Zombie King and Other Scary Short Stories for Halloween (Mystery Underground) Read online

The baby that couldn’t speak had spoken. If the jellyfish could do that to a baby, what would they do to her?

  The End

  This story and twelve others appear in the book Mystery Underground: Frightening Florida. Look for it on MysteryUnderground.com.

  No. 13 Pencil

  San Diego, CA

  January 29, 1:38 pm

  “Jackson, are you listening to me?” Principal Rooney asked impatiently, glaring over his glasses. His red face was redder than usual.

  “Hmm?” Jackson mumbled. “Oh, yeah, sure. I’m listening.”

  That was a lie, of course, and a bad one. Jackson wasn’t listening. He was thinking about what to draw next. It was drawing, in fact, that had gotten him sent to the principal’s office.

  Principal Rooney held up Jackson’s latest masterpiece. It was a cartoon of a portly middle-aged woman shouting into a bullhorn. Spittle flew from the woman’s mouth and bobby pins sprang from her hair. Her face was even redder than Mr. Rooney’s.

  She was also Jackson’s teacher, Ms. Conduct.

  “I asked if you could explain this,” Mr. Rooney pressed. If he got any angrier, Jackson noted, spittle would start flying from his mouth.

  “It’s just a joke,” Jackson said lamely.

  “A joke?!” Principal Rooney repeated. “Jokes are supposed to be funny.” He shook the cartoon furiously. “But this is not funny!”

  Jackson sighed. He couldn’t help being an artist. Some people were good singers. Some were good at sports. He was good at drawing. He really didn’t think it was fair that he was getting in trouble for it.

  “No, sir, it’s not funny,” he said out loud. But to himself he added, it’s hilarious.

  “Well, good,” Principal Rooney nodded, and his face started to return to its normal color. “I’m glad to hear you say that. Especially because I’ve already talked to your mother.”

  “What? No!” Jackson grumbled. “She’s going to be so mad. She’ll probably ground me. Then I won’t be able to go to Comic-Con.” The yearly comic book convention in San Diego was the biggest event of its kind in the world. Jackson had been dying to go for months.

  “I’m sorry, Jackson,” Mr. Rooney said. “But you should have thought of that before you drew such an offensive picture.”

  “I know, I know,” Jackson said quietly, his head down.

  Principal Rooney continued to scold him. He used words like “responsibility,” “maturity,” and “consequences.” He probably thought he was doing Jackson a favor. You know, helping him to be a better person.

  But Jackson had heard it all before. His eyes wandered to the wall behind the principal’s desk. A framed diploma and a flag from the University of California, Los Angeles hung there. The university’s mascot, a grinning bear, seemed to mock his predicament.

  “Next time I hope you make better choices,” Principal Rooney finished. “I don’t want to see you in here again.”

  Jackson nodded seriously. “Yes, sir.”

  “You’re excused.”

  The boy humbly scooped his backpack off the floor and left the office. Head still down, he shuffled through the halls and to the buses in front of the school. Thankfully it was time to go home.

  He slumped into an empty seat and started digging through his backpack. He pulled out his sketchbook and a plastic case of assorted pencils. Some of the pencils were the normal No. 2’s used in school. Others had number and letter combinations like 6B and 9H. These told him how light or dark the pencil would draw.

  One unusual pencil was labeled No. 13. Jackson hadn’t ever used it and wasn’t even sure where it had come from. Today, though, he decided to try it. He had a special drawing in mind for Principal Rooney.

  Tongue sticking out in concentration, he began to draw. The new pencil moved smoothly across the paper. At times, it seemed to have a mind of its own, almost guiding his hand.

  “Hey, Jax,” his friend Cameron said, sitting down next to him. “How’d it go with Mr. Rooney?”

  “He called my mom,” Jackson replied, still drawing.

  “Oh, man, she’s going to kill you,” Cameron winced. “I hope it was worth it.”

  “We’ll see when I get home,” Jackson shrugged.

  “So what are you drawing?” Cameron asked.

  Jackson grinned mischievously. His illustration depicted a monstrous bear clutching the collar of Mr. Rooney’s suit jacket in a massive clawed paw. So much for the grinning teddy on the principal’s college flag! Now the snarling, toothy beast towered over Mr. Rooney threateningly.

  “Nice!” Cameron exclaimed. “You should add some big horns, though, and a tail with wicked spikes.”

  “Can do,” Jackson nodded.

  He enthusiastically sketched the suggested additions. When he finished, the boys marveled at his handiwork.

