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Authors: David Lubar

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BOOK: The Curse of the Campfire Weenies

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K
aren fought with Stacy over the necklace. She knew she'd seen it first, even though she was halfway across the shop when she spotted it. Stacy had no right to try to grab it before she could get there.

They'd ended up tugging at the necklace, pulling hard, yanking, until Karen was afraid the chain would break. But it held. It was a strong chain, made of hundreds of tiny links. It was a long, beautiful chain, from which hung the most lovely green stone Karen had ever seen.

“It's mine,” Karen said. “I want it. I saw it first. You know I love silver.”

“Oh, all right.” Stacy released her end. She turned away from Karen and picked up a tie-dyed scarf from another table. “This is a lot nicer, anyhow.”

Karen ran her fingers over the chain, then stroked the polished surface of the wonderful green stone that hung from it. The gem was the size of a robin's egg. She was sure the color perfectly matched her eyes. Karen smiled as she
realized she'd won the battle. She usually won her battles with Stacy.

But could she afford it?

She checked the price tag.
This can't be right,
Karen thought as her delight wrestled with suspicion. She approached the owner of the shop, who sat behind the counter working on a crossword puzzle.

“Excuse me,” Karen said, her voice sounding strangely empty in this dusty place of ancient objects.

“Yes?”

“This is twelve dollars, right?”

The man nodded.

Karen couldn't believe her luck. Quickly, before anything could change, she paid for the necklace.

“Would you like a bag?” the man asked as he placed her change on the counter.

“I'll wear it,” she said, fastening the necklace around her neck.

As she put it on, she glanced into a grimy, cracked mirror on an old dresser. She couldn't help smiling. The necklace looked beautiful. And so did she.

“You have to admit, I was born to wear this,” she told Stacy as they left the shop.

“Yeah,” Stacy mumbled as she tied the scarf on her head.

“Hey, you still angry?” Karen asked.

Stacy shook her head. “Not really.”

“Good.” Karen couldn't wait to get to her room so she could admire the necklace in a clean mirror.

She said good-bye to Stacy and hurried home.

Later, Karen was pretty sure it had been a combination of things that had released the creature. The mirror might have played a part. And perhaps the perfume she'd dribbled on her neck. Stroking the gem must have done somethingâlike stroking Aladdin's lamp. Maybe the tune she'd been humming even played a role.

Whatever the cause, the result happened quickly. One instant, Karen was alone in her room, admiring her purchase. The next, a jet of green steam shot from the gem and splashed against the mirror. A thick and clotted liquid formed on the glass, oozing down onto her dresser, covering most of the surface and then rising, taking shape, growing into a creature perhaps two feet high and almost as wide.

Karen was too shocked to scream. She stood, silently trembling, watching as the creature took final form, solidifying, becoming almost more real than she could bear. He had a large head, as wide as his shoulders, and massive hands that drooped all the way down to his feet. He opened his mouth and hissed. He reached out with one hand, tipped with jagged nails, and started to swipe at her as if he wanted to rip her face off.

Then he stopped.

Karen could tell he was staring at the gem.

And that was when she knew she was at a crossroad. The necklace, and this creature, could be either the greatest thing that ever happened to her or the worst. This was deep, secret magic that could help her or hurt
her. If she was smart and brave, the world could be hers. If she was foolish, she was sure she would suffer.

“The gem,” she said. “You can't hurt me when I wear the gem. Is that right?”

“Yes,” the creature said in a voice that sounded like acid eating through metal.

“You must obey my orders. Right?” She was sure of it.

“Yes.”

“What can you do for me?” Karen asked.

“Anything you desire, I can get. Anywhere you wish to be, I can take you,” the creature said. “I can do anything except change the past or break a bargain.”

“Then I would likeâ” Karen stopped. There had to be a catch. There had to be a cost. She'd read too many fairy tales to believe otherwise. “What must I give in return?” she asked, proud of her cleverness. She knew most people would never have thought to ask this crucial question.

The creature reached to his side and touched a small gold candlestick that stood on the edge of the dresser. He scraped his nail along the base, shaving off a gleaming sliver.

“Hey, you're scratching it,” Karen said.

The creature ignored her protest and held his hand out. “A small payment,” he said. “A tiny piece of gold.” He stared down at his hand, as if weighing the metal. “Just this much. Each day.”

