A Talking Book candidate from Mike Watson

[John Dean]

Bedtime

 

      “Bedtime Alfie. Up you go.”

      Alfie kissed mum.

      Alfie kissed dad.

      He closed the door of the back room and stood at the beginning of the path that led through the valley of the hall.

      The walls of the valley were high.

      The walls of the valley were steep.

      And the sun blazed down from a flat grey sky.

      “A long and dangerous journey,” thought the Hero. “But a journey I’ve done many times.”

      Placing his hands at his sides, he slowly bowed his head.

      “It begins again,” he whispered. “Prepare Grinkle. The time is now.”

      Alfie crept along the hall. He trod lightly. He trod carefully. His footsteps were like whispers on the soft floor of the valley.

      “I see your cave Grinkle,” murmured the Hero. “Your cave beneath the hill. Are you waiting Grinkle? Or are you hiding?”

      As quick as a blink, he yanked back the door of the cave and gazed inside.

      The cave was dark.

      The cave was cold.

      The cave was empty.

      In the distance was noise and small lights. It was the village of the people who lived further beneath the hill.

      “All is safe,” called the Hero. “Grinkle has fled. Sleep in peace my friends….until the next time.”

      “Alfie!” shouted dad from the back room. “Are you up stairs yet?”

      “Yes. I have begun the journey dad.”

      “What did he say?” asked mum.

      “Dunno,” said dad and went back to watching TV.

 

      Alfie closed the door of the under stairs cupboard. He walked to the end of the hall and stood at the foot of the stairs. Fifteen steps to the top.

      The fifth step creaked. It creaked like an old door opening. Alfie always missed out the fifth step

      Mum and dad were in the back room. They were watching TV.

      Alfie stood at the foot of the stairs. And he was looking at the Grinkle on the landing. The Grinkle was cunning. The Grinkle could change shape. Tonight, the Grinkle looked like a shadow. A lumpy shadow, grey, black and dark.

      Alfie stared at the Grinkle. And the Grinkle stared back at Alfie.

      Alfie could hear the mumbling of the TV in the back room.

      Alfie could hear the rumbling of the boiler in the kitchen.

      And Alfie could hear the Grinkle waiting at the top of the stairs.

      Taking a deep breath, the hero slowly drew out his sword. The sword was long. The sword was sharp. The sword had a shine like lightning. He gripped the handle tightly and began to climb the steps up the mountain.

      One, two, three, four, stride, six, seven. The Hero stopped. He looked to the top of the mountain. He prodded his sword towards the Grinkle. The Grinkle was changing shape. It was becoming smaller.

      “I have no fear of you Grinkle,” whispered the Hero. “but I see you shrink before me!”

      Higher up the mountain went the Hero. Eight, nine, ten, eleven.

      “Now is the time Grinkle.” Twelve, thirteen.

      And then, with a mighty leap, the Hero stood on top of the mountain.

      The climb had been hard. Loose stones had made him slip. The rocks were sharp. His hands and knees were cut. But the Grinkle had gone. The Hero wiped away the blood. He looked down to the valley, nodded and declared,

      “The people of the village are safe again….until the next time.”

      The door of the back room opened.

      “Alfie! Are you upstairs yet?” shouted dad.

      “Yes, dad. Just made it.”

      “What did he say?” asked mum.

      “Dunno,” said dad and closed the back room door.

 

      Alfie stood at the edge of the bathroom. The country of ice and snow. The world of frozen ground and white mountains. The Hero zipped up his fur coat. Goggles in place to cut out the glare. He stepped into the barren wilderness. No Grinkle. No footprints. But the Grinkle could be hiding. Drips from the melting showerhead.

      “Are you here Grinkle?” whispered the Hero. His breath rose into the sky like grey ghosts. Suddenly the Hero’s jet-fast mind zoomed. Quickly he slammed the trapdoor over the whirlpool and pressed the secret lever to release water from the dam. The Hero stepped to one side. The water gushed and flushed and gurgled. The water swept all before it!

      The Hero carefully lifted the heavy trapdoor. He looked into the blue frothy waters of the whirlpool. No Grinkle. The Hero was pleased and brushed his teeth. His voice boomed across the frozen landscape.

      “Tremble no more, my people. Your land is safe….until the next time!”

      The door of the back room opened.

      “Alfie! Done your teeth yet?”

      “Yes, dad. All evil has been swept away.”

      “What did he say?” asked mum.

      “Dunno,” said dad and closed the back room door.

 

      Alfie walked down the landing to his bedroom. He waited outside the door. He had shut the door before tea. But now….the door was slightly open. He carefully placed a finger on the handle. The handle was cold. Grinkle!

      Sometimes the Grinkle hides in bushes behind the bedroom door.

      A Hero needs to be brave.

      Sometimes the Grinkle crouches in the cave under the bed.

      A Hero needs to be careful.

      Sometimes the Grinkle waits in the wardrobe jungle.

      A Hero needs to be prepared.

      He fastened the sweatband around his head. He tightened the black belt on his karate jacket.

      “This time,” declared the Hero, “ no weapons!” He clenched his fists. “Just these!” he yelled and slammed open the bedroom door. The Hero glanced behind the door. The Grinkle had gone. The Hero spun around and dived onto the bed. Quickly, the Hero looked into the cave. Empty! There was only one place left. The Grinkle must be in the wardrobe jungle.

      “Right,” nodded the Hero. “Smoke bombs and grenades.” He only had one of each left from last night’s battle. But, it should be enough. The hero opened the wardrobe door and threw the smoke bomb and grenade into the jungle inside. The explosion hurt his ears. The smoke made his eyes weep. But the Grinkle had been destroyed. The bedroom was safe again….until the next time.

      “Alfie!” shouted dad from the bottom of the stairs. “Are you in bed yet?”

      “Just cleared a few things away dad.”

      “What did he say?” asked mum.

      “Dunno,” said dad and returned to the back room.

 

The bed was cold. The sheets felt shiny. Alfie curled up to keep warm. Curled up tight like a snail. The Grinkle was no match for a Hero, he thought. Alfie smiled. He began to uncurl. His toes began to explore the cold. It was colder at the bottom of the bed. Colder at the end where the sheets were tucked in. It felt colder than usual. Icy. Alfie didn’t want to explore anymore. He wanted to keep warm….to curl up again. And that’s when he realised he couldn’t. He couldn’t bring his feet back. They wouldn’t come! They couldn’t come! They had been gripped. Grasped! Grabbed! He felt an icy band around each ankle. He felt himself being pulled down under the covers. Down to where it was cold. Down to the bottom. No matter how hard Alfie resisted….it was no use. He was being dragged further and further into the bed. Further and further under the covers. The Grinkle! The Grinkle had found a new place to hide.

      Alfie screamed.

      But his scream was shushed in sheets.

      Alfie yelled.

      But his yell was buried in blankets.

      Downstairs, mum and dad were in the back room.

      “What was that?” asked mum.

      “Dunno,” said dad.

      “Thought I heard Alfie.”

      “Alfie?”

      “Hmm, Alfie.”

      “No,” said dad. “He’ll be fast asleep by now.”

      Mum smiled. Dad smiled. And went back to watching TV.