  “Looks great,” Cameron commented. “Too bad it’s not real.”

  “You said it,” Jackson agreed.

  When Jackson got off at his stop, Cameron wished him luck. He knew his friend would need it. Jackson’s mother didn’t tolerate school shenanigans.

  “Go to your room!” she ordered as soon as he walked through the front door. “No TV, no internet, and no friends. You’re grounded for a month!”

  “A month!” Jackson whined.

  “I don’t want to hear any backtalk,” she scolded, hands on her hips. “And no Comic-Con this weekend either.”

  Jackson sighed, feeling crushed. He could live without TV and internet, but no comic convention? That was too much. He had been waiting for the convention all year!

  “Please, Mom,” he begged. “You have to let me go to Comic-Con. You have to.”

  “I don’t want to hear it,” she warned. “Go to your room. Now!”

  With a huff, Jackson stomped off to his room. He slammed the door behind him, flopped into the chair at his slanted drafting table, and sulked.

  What a terrible day! His mother couldn’t be serious. No comic convention? That was the worst punishment of all. How could she do that to him? Was she his mother or a monster?

  Suddenly inspired, he dug out his No. 13 pencil and started drawing again. Using it had been so easy the first time. He’d hardly had to work at all.

  Hours later, he dropped his pencil and exhaled. It was dark outside his window, but his masterpiece was complete. And though his mother wouldn’t like it, he thought the drawing might be his best yet.

  The drawing depicted a hideous version of his mother. Her face was covered in warts and her cruel mouth was toothless. Her long, crooked nose ended in a point almost as sharp as the tall black hat on her head.

  Jackson had drawn her to look like a medieval witch. And that’s how he thought of her at the moment. As a mean, ugly old witch.

  His cellphone rang, startling him, and he snatched it from his backpack. The caller ID told him it was Cameron.

  He answered it quickly but kept his voice down. His mother didn’t say no phone, but she did say no friends. She wouldn’t like him being on it.

  “Hey,” he whispered.

  “Jax, do you have the TV on?” Cameron blurted.

  “No, I’m grounded. I shouldn’t even be on the phone.”

  “Well, you’ll never believe this!” Cameron exclaimed. “It’s Principal Rooney. They’re talking about him on TV!”

  “So?” Jackson said.

  “So his office was torn to shreds,” Cameron said. “The news said it looks like it was done by a wild animal.”

  Jackson’s stomach sank.

  “And Principal Rooney has disappeared!” Cameron continued. “No one knows where he is!”

  “No way,” Jackson gasped in disbelief. “Stop kidding around.”

  “I’m not,” Cameron swore. “Turn on the TV. See for yourself.”

  “I can’t,” Jackson said. “But … but do they think it was a bear?”

  Before his friend could respond, a shadow fell across Jackson’s window. He spun around and came face to face with a monster.
His monster. It was the mutant bear he had drawn on the bus. The beast was standing outside his window!

  Jackson screamed and dropped his phone. The bear-thing looked exactly like his drawing. It was a bear with ram-like horns on its head and spikes on its long tail. Every detail he had drawn had come to life.

  “Impossible!” he gasped.

  As he stared at it, the beast flipped a pair of eyeglasses into its mouth and bit down on them with a loud crunch. Jackson was sure he recognized them. The glasses belonged to Mr. Rooney!

  Had the bear eaten his principal?

  In a panic, Jackson grabbed the No. 13 pencil and riffled through his sketchbook. His breath came in pants. His heart thundered. He had to do something or the bear would eat him too!

  When he found the drawing, he stopped flipping pages and stared at it in horror. There was only one thing he could think to do.

  Erase it.

  He prayed it would work.

  Muttering under his breath, he furiously scrubbed the drawing with the pencil’s eraser. All the while he watched the monster outside his window.

  It continued to watch him too, its horned head tilted curiously to one side. Strands of thick drool streamed from its open jaws.

  “Please work,” Jackson whimpered. “Please, please, please.”

  His prayers were answered.

  The bear-thing faded. Not just on paper but outside his window too. With every swipe of the eraser, the monster grew lighter and lighter. First it became transparent like a ghost. Jackson erased harder. Then it vanished entirely.

  He cheered, letting out a loud whoop. The monster was gone! He had defeated it with only a pencil.

  Maybe the pen really was mightier than the sword.

  Jackson stared at the pencil, turning it over slowly in his hands. Was it magic? Is that how it had