Karen looked at the candlestick. The shaving was very small. It was nothing. What harm could there be? Karen smiled as she realized how stupid this creature was. He
could scratch that candlestick as much as he wanted. It wouldn't matter. All she had to do was ask for another one. But she was also proud of her ability to strike a bargain. There was no way she'd let him have what he wanted.

“Not gold,” she said. She pointed to another candlestick. “Silver.”

The creature glared at her without speaking. Karen realized she was in control. The feeling of power made her shiver.
I've won,
she thought. She waited, knowing the creature would accept.

Still glaring, he said, “Very well. A tiny piece of silver. Do we have a bargain?”

Karen nodded, then said, “Bring me a perfect strawberry.”

It was winter. There was no good fresh fruit at the local market.

The creature nodded. “As you wish.”

He melted into the floor. An instant later, he returned, holding one perfect red strawberry in his claws.

Karen took the berry carefully, avoiding any contact with the creature's skin. As she placed the fruit in her mouth, she felt as if the act of eating the strawberry was sealing her forever in a bargain with this creature. She quickly forgot such thoughts as she bit into the fruit. It tasted wonderful.

“What shall I call you?” she asked.

“Izma,” the creature replied.

“Fetch me another strawberry, Izma,” Karen said.

Fruit by fruit, she ate her fill, then grew tired of the game. She gazed out the window at the cold land. “Take me somewhere lovely and warm.”

Izma performed a series of motions with his claws. The world flew past Karen and she found herself on a beach. She stood for a moment, blinking against the brightness and enjoying the wonderful warmth of the tropical sun and the soft crunch of pure white sand beneath her feet.

“Bathing suit,” she said, and Izma caused her to be dressed in clothing more suited to the beach.

“Chair.” Karen stretched, drank in the sun, and thought about all the marvelous things she could do from this day forward. And she thought how her friends would be rewarded and how her enemies would finally suffer.

Life was certainly on its way to becoming fabulous.

“What can you do to my enemies?” Karen asked.

Izma told her.

Karen shuddered. Then she smiled.

That evening, tanned from the sun and filled with the peace of the ocean, Karen slept well.

The next day, she began reshaping the world. She sent her parents away. They weren't needed anymore. She took her name off the school roster. But that didn't seem like a good enough way to leave her old world behind. So she went to school, stood outside the teachers' lounge, and commanded, “Turn the teachers into frogs.”

The frogs weren't very interesting or exciting. “Turn the boys into snakes,” Karen said.

That seemed to get the attention of the frogs and of the girls.

After Karen returned to the beach, she decided that none of her friends really deserved anything. What had they ever done for her?

She got a mansion, a castle, a palace, and a penthouse suite. She got a hundred cats. Then she tired of them and got a dozen tigers.

But always, each day, as she made her wishes, she could see one thing in Izma's eyes. He was waiting for her to make a mistake. He was waiting for her to remove the gem that protected her. One slip, and the dream would become a nightmare. She'd seen Izma chase down small animals and do horrible things to them.

Karen knew she was too smart to become his victim.

A month passed, and Karen was sure that, unlike others who might grow bored with luxury and a perfect life, she would be happy forever. There was so much to do, so much to try. So many people who deserved to suffer. The world was hers.

She stood in the bedroom of her palace, admiring herself in the mirror. Maybe she would go to see the pyramids today or perhaps the rain forest. Then one flaw caught her eye, and all thoughts of travel fell from her mind like dead leaves.

At first, she didn't understand. Or didn't want to understand. She stared at a small patch of untanned skin just below her neck. The spot was the same shape as her gem. But it wasn't where it should have been.

The patch was lower than the gem. Which meant the gem had moved higher. There was only one way that could happen.

Karen's right hand flew to her neck, clutching the gem, almost ripping it off.

She froze as she heard a hiss of anticipation from the corner of the room, where Izma stood awaiting her wishes.

“No,” Karen said aloud.
This isn't happening. It's just my imagination.

But that night, as she lay in bed, she counted the tiny links. She counted them again the next night. She counted twice to make sure.

And she counted them again the night after that.

There was no mistake. A link had vanished from her chain each day.

A tiny piece of silver.

The words came back to her. He'd asked for gold, but she'd cleverly forced him to accept less than he'd wanted. Karen sat up in bed and turned on the light. Across the room, Izma stood, watching her.

