Goblins and Ghosties (12 page)

Girls of all shapes and sizes set their caps at him, fair, dark and redhead, but Don Antonio only had eyes for Dona Ines. A widow, he was told, – so young, so sad, – and so beautiful!

And she seemed quite taken with him. He was already dreaming of wedding bells when he heard that she'd left town with another gentleman even stouter than he was – not to say downright fat – and old enough to be her father.

Don Antonio was broken-hearted.

A few days later she was back again. Alone.

‘You don't seriously think I preferred him over you?' she said. ‘We just went on a little sight-seeing trip, that's all.'

All went well for a while after that. He'd made up his mind to pop the question. Then she was off again, with another gentleman, even fatter than the last.

Don Antonio was devastated.

He did what he'd always done when he was unhappy. He ate more. He ate until the buttons on his waistcoat threatened to pop.

Then
she came back again. Alone again and all smiles.

‘You've put on weight,' she said, patting his tummy.

‘I'm sorry,' he said. ‘I was pining for you.'

‘Don't be sorry. I like it. Did you really think I'd abandoned you? That man was a lawyer. I was hoping he'd help me claim my inheritance. Mine is a sad story, you see. When my husband died, he left all he owned to me, on condition I married his best friend. But I don't love this man! I could never love him. And he doesn't love me. All he wants is my money.'

‘Marry me!' cried Don Antonio. ‘Forget the money! I have more than enough for both of us.'

‘You don't know this man,' sighed Dona Ines. ‘He'd never let me rest if I hurt his pride so. I'd spend the rest of my life expecting a dagger in the back, or poison in my food. Perhaps, my darling, if you were to go to him, reason with him, man to man…'

‘I will!' declared Don Antonio.

‘And if he won't see reason,' added Dona
Ines,
‘you must challenge him.'

‘To a duel?'

‘A duel to the death! Then I'll be rid of him, once and for all, and my husband's money will be mine… I mean ours!'

‘What if I lose?'

‘You won't lose.'

Don Antonio wished he could be as sure of that as she seemed to be. He'd never fought a duel in his life. On the other hand, if this fellow was as grasping as she said, there was a good chance he'd be able to buy him off.

Next morning, leaving the town in her carriage, he was in high hopes that by evening they'd be setting a date for the wedding. As the day wore on and the roads became rougher and the countryside wilder, he began to have his doubts. As the sun set, ‘Is it much further?' he said.

‘Not far now,' she answered.

So on they went and on again until at last, with the full moon shining overhead, they came to a house standing alone at the edge of a forest.

‘
It looks empty,' he said, hesitating. ‘Are you sure he's at home?'

‘Of course he is. He's expecting us. Have courage, my darling. Do this for me.'

‘I will!' he said. ‘You know I'd do anything for you.'

He let her take him by the hand and lead him up to the great front door. She pushed it and it opened at her touch.

‘This way,' she said.

She led him through deserted corridors, finding her way in the almost pitch dark. Where were the servants, he wondered? Why were there no fires, no lights? Then, they were standing in a big, empty room. There, at least, there was a fire burning, whose flickering flames only made the shadows seem darker.

‘Are you there, my darling?' whispered Dona Ines.

A soft, answering growl came out of the darkness.

‘Patience, my darling. Patience!' She turned to Don Antonio. ‘I have not been honest with you,' she said, ‘and I am truly sorry,
but
when I tell you how it is, perhaps you will understand. I am not a widow. I married young and for love. It wasn't until the next full moon that I discovered that my husband was – is – a werewolf. He would have eaten me on the spot. Instead we came to an agreement. If I would bring him fresh, human meat – the plumper the better – at each full moon, then he would spare my life. So this is goodbye, Don Antonio.' Gently she kissed him on the lips. ‘And thank you. Well,' she said, smiling, as she closed the door behind her, ‘you did say you would do anything for me.'

The Hidden Hand

United States

Things were winding down after the Hallowe'en party, but Polly wasn't in a mood to go home yet and Cathy was her best friend, so she stayed on too. It was Tom's house, so he wasn't going anywhere. And Josh… well, Josh was always the last to leave any party.

They sat there, polishing off the last of the drinks, telling each other ghost stories, till they'd pretty much run out of those.

