Moon-Faced Ghoul-Thing by Barry Hutchison Page B

first house. It was one of the new wooden huts that had been built after the neighbouring village of Loosh had been destroyed. Loosh was supposed to have been rebuilt months ago, but a mysterious fire had burned every one of the houses to the ground before they could be finished, destroying the village for the second time that year. Not wanting to chance things a third time, the Mayor of Loosh had decided they should all just stay in Lump permanently.
    Above the door of the house was a carved wooden fish. At least, it was supposed to bea fish, but the person who had carved it had either never seen a fish in their life, or had never had a go at carving before. Either way, it looked like a sort of melted slug with a very surprised expression on its face.
    The hut was the home of pirate-turned-fishmonger Captain Swordbeard. From past experience, Paradise knew the captain had a fondness for kipper-flavoured fudge. She rummaged in her sack and pulled out a small parcel wrapped several times in thick brown paper. Despite the layers of wrapping, the whiff of sugary smoked fish was unmistakeable.
    “I’m glad to get rid of this one,” she said, dropping the package on the doorstep. She wiped her hands on her tatty black dressand all three children quickly backed away. Paradise began to march towards another house. “This way; keep up. You wouldn’t want the ghoul-faced thingummy to come and get you.”
    She jabbed Wesley in the ribs. He let out a high-pitched squeak of fright. “It’s got me, it’s got me!”
    Paradise and Ben both burst into fits of laughter.
    “D-don’t do that!” Wes yelped. “I almost soiled my body stocking.”
    Paradise slung her bag over her shoulder and hurried on ahead. “Come on, this is getting us nowhere,” she said. “Last one to give out their sweets is a Gruzzleslug’s mum.”

    It took them almost forty minutes to stop by every house in the village. They left their little gifts of chocolate, fudge and other tasty stuff on every doorstep they stopped at. Some of the homes had already been visited by other children, and those steps were spilling over with stacks of sweet-smelling parcels.
    Ben’s stomach rumbled as he balanced his last bundle of goodies on top of a teetering pile of packages.

    The aroma of toffee apples and home baking made his mouth water.
    “We could probably take one or two,” he said. “Nobody would notice.”
    “Are you mad ?” Wesley spluttered. “And risk angering Lord Scarrabus?”
    “Grow up, Wesley,” said Paradise, rolling her eyes. “There is no Lord Scarrabus. If there was, why has nobody ever seen him?”
    “Because we leave the sweets,” Wesley said. His antennae bobbed about frantically on top of his head. “We leave the sweets and keep him at bay. That’s the rule. Start messing with that and who knows what might happen?”
    Paradise stooped and lifted a small paper bag from the pile. She fished inside it and pulled out a brightly coloured bonbon.
    “Are you seriously telling me you believe all this stuff?” she asked. “You honestly think that some all-powerful evil warlord is held at bay by children leaving chocolate on doorsteps?”
    “Yes! Why else would the tradition have started in the first place?”
    “Well, let’s see,” said Paradise. “Maybe because adults wanted a load of free sweets?”
    “Ha!” laughed Wesley. “That’s… That’s…” He considered it for a second. “That does make a lot of sense, actually.”
    Ben eyed up the pile of packets. “So in other words, we should probably just help ourselves?”
    Paradise shrugged. “Yeah, why not?” she said, tossing the bonbon towards her open mouth.
    “N-no!” yelped Wesley. There was a brief flash and the sweet froze just millimetres from Paradise’s lips. It hung there, floating in the air, quietly minding its own business.

    All three children stared in silence at the sweet for what felt like a very long time. Beneventually glanced sideways at Wes. “Did