Free Charlie and the War Against the Grannies by Alan Brough

rotting couch.
Two colossal squids had a fight in the house. They threw the toilet, the couch and some pots at each other. They both got badly hurt and had to go to the hospital. While they were in hospital a pigeon moved in.

    Hils checked The Lurker’s map and then walked into the house over to an old bit of string that was hanging from the ceiling. Hils grabbed the string and pulled it three times.
    There was a click.
    Then silence.
    Then nothing happened.
    It was the kind of click-then-silence-then-nothing-happened where you knew that something
was
going to happen very soon. It’s like the nothing-happened just needed a moment to work out what something-happened it was going to turn into.
    It decided.
    Then something happened.
    The house shivered.
    Like it was waking up.
    The house shivered exactly the way my pop does when he’s waking up from his every-afternoon-without-fail nap.
    Pop rocks from side to side in his chair. Then he grunts. Like his brain is telling his body that it should be awake and his body is telling his brain that it wants to stay asleep.
    The brain wins.
    His left eye opens.
    Then his right eye opens.
    Even though his eyes are open they are still dark.
    Then the light comes on in his eyes and Pop is awake.
    From when the lights in his eyes come on it takes about five minutes for the awake to get from his eyes right down to his feet.
    That is pretty much exactly what the house did. Next, the house did something Pop had never done.
    The floor, in front of where I was standing, started to drop down slowly and form a ramp. A ramp which led to a tunnel. A dark, secret tunnel.
    â€˜You’re starting to like The Lurker now, aren’t you?’ said Hils.
    â€˜No,’ I said. ‘But I will admit that he is an important asset.’
    Hils pulled two tiny, really, very, super powerful torches out of her backpack. She handed me one, turned hers on and headed down the ramp into the dark, secret tunnel.
    â€˜There’s a button on the back of the torch that turns it on,’ said Hils.
    â€˜I knew that.’
    I didn’t know that.
    I turned on my torch and followed her down the ramp.

27
THE TUNNEL
    Hils and I reached the bottom of the ramp and stepped off.
    We were in a secret tunnel.
    I was excited.
    The ramp closed behind us with a muffled WHOMP.
    Excited and a little bit scared.
    The tunnel was really, very, super dark.
    A lot scared.
    I heard a
FOOFF
sound and, a long way down the tunnel, I saw a tiny light come on.
    Another
FOOFF
. Another light. But closer.
    Another, louder
FOOFF
. Another light. Even closer.
    I saw that these lights were flaming torches hanging from the walls. They came on one by one, along the tunnel, until they reached where Hils and I were standing.
    The tunnel looked exactly like I’d hoped a secret tunnel would look. It was narrow with a high arched ceiling and rough rocky walls. It smelled like our garden does just after it has rained.
    Behind where we were standing was a wall of solid rock.
    â€˜Looks like there’s only one way we can go,’ said Hils. ‘Straight ahead.’
    We started walking.

    â€˜Hils?’ I said after we had been walking for a long time.
    â€˜Roger,’ said Hils.
    That’s the army way of saying, ‘I’m listening.’
    â€˜This secret tunnel . . . there’s something about it that doesn’t feel completely . . . right,’ I said.
    â€˜Affirmative.’
    â€˜I think I’ve worked out what it is.’
    Hils stopped walking.
    â€˜This secret tunnel is BORING,’ I said.
    â€˜Affirmative. Really boring.’
    â€˜I’ve never been
in
a secret tunnel before but I’ve seen a lot of secret tunnels on TV. None of them have been as boring as this one.’
    â€˜We’ve been walking along this tunnel for ages,’ said Hils, ‘and we should have heard at least one unidentifiable scratching noise which gets louder and louder the further up the