Then
Tom said, ‘Did you know that if you walk over a fresh grave on Hallowe'en night, the dead man inside will reach up and drag you under?'

Josh grinned. ‘That dead man's got to be six feet down,' he said. ‘His arms would have to be elastic.'

‘I'm just telling you what I heard,' said Tom. ‘You want to prove to us it's not true, you go ahead try it.'

‘Maybe not tonight,' said Josh.

‘I wouldn't do it,' said Cathy. ‘Not if you paid me a million dollars.'

‘I'd do it for nothing,' said Polly. ‘Just to prove to you it's all hogwash. I'll go down to the graveyard right now. And to prove I really have stepped on a grave, I'll take this kitchen knife,‘ she said, ‘and stick it in the earth right up to the handle. You can go find it in the morning.'

Off she went, down to the graveyard, and stepped, first one foot, then the other, onto the first fresh grave she came to. She bent down and stuck in the knife as hard and deep as she could.

She
tried to stand up again and found she couldn't. There was something holding her down.

The others heard her scream. At first, they thought she was fooling. But the screaming went on and on. ‘Help me! He's got me! I can't move! Help me, please!'

‘I don't think she's fooling,' said Cathy.

‘Me neither,' said Josh. ‘What do you think we should do?'

‘Maybe,' said Tom, ‘we should go and help her?'

Then the screaming stopped.

‘You think we should phone the police?' said Cathy.

‘What'll we tell them?' said Josh. ‘We think a dead man's got Polly? Dragged her down into his grave?'

‘Maybe we should take a look first,' said Tom. ‘How about if we all go together and take a peek over the graveyard wall.'

So that's what they did.

Peeping, one, two, three, over the graveyard wall they saw Polly, crouched on a newly
covered
grave, trembling and sobbing.

Tom pulled out the knife.

Josh helped her up.

Cathy found the tear Polly had made in her party dress when she stuck the knife into that newly covered grave.

She'd only pinned herself down when she stuck the knife in the ground − right through her dress!

River of Death

Morocco

Before there were angels in heaven or men and women walking the earth, in the time before time began, the djinni were born out of liquid fire. Mostly, these days, they live in the wild, lonely places and keep themselves to themselves. But just now and again they're apt to turn troublesome, maybe out of sheer boredom. Or perhaps to remind the rest of the world that they're still there.

So
it was that the djinni who lived on the mountain above Azemour took it into his head one day to cut off the city's water supply by rolling a great boulder in front of the cave mouth where the river had its source. He said that if forty wise men could be found, brave enough to give their lives for the sake of the city, then the waters would flow again.

The sultan summoned his council of wise men – who happened to number exactly forty − and they all agreed that forty lives would be a small price to pay for the life of the city.

Then the excuses started coming.

‘I would give my life gladly − but my daughter's getting married next month.'

‘My wife is sick.'

‘My son's causing problems – typical teenager!'

‘There's a debt I must repay…'

‘I have an epic
poem
to finish. How can I deprive the world of my masterpiece?'

‘There is an eclipse of the sun I must observe or all my research will have been for nothing.'

And so it went on, until only one was left, the philosopher Sidi Rahal. ‘Who can read the mind of a djinni? Perhaps one life will satisfy him after all,' he said.

He didn't want to die, any more than the others did. As he walked up to the cave mouth he was just as afraid as they would have been, wondering what hideous death the djinni had in store.

Behind the boulder he could hear the pent-up waters roaring like a monster seeking for a way out.

He'd expected the djinni to be waiting for him, but there seemed to be no one about, apart from a wizened old man leaning on a wooden staff.

‘Are you looking for the djinni?' he asked.

‘Er, yes,' said Sidi Rahal.

‘You've found him,' said the old man.

‘You're the djinni?'

‘
That's me. I take it you're one of the forty wise men of the council. What happened to the others?'

‘They… er… I'm afraid they were busy,' said Sidi Rahal.

‘Not so busy they couldn't spare the time to watch you die,' observed the djinni.

Sidi Rahal looked back the way he'd come. There were the other thirty-nine wise men, carefully keeping their distance. ‘Can we just get on with it?' he said.

‘If that's what you want,' said the djinni.

‘I'd much rather live,' said Sidi Rahal.