Read Online (1972) The Halloween Tree by Ray Bradbury - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Ray Bradbury
Tags: Horror
Ads: Link
ran down stairways along dark corridors until they
reached a ledge. Far out there on the windy air, above a very narrow
walkway indeed, was that small face, lovely among so much ugliness.
Tom went first, not looking down, spreadeagling himself. Ralph followed. The rest inched along in a line.
“Watch out, Tom, don’t fall!”
“I’m not fallin’. Here’s Pip.”
And there he was.
Standing in a line directly under the outthrust stone mask, the bust,
the head of a gargoyle, they looked up at that mighty fine profile,
that great nub nose, that unbearded cheek, that fuzzy cap of marbled
hair.
Pipkin.
“Pip, for cri-yi, what you doin’ here?” called Tom.
Pip said nothing.
His mouth was cut stone.
“Aw it’s just rock,” said Ralph. “Just a gargoyle carved here a long time ago, looks like Pipkin.”
“No, I heard him call!”
“But, how—”
And then the wind gave them the answer.
It blew around the high corners of Notre Dame. It fluted in the ears and piped out the gaping mouths of the gargoyles.
“Ahhh—” whispered Pipkin’s voice.
The hair stood up on the backs of their necks.
“Ooooo,” murmured the stone mouth.
“Listen. There it is!” said Ralph excitedly.
“Shut up!” cried Tom. “Pip? Next time the wind blows, tell us, how do we help? What got you here? How do we get you down?”
Silence. The boys clung to the rock-cliff face of the great cathedral.
Then another swoop of wind sucked by, drew their breaths, and whistled in the carved stone boy’s teeth.
“One—” said Pip’s voice.
“—question,” whispered Pip’s voice again after a pause.
Silence. More wind.
“At a—”
The boys waited.
“—time.”
“One question at a time!” translated Tom.
The boys hooted with laughter. That was Pip all right.
“Okay” Tom gathered his spit. “What are you doing up here?”
The wind blew sadly and the voice spoke as from deep in an old well:
“Been—so many—places—in just—a few—hours.”
The boys waited, grinding their teeth.
“Speak up, Pipkin!”
The wind came back to mourn in the open stone mouth:
But the wind had died.
It began to rain.
And this was best of all. For the raindrops ran cold in Pipkin’s stone
ears and out along his nose and fountained from his marble mouth so
that he began to utter syllables in liquid tongues, with clear cold
rainwater words:
“Hey—this is better!”
He spouted mist, he sprayed quick rain:
“You should’ve been where I been! Gosh! I was buried for a mummy! I was trapped in a dog!”
“We guessed that was you, Pipkin!”
“And now here,” said the rain in the ear, the rain in the nose, the
rain in the clear-dripping marble mouth. “Gosh, golly, funny, strange,
inside this rock with all these devils and demons for pals! And, ten
minutes from now, who knows where I’ll be? higher up? or buried deep!”
“Where, Pipkin?”
The boys jostled. The rain squalled and beat them so they almost tilted and fell off the ledge.
“Are you dead, Pipkin?”
“No, not yet,” said the cold rain in his mouth. “Part of me in a
hospital a long way off home, part of me in that old Egyptian tomb.
Part of me in the grass in England. Part of me here. Part of me in a
worse place—”
“Where?”
“I don’t know, I don’t, oh gosh, one minute I’m yelling laughs, the next I’m scared. Now, just now, this very minute, I guess, I know, I’m scared. Help me, guys. Help, oh please!”
Rain poured out his eyes like tears.
The boys reached up to touch Pipkin’s chin, as best they could. But before they could touch …
A lightning bolt struck out of the sky.
It flashed blue and white.
The entire cathedral shook. The boys had to grab demons’ horns and angels’ wings on either side so as not to be knocked off.
Thunder and smoke. And a great scattering of rock and stone.
Pipkin’s face was gone. Knocked off by the lightning bolt, it fell down through space to shatter the ground
reached a ledge. Far out there on the windy air, above a very narrow
walkway indeed, was that small face, lovely among so much ugliness.
Tom went first, not looking down, spreadeagling himself. Ralph followed. The rest inched along in a line.
“Watch out, Tom, don’t fall!”
“I’m not fallin’. Here’s Pip.”
And there he was.
Standing in a line directly under the outthrust stone mask, the bust,
the head of a gargoyle, they looked up at that mighty fine profile,
that great nub nose, that unbearded cheek, that fuzzy cap of marbled
hair.
Pipkin.
“Pip, for cri-yi, what you doin’ here?” called Tom.
Pip said nothing.
His mouth was cut stone.
“Aw it’s just rock,” said Ralph. “Just a gargoyle carved here a long time ago, looks like Pipkin.”
“No, I heard him call!”
“But, how—”
And then the wind gave them the answer.
It blew around the high corners of Notre Dame. It fluted in the ears and piped out the gaping mouths of the gargoyles.
“Ahhh—” whispered Pipkin’s voice.
The hair stood up on the backs of their necks.
“Ooooo,” murmured the stone mouth.
“Listen. There it is!” said Ralph excitedly.
“Shut up!” cried Tom. “Pip? Next time the wind blows, tell us, how do we help? What got you here? How do we get you down?”
Silence. The boys clung to the rock-cliff face of the great cathedral.
Then another swoop of wind sucked by, drew their breaths, and whistled in the carved stone boy’s teeth.
“One—” said Pip’s voice.
“—question,” whispered Pip’s voice again after a pause.
Silence. More wind.
“At a—”
The boys waited.
“—time.”
“One question at a time!” translated Tom.
The boys hooted with laughter. That was Pip all right.
“Okay” Tom gathered his spit. “What are you doing up here?”
The wind blew sadly and the voice spoke as from deep in an old well:
“Been—so many—places—in just—a few—hours.”
The boys waited, grinding their teeth.
“Speak up, Pipkin!”
The wind came back to mourn in the open stone mouth:
But the wind had died.
It began to rain.
And this was best of all. For the raindrops ran cold in Pipkin’s stone
ears and out along his nose and fountained from his marble mouth so
that he began to utter syllables in liquid tongues, with clear cold
rainwater words:
“Hey—this is better!”
He spouted mist, he sprayed quick rain:
“You should’ve been where I been! Gosh! I was buried for a mummy! I was trapped in a dog!”
“We guessed that was you, Pipkin!”
“And now here,” said the rain in the ear, the rain in the nose, the
rain in the clear-dripping marble mouth. “Gosh, golly, funny, strange,
inside this rock with all these devils and demons for pals! And, ten
minutes from now, who knows where I’ll be? higher up? or buried deep!”
“Where, Pipkin?”
The boys jostled. The rain squalled and beat them so they almost tilted and fell off the ledge.
“Are you dead, Pipkin?”
“No, not yet,” said the cold rain in his mouth. “Part of me in a
hospital a long way off home, part of me in that old Egyptian tomb.
Part of me in the grass in England. Part of me here. Part of me in a
worse place—”
“Where?”
“I don’t know, I don’t, oh gosh, one minute I’m yelling laughs, the next I’m scared. Now, just now, this very minute, I guess, I know, I’m scared. Help me, guys. Help, oh please!”
Rain poured out his eyes like tears.
The boys reached up to touch Pipkin’s chin, as best they could. But before they could touch …
A lightning bolt struck out of the sky.
It flashed blue and white.
The entire cathedral shook. The boys had to grab demons’ horns and angels’ wings on either side so as not to be knocked off.
Thunder and smoke. And a great scattering of rock and stone.
Pipkin’s face was gone. Knocked off by the lightning bolt, it fell down through space to shatter the ground
Similar Books
