Read Online Baby Teeth: Bite-sized tales of terror by Dan Rabarts - Free Book Online

the knobs on the stove. ‘Hey. The gas still works,’ he said.
    â€˜Leave the bloody gas,’ shouted Mike. ‘We’ve got to get out.’
    â€˜Whatever.’
    Eric took a last look around then climbed over the sill and dropped onto the wet grass, bending his knees to break his fall. Standing up, he pushed the window closed, put his hands in his pockets and strolled round the corner of the house. He caught up with the others as they tried to untangle their bikes. ‘Chill out, you guys. What’s the problem?’
    â€˜You saw that glass break,’ said Mike.
    â€˜That was you, wasn’t it?’
    â€˜It was bloody not.’ Mike was in Eric’s face.
    â€˜It must’ve been. You were the only one touching it.’
    Glen stepped between them. ‘All right. All right. We’re out now aren’t we?’
    â€˜What was that last message, anyway?’ asked Josh.
    Jake pulled out the scrap of paper. They gathered round and read by the light of Josh’s lamp.
    Y O U – W I _ _ – K I _ _ – Y O U _ – _ _ O T H E _
    They all stared. Then Mike piped up. ‘Ha. You will kiss your mother! Must be for you, Eric! You’re the mummy’s boy.’
    Jake looked serious. ‘Nah. That’s two letters there.’ He pointed. ‘And M wasn’t missing anyway.’
    â€˜Where’s Bub?’ said Eric.
    *
    B ub watched them race for their bikes. Glen first, always the strongest and fittest, Josh and Jake following. Then Fat Mike. Eric last. Ambling along where the others had run. They didn’t seem very happy with each other. Bub smiled. Served them right for forgetting him.
    He stepped out from behind the curtain. The room seemed darker than ever. He could use his bike lamp, but ...
    Four steps, round the coffee table, four more. He felt the door frame. Left, six steps, left again. He could just make out the white of the stove in the kitchen at the far end of the passage. No need to count now. As he passed the big room, he saw the burning candle.
    Can’t leave that.
    The board is still on the table, bits of glass scattered over it and on the floor. There is a weird smell. He covers his nose and picks up the candle. Holding it ahead of him, he turns back.
    Towards the kitchen.

Practice Makes Perfect
    Sally McLennan
    M y grandfather told me to practise and so I did. ‘Start small,’ he said, and I listened. Mom says you should always listen to grown-ups. So I do.
    The expression on my parents’ faces is amazing. I love it. There are little ducks on my pyjamas. I don’t like them. My room has ducks around the top of the walls too, even though I’m too old for it and boys shouldn’t have stencils – Gary Langdon said so. The stencils and pyjamas are there because of my second ever pet. It was a duck until last night when I took it to bed. The duck had followed me ever since it had hatched – everywhere around the farm – if you can call it a farm. I think they say ‘hobby farm’. But I’m not sure what the hobby is.
    â€˜They love each other so much,’ Mom said once. Because the duck followed me and I let it.
    The duck even comes to sleep with me sometimes and Mom pretends she’s OK if it poops. It is soft and warm but annoying. Now the duck is just feathers and limpness. I held its beak shut and put my hands over its nostrils and lay on it. Then I called Mom and told her the truth: ‘Rocky won’t move.’
    She took one look and put her arms around me and held me against her. She called my dad and he slipped into the room while she held me. He took the not-Rocky, not-duck away. That night they made my favourite food and told me Rocky had gone to heaven. My favourite foods are macaroni and cheese and chocolate milkshake. I was still hungry and Mom asked what I wanted. She made pancakes. Pancakes are my next favourite food.
    Rocky was a big success.
    â€˜Go slow and