassie’s problem – except that I don’t dream about little German girls dying in village massacres.

Cassie has suspected for a while that her nightmares of the girl Zillah’s death are based in reality – but that’s confirmed only when she takes a school trip to Germany, and is instrumental in uncovering a mass grave from many years ago. It’s the last straw for her long-suffering parents, who agree to send her for treatment to the strict, unconventional, and somewhat sinister Dr Leaza Ashworth.

And that’s when the nightmare really begins.

I love books where you’re never quite certain of anyone’s motives, and who is on the side of the angels. Actually, that’s a bad way of putting it – since in this gripping novel, being on the side of the angels is not necessarily a good thing. Bryony Pearce is fantastic at playing with your expectations, and her themes of reincarnation, redemption and vengeance are perfect vehicles for doing just that.

There are monsters aplenty, but they’re not always immediately recognisable. And as the true nature and identity of Cassie and her fellow inmates is revealed, there’s more than one shocking twist. It’s not just scary, gruesome, and unputdownably thrilling – it also takes some very brave turns with its characters. And that’s the kind of book I love.

It might not be for the youngest of readers, but if you like ‘em scary and thrilling, with a good dash of very horrible history and myth, you’ve got to read this one. I’m looking forward to Bryony’s next with a pounding heart…

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OK, OK, so I owe prizes yet again! All my ovas went out and my itches were scratched far too early! So once again my choice of tennis dream team for Wimbledon was hopeless and ended up almost bottom of the league. Would the owners of the teams: Sublime Purple Lemons, Tennis Tyrants and Unbelievable Seckers please contact me with their address and choice of book, please? You can contact me through the contact page here, or at my website. I’ll try to get your prizes in the post this week.

I’ll get my revenge next year… you’ll see.

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Sometimes I read books that don’t have monsters, action, fantasy, horror or monsters in them. Sometimes they are EXCELLENT.

Over the last five years or so Anthony McGowan has been making a name for himself: his books for teenagers are some of the very best around right now. Henry Tumour (or Jack Tumor as it’s known in the US) and The Knife That Killed Me are both particularly good (and, for younger readers, Einstein’s Underpants is brilliant too). But if you’re looking for a first taste of Anthony McGowan’s writing, The Fall (a Barrington Stoke book) is a great place to start.

The story in The Fall captures one of the defining moments in anyone’s life as they grow up: the point where friends thrown together by circumstance (here, school) begin to look at each other more clearly and decide whether they really like each other enough to stay friends. The choices Mog makes in The Fall change him forever.

As ever, McGowan pinpoints the minutiae of ugliness and beauty, desperation, hope and darkness that make up his characters’ emotional lives. The Fall is a small and perfect gem. It might even be the best thing this excellent author has written yet.

Out of Towners by Dan Tunstall describes another crucial point in teenage life – in this case, the first time you go on holiday with your mates. Chris and his friends have escaped to seaside Whitbourne in search of sun, booze, and the chance to meet girls. They find them. But after also attracting the unwanted attention of some local hard-nuts, will the whole group survive the weekend in one piece?

Again, it’s the details that make Out of Towners special. The banter, the anticipation of gearing up for a night out, the nerves involved in chatting someone up, the sudden sick shock when things turn nasty – the author narrates each moment so clearly you feel like you’re right there with the characters, experiencing it all yourself. Out of Towners is only his second book, but already it’s clear that Dan Tunstall is a name to watch.

If you like a bit of grit and authenticity in your fiction, I recommend The Fall and Out of Towners wholeheartedly. Even though neither contains any monsters. ;D

Sam

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I was interviewed by the illustrator Chris Judge during my recent trip to Dublin. I went to meet Chris at his studio and we sat down for a 20 min chat. He is the author and illustrator of the very funny picture book The Lonely Beast, published recently by Anderson Press.

Chris has produced an excellent website dedicated to the book including a brilliant piece of original film exposing once and for all the truth behind the myth that is The Lonely Beast. Proof, if proof were needed, that the Beast does exist…but is he alone? You’ll have to read the book to find out.

