Abbie Jones
The creatures under the carpet
George hated moving houses. It was as simple as that.
Every year something happened to stop them living peacefully in their house. Every
year mum promised him that they wouldn’t have to move house ever again, but here
he was, standing outside in the pouring rain, lugging his suitcases towards this
spooky building which was to be his new home.
Lightening crackled overhead and thunder boomed in George’s ears when he
stumbled towards the giant tower that loomed over him from the darkness.
Hammering down like daggers, the rain soaked him to the skin as he pushed open
the ancient door that creaked like it hadn’t been opened for centuries.
Inside, a musty odour drifted up his nostrils. When he walked across the brightly
coloured carpet, clouds of dust puffed up into the atmosphere making George cough
and splutter. That was when he noticed the movement under the carpet. Scampering
up the stairs, he dumped his cases in his room and half ran, half jumped back down
to find out what the bumps under the carpet were.
However, when he reached the sitting room it was as if they had never been there.
“Must have been my imagination,” he muttered, frowning slightly as he walked slowly
in the direction of the television.
“Ow!” George shouted, but he was soon distracted from the pain when he saw
something move next to his foot. Was he imagining it or could he hear a squeak?
George bent down, lifted up the corner of the carpet and saw, to his massive
surprise, a hedgehog! Surely his eyes must be playing tricks on him now?
Suddenly, out from a hole in the floorboards, a crab and slightly later on, a snail
appeared.
“Let me introduce us to you. Are you going to be living in this desolate mansion?”
drawled the snail, “My name is Slimy, this is my friend Snappy and this is Spiky.” He
pointed to the crab then the hedgehog in turn.
“Hello, I’m George,” George replied, after recovering from his shock, “Yes, I’m going
to be living here with my mum and dad. When was the last time anyone stepped foot
in this place? It looks really dirty!”
“We’ve been living here for years; alone with no one but Gibby the rat!” snapped the
rusty-red crab.
George turned his freckly face towards Snappy. He had razor sharp pincers and his
six legs moved awkwardly when he scuttled anxiously sideways. Snappy always
moved nervously as if he didn’t have a right to be where he was; a fact that George
would learn as he got to know the crab better. However, Snappy never hesitated to
say exactly what he thought!
“Who is Gibby?” George asked, inquisitively.
“Well as I said, he is a rat. A mean rat. A stupid, evil rat!” Snappy was shouting but
Spiky calmed him down instantly.
“What he is trying to tell you is that no one has lived here for years and we’re all fed
up with Gibby jumping down our throats whenever we talk,” Spiky explained calmly,
“We are all getting quite annoyed and Snappy is getting slightly short-tempered.
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Could you be our friend? We’ve been living between ourselves for ages and I can tell
you, with arguments springing up out of the blue, Gibby’s company is useless. Your
presence could settle us all down so that we can live separately form the nasty rat.”
“Of course I’ll be your friend! But I think my parents will want to look around soon so
you’d better scarper. I’ll see you after tea. Mum and Dad will be upstairs packing.
Bye!” George whispered.
Swinging the door open, Mum stepped into the hall, whilst George raced upstairs to
his new room.
“Georgey, dear?” shouted Mum, “Dad’s bringing all your possessions in so you can
either help him or wait in the sitting room until it’s time to unpack.”
“I’ll be in the front room, Mum!” George exclaimed, triumphantly, sprinting into the ‘TV
room’ as he had called it in their old house.
“Slimy, Snappy, Spiky!” George called, but there was no reply.
Just then, a mean, scruffy (and rather pongy) rat peeped round from the back of an
oak cabinet. Gibby.
“Why hello, what have we here?” sneered Gibby, sniffing at George curiously.
“My name is George,” said George, impatiently, staring at Gibby.
His fur was clumped together and smeared with dirt. A small tuft of spiky hair stuck to
the top of his head just above his shades, which were supposed to be cool but just
made him look ugly, and his long, tangled and droopy whiskers made him look
messier than he already was. Gibby’s fur was short but shaggy therefore only grease
and miniature particles escaped the terrible scratching of the rat’s claws and
managed to cling on; even though some parts had started to smell.
“Slimy, Snappy, Spiky,” mocked Gibby, “What do you want to see them for?” but at
the sound of footsteps on the drive (Gibby had very sensitive hearing), he dived into
a crack in the skirting board as quick as a flash. George slowly replaced the carpet
and scrambled up the stairs to unpack and set out his possessions.
Months later, Spiky, Slimy, Snappy and George were getting on like a house on fire.
George had started school and was thoroughly enjoying it. He had made several
friends but secretly wished that Spiky or Slimy or even Snappy could come because
he was missing them whilst he was at school, whereas at home he talked to them
whenever he had time!
One beautiful, dreamy day when there wasn’t a single cloud to be seen in the
cornflower blue sky, not even a wisp of white, George arrived home from school with
a huge smile on his face and as usual left his bags on the stairs. Lifting up the carpet,
George called for his friends; they appeared immediately, however, they brought bad
news with them.
“It’s Gibby’s birthday soon and he is inviting all his family and friends,” explained
Spiky in her usual soft voice, although everybody else groaned, “Whenever his
friends come round, it means trouble, with a capital T. Last time, Sloppy (Slimy’s
sister) lost her shell and unfortunately…” she lowered her voice until it was scarcely
even a whisper, “she passed away.”
George gasped. Slimy started to sob. Snappy shivered with the memory of it, the
terrible incident, however, Spiky just glanced at everyone with her comforting, hazelbrown eyes, cheering everybody up tremendously.
Soon, Gibby’s birthday had arrived.
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“Congratulations!” everyone shouted when he poked his head out of his hole and set
off to gather his guests.
Marching round the rug then disappearing into Gibby’s hidey hole, the guests looked
even grubbier than Gibby himself not to mention a whole lot stinkier. They reeked!
Confidently tapping the wall, George found himself asking where he was having his
party.
“Not here,” Gibby answered and George heaved a sigh of relief.
However, soon, in a neat, orderly line, Gibby’s company started the party in the
kitchen.
“No!” screamed George in his head, and ran into the room, covering the cupboards
attempting to protect the food (failing to do so).
Unfortunately, George’s parents marched in at that exact wrong moment.
“George what is happening in here!” dad asked angrily.
Instantly, mum saw the rats tucking into their food stock and before George even
had time to answer dad’s question or understand what was happening he found
himself upstairs putting away all of his ornaments and furniture in his room.
How could he say good-bye to his animal friends?
Would he ever see them again?
They had had such an amazing time together and now they had to separate. It was
especially hard to leave them because he was the only proper friend they had ever
had, meaning that they would miss George dreadfully and of course he would miss
them!
George hated leaving that house, not just because he had to move somewhere else,
but because Spiky had treated him ever so kindly and he would never forget it!
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