It seems that Sleep Is For The Weak does these great writing meme things. So here’s my contribution based on this week’s Writing Prompt #3
3. Take a well-loved bedtime story that you’ve read so many times you know virtually off by heart. Then re-write yourself and/or an episode of your day into the story.
– Inspired by April’s Tribute to “The Very Hungry Caterpillar”
Dudelet and I both love Neil Gaiman’s The Wolves In The Walls. So this is a rather flimsy tribute written and posted in haste. Plenty of time to repent tomorrow.
Dad Who Writes sat in the front room listening. There were the usual house noises – the cat flap that wouldn’t stick creaking in the wind, the fan in the digital video recorder humming and the little chime of his iPhone announcing the arrival of another seventy two tweets – but there was something else nagging him just out of the reach of his hearing.
He listened harder. The central heating? No, it wasn’t on. This reminded him that he was cold and if he was cold then Dudelet and Little Elf were probably cold too so he tiptoed to the kitchen and turned it up. He went back to the lounge. The pipes began to creak.
Little Elf was restless so when she began to call “Mummy?” (supermum was out at a yoga class), he went and gave her a cuddle. In her room, the noises sounded a little more distinct. He could hear a kind of scraping and at one point he was sure that someone said “Shhh”, though it was a weird, metallic little voice. Or perhaps it was the fan in the DVR or one of the arsenal of strange noises the hard drive could produce at will.
Little elf nestled into his shoulder and went to sleep. Dudelet moaned loudly. Dad Who Writes put Little Elf back her cot, madesure her rabbit was close at hand and went to Dudelet’s door to listen. He heard Dudelet turning over then settling down again.
He went back to the lounge.
“Something isn’t right,” he told his iPhone.
“Tweet,” the iPhone said comfortingly.
An hour later, supermum came home and as it had been a long day, they went to bed too.
Two hours later, they were woken up by Little Elf who yelled once then went back to sleep.
“Those are noisy pipes – did you turn the heating down?” asked supermum.
Dad Who Writes came back from checking the heating that he knew he’d turned down before they went to bed. Then he went back again to get supermum some water “being as you’re already up.”
Then he checked the front door was locked because he had a ‘horrible doubt’. Then he went back to bed. There was definitely a noise
“I think there’s something in the walls,” he told his iPhone.
“Tweet,” the iPhone said, a little more doubtfully but it was still trying to be comforting.
Two hours later, THE DALEKS CAME OUT OF THE WALLS!
“Flee,” shouted supermum, gathering up little elf.
“Choo choo!” shouted little elf, pointing delightedly at a Dalek progressing elegantly along the hallway.
“They can’t get down the stairs,” shouted dudelet from Dad Who Writes’ arms as they tumbled and harum-scarumed down the steps. The Daleks paused at the top of the stairs and the family looked up at them.
“Exterminate!” said the Daleks.
“In the Wolves book,” said dudelet,”Don’t the family go into the walls?”
“I think they hang out at the bottom of the garden while the wolves have a party first,” said Dad Who Writes.”
“It’s too cold in the garden,” said supermum. “Can we cut straight to the walls bit?”
“I’m not sure about the Daleks, actually,” said Dad Who Writes. “Perhaps I should have done a Thomas story instead.”
“Choo choo!” said Little Elf.
Dad Who Writes had thankfully grabbed his iPhone on his way to dudelet’s room and he quickly posted a few revisions. Soon, a number of small, colourful, anthropomorphic engines marshaled by a fat man in a top hat were trundling around the landing. Little Elf charged up the stairs delightedly and the engines fled for their lives.
Then everyone went back to bed.