Chapter One
Benjamin Blank stood in his bedroom studying the little green-faced figure at the top of his stairs. It stared back at him, tapping its foot impatiently.
“Are you a gremlin?” Ben asked.
“No.”
“A goblin?”
“No.”
“Are you a big frog?”
“Of course I’m not a big frog!”
Ben ran a hand through his messy hair and scratched his head. “Well, what are you then?”
Paradise Little drew herself up to her full unimpressive height and pointed at the pointy black hat on her head. “I’m obviously a witch.”
“Oh,” said Ben. He crinkled his nose. “Not exactly original, is it?”
“Well, I’m very sorry,” replied Paradise. “I didn’t realise we were being marked on creativity.” She looked Ben up and down. “Anyway, what are you supposed to be?”
Before Ben could answer there was a commotion from the spiral staircase that led up from the room below. A brightly colouredhead popped up through the hatch in the floor. Two large antennae flopped and flailed around madly on top of the head, like a couple of overweight worms having a fight.
Wesley Chant, former trainee wizard, climbed the last few steps. He only just managed to squeeze a pair of colourfully patterned wings through the hatch. “Ta-daa!” he said, when he finally finished clambering into the room.
Ben and Paradise both took a step back so they could take in the full majesty of Wesley’s costume. He was wearing what looked to be a dark-blue body stocking that covered him from neck to toe. On his head was a red and yellow knitted bobble-hat with the jiggly antennae fastened to the top.
But it was the wings that really drew the eye. They were each over a metre wide, shaped like giant number 3s and sewn on to the back of the body stocking just below the shoulders. The detailed patterns on the wings perfectly matched each other, and Ben reckoned Wesley must have been secretly working on the costume for weeks. There was just one question.
“What is it?” Ben asked.
Wesley looked down at himself. “It’s a butterfly.”
“A butterfly?”
Wesley nodded. Quite proudly, Ben thought.
“Let me get this straight. It’s the Feast of Scarrabus, the darkest night of the whole year, when children all over the kingdom dress upas the most horrifying creatures their imaginations can conjure up,” Ben said. “And you’ve come … as a butterfly.”
Wesley blushed. “You don’t have to dress up as something scary.”
“Of course you do!” said Ben.
“Yeah,” agreed Paradise. “It’s pretty much the entire point.”
“OK, yes, well, that may be. But … butterflies are scary. Imagine one kept doing this !” Wesley yelped, lunging at Paradise and waving his hands in her face. “Imagine that! Just doing this over and over again! Then what would you do? Hmm?”
“Kill it with a shoe,” said Paradise flatly.
Wesley stopped lunging. His wings drooped. “Bit harsh.”
Paradise turned back to Ben. “So what are you then?”
“All you’ve done is paint your face white,” said Wes.
“I’m not finished,” Ben said. “Turn round.”
Wesley’s wing slapped Paradise on the back of the head as they turned.
“Ow!”
“Sorry!”
There was a soft rustling from behind them. It was followed a moment later by a CRASH as Ben fell over while pulling on a pair of trousers. He sprang back to his feet, fastened the trousers then snapped the hood of a cloak up over his head.
“Ready!”
Paradise and Wesley turned back to see Ben lurking in the shadows in the corner of his room. His white-painted face was barely visible beneath the black hood of a long robe.
Jutting out of the front of the cloak were two spindly tree branches. In the gloom they looked like long, insect-like arms.
“Well, I’m none the wiser,” Paradise confessed.
Wesley’s wings twitched with excitement. “Wait, I know this,” he said. “It’s the Moon-Faced Ghoul-Thing. Brilliant!”
“What’s a Moon-Faced Ghoul-Thing when
Benjamin Blank stood in his bedroom studying the little green-faced figure at the top of his stairs. It stared back at him, tapping its foot impatiently.
“Are you a gremlin?” Ben asked.
“No.”
“A goblin?”
“No.”
“Are you a big frog?”
“Of course I’m not a big frog!”
Ben ran a hand through his messy hair and scratched his head. “Well, what are you then?”
Paradise Little drew herself up to her full unimpressive height and pointed at the pointy black hat on her head. “I’m obviously a witch.”
“Oh,” said Ben. He crinkled his nose. “Not exactly original, is it?”
“Well, I’m very sorry,” replied Paradise. “I didn’t realise we were being marked on creativity.” She looked Ben up and down. “Anyway, what are you supposed to be?”
Before Ben could answer there was a commotion from the spiral staircase that led up from the room below. A brightly colouredhead popped up through the hatch in the floor. Two large antennae flopped and flailed around madly on top of the head, like a couple of overweight worms having a fight.
Wesley Chant, former trainee wizard, climbed the last few steps. He only just managed to squeeze a pair of colourfully patterned wings through the hatch. “Ta-daa!” he said, when he finally finished clambering into the room.
Ben and Paradise both took a step back so they could take in the full majesty of Wesley’s costume. He was wearing what looked to be a dark-blue body stocking that covered him from neck to toe. On his head was a red and yellow knitted bobble-hat with the jiggly antennae fastened to the top.
But it was the wings that really drew the eye. They were each over a metre wide, shaped like giant number 3s and sewn on to the back of the body stocking just below the shoulders. The detailed patterns on the wings perfectly matched each other, and Ben reckoned Wesley must have been secretly working on the costume for weeks. There was just one question.
“What is it?” Ben asked.
Wesley looked down at himself. “It’s a butterfly.”
“A butterfly?”
Wesley nodded. Quite proudly, Ben thought.
“Let me get this straight. It’s the Feast of Scarrabus, the darkest night of the whole year, when children all over the kingdom dress upas the most horrifying creatures their imaginations can conjure up,” Ben said. “And you’ve come … as a butterfly.”
Wesley blushed. “You don’t have to dress up as something scary.”
“Of course you do!” said Ben.
“Yeah,” agreed Paradise. “It’s pretty much the entire point.”
“OK, yes, well, that may be. But … butterflies are scary. Imagine one kept doing this !” Wesley yelped, lunging at Paradise and waving his hands in her face. “Imagine that! Just doing this over and over again! Then what would you do? Hmm?”
“Kill it with a shoe,” said Paradise flatly.
Wesley stopped lunging. His wings drooped. “Bit harsh.”
Paradise turned back to Ben. “So what are you then?”
“All you’ve done is paint your face white,” said Wes.
“I’m not finished,” Ben said. “Turn round.”
Wesley’s wing slapped Paradise on the back of the head as they turned.
“Ow!”
“Sorry!”
There was a soft rustling from behind them. It was followed a moment later by a CRASH as Ben fell over while pulling on a pair of trousers. He sprang back to his feet, fastened the trousers then snapped the hood of a cloak up over his head.
“Ready!”
Paradise and Wesley turned back to see Ben lurking in the shadows in the corner of his room. His white-painted face was barely visible beneath the black hood of a long robe.
Jutting out of the front of the cloak were two spindly tree branches. In the gloom they looked like long, insect-like arms.
“Well, I’m none the wiser,” Paradise confessed.
Wesley’s wings twitched with excitement. “Wait, I know this,” he said. “It’s the Moon-Faced Ghoul-Thing. Brilliant!”
“What’s a Moon-Faced Ghoul-Thing when
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