“Take the silver from elsewhere,” she said.

Izma shook his head. “We have a bargain.”

“Forget the bargain,” Karen said. “I don't want anything else.”

“It is too late to change our bargain.”

Karen held her hand on the chain that was slowly growing shorter, one tiny bit of silver at a time, slowly closing around her neck. Already, even though the necklace was
not yet tight, she found herself struggling to breathe. Karen fingered the clasp.

“Tell me what will happen if I remove this,” she said.

His eyes gleaming in anticipation, Izma told her.

Karen shuddered. Then she screamed.

ALEXANDER WATCHES A PLAY

A
lexander would much rather have gone to a movie or just stayed at home and watched television. But his mother had bought a ticket to the new production at the Sommerset Children's Theater, and she was the sort of mom who would never let anything go to waste. So Alexander knew there was no way out.

“What's it about?” he asked as his mother dropped him off in front of the building.

She handed him the ticket. “I don't know. It doesn't say. You'll find out. I'm sure it will be wonderful.”

“Right.” Alexander gave his ticket to a man at the door, then headed into the lobby. He looked around. There were no signs or posters. No popcorn, either.

Alexander stepped inside and found his seat. It was in the front row. A moment later, the man who'd taken his ticket walked out from behind the curtains. “Welcome,” he said. “It's my pleasure to introduce our final production of the season. So sit back and enjoy yourself while
the Sommerset Children's Theater presents the world premiere of
Alexander Watches a Play.
”

Alexander sat up in his seat at the sound of his own name. The curtain opened. On the stage, a boy and his mother were sitting on wooden chairs inside a cardboard box painted to look like a car.

“What's it about?” the boy onstage asked.

He wasn't a very good actor, Alexander thought.
I could do better than that. Not that I'd ever want to be in a stupid play.

Onstage, the boy's mother answered. She didn't seem to be a very good actor, either. They talked for a moment; then the boy walked through a door. The curtain closed.

What in the world â¦ ?
Alexander wondered.

The curtain opened. The stage had a row of theater seats. The boy onstage was watching another stage. A man walked out in front of the curtains of the new stage. “Welcome. It's my pleasure to introduce our final production of the season.”

The man introduced the play. The curtain behind him opened. Alexander watched as the boy onstage watched another boy who was sitting in box painted to look like a car.

This can't go on,
Alexander thought.

But it did. He watched a play about a boy named Alexander who watched a play about a boy who watched a play, and on and on. The theater seemed to get endlessly deeper as each new version started. Alexander thought about getting up and leaving, but he was curious to know
how long the play could keep going. After a while, the actors were so far away that Alexander could barely make them out. He had to strain to hear what they were saying.

Then, far off, he heard an actor cry, “Oh no, the balcony is falling.”

There was a crash. Another voice cried out, “The poor boy. He's been crushed.”

The farthest curtain closed. Once again, Alexander heard: “Oh no, the balcony is falling,” followed by another slightly louder crash.

Theater by theater, the crash came closer. Soon it was on the stage right in front of Alexander. A man on the stage shouted, “Oh no, the balcony is falling.” Then the Alexander onstage shot up from his seat and turned around. But instead of running, he froze.

“Stupid kid,” Alexander muttered. This was just too unrealistic, like one of those hokey wrestling matches where one guy is lying there, acting too stunned to get up, and the other guy takes forever to make his next move.

“Run, you idiot!” Alexander shouted. He watched as the balcony onstage fell right on top of the actor playing Alexander. It seemed to move in slow motionâgroaning and creaking for a while and then finally toppling. As the curtain closed, Alexander looked up. The theater's balcony was right over his head. A strange groan came from above.

A man at the end of Alexander's aisle shouted, “Oh no, the balcony is falling.”

I'm outta here!
Alexander knew he had plenty of time
to reach the exit before the balcony fell. He shot from his seat and turned around, planning to make a dash for the exit. Instead, Alexander froze, stunned by what lay in front of him. His row of seats was on a stage. He squinted into the lights, then looked out at the people in the audience. That alone wouldn't have been quite enough to keep him frozen. But beyond the theater, he saw another, and another, and another, stretching away forever.

“Stupid kid,” a boy muttered from darkness.

The boy shouted something else, but the words were drowned out in the crash and clatter of the collapsing balcony.

BOOK: The Curse of the Campfire Weenies

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