Meanwhile, you can find the interview I did with Chris for Inis, an Irish Children’s Book magazine, online here if you want to check it out.

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Each year, I run a spooky story writing competition on my website, and this year’s contest attracted over 150 entries – the highest number ever!  The standard of writing – from creepy characters to petrifying plots – was incredible, and I’d like to thank everyone who entered.  However, there can only be one winner, and this year it is…

Cira from Sandycroft CP School!

Many congratulations to Cira!  Her story, Dagger Nails, had suspense, action, and an ending that made me shiver.  You can read it in full below.

Cira’s prize is that she will become a character in one of my future books.  However, while all previous winners have been included in the Scream Street series – those adventures are now complete.  So, Cira will appear in one of the books in my brand new, top secret series – Project FC!  I’ll be in touch soon to tell her all about it.

Now, here’s Dagger Nails, by Cira…

—

The children’s bedrooms were dark and musty as they entered the twilight hour.

Each child was still awake even though it had gone midnight. “Beware he’s coming he’s coming he has razor sharp nails in fact DAGGER nails, if you see hear click clack click clack run away as fast as you cannnnn” the voice faded. Each child was still with fright, the room was silent once more.

The next morning each child met up at the park.

Sylvia, Emily, Corina, Brandon, Keith and Clyde were their names.

They all Started to chatter at the same time.

“Did you hear the voice last”… Emily broke off as Brandon started talking over her.

“Last night was”…

Clyde cut over Brandon, his long blond hair flopping over his brown chocolate drop eyes.

“Everyone calm down lets all talk at different times so we can all be heard” He talked fast like he always did.

Everyone was silent.

“Emily you go first” Clyde urged her

“Well last night I heard a deep voice” Emily didn’t want to carry on.

“Same” Brandon whispered

“This is all I remember, it said he’s coming he’s coming if you hear Click Clack run away”

“I think everyone heard that from the way they were looking at you” Clyde said grimly

“As a matter of face I heard it to”

Suddenly it turned quiet.

Click Clack Click Clack.

Everyone looked down the road.

There HE was.

Clyde turned as white as his t-shirt.

CLICK CLACK CLICK CLACK. HE was coming closer.

HE dug his nails into everyone’s heart blood pouring out like sparkling rubies.

Before Clyde was killed he shouted to a woman watching from her house in fear

“Tell everyone the voice was real” he screamed that was all he could manage before dagger nails thrust his long nails into Clyde’s heart dying his once white t-shirt red.

Clarabelle had been too scared to go out to play with her friends.

She had believed the voice.

It had been getting dark when they called for her. But she hadn’t gone out.

Now she knew she was right not to go out.

She looked at the clock it was 5:30.

She called to her mum

“Mummy please can I go out for a bit want to play at the park”

Ok but be careful I don’t want you to get hurt” Her mum was hinting about the killer.

“Ok mummy I will be back at 6:00”

“No I want you to be back at 10 to 6”

“Ok mummy, see you soon”

Clarabelle walked outside slowly as if she was checking for killers.

Clarabelle reached the park

As she got to the slide she went to go on it and slipped over the side and everything went black.

As Clarabelle slowly became conscious she noticed it was getting dark.

She looked at her watch, it was 5:50

“Oh shoot I’d better run” Clarabelle exclaimed.

Suddenly she stopped running, she had a feeling that she was being watched.

CLICK CLACK

She turned around slowly.

There was Dagger Nails.

Glaring At her she noticed that he had red blood shot eyes.

She ran as fast as she could.

As she reached her house she banged on the door.

Sadly her mum didn’t hear her.

Clarabelle’s mum woke up to a scream, she looked at the clock, it was 6:01 that was when Dagger Nails came out for a victim. She ran down the stairs. She stood in horror. She had locked the front door and had fallen asleep.

She could also see something red on the door step.

She slowly opened the door.

Written on the door step in blood was:

Clarabelle’s mum nearly fainted

Mummy why didn’t you open the door?

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