Speaker 1: Welcome to micro Terrors, scary stories for kids where it's
always the spooky season, full of chills, thrills and spine
tingling spooks. Micro Terrors are family friendly frights for those
ages eight and up, and while our stories are for
younger years, we are still talking about things that go
bump in the night, and some children may not be
able to handle what others can. Parental consent is recommended
now for tonights micro Terror.
Speaker 2: Stitches by Fiona Cosgrove. Eli pulled the collar of his
coat up, bracing against the chill of the icy winter breeze.
He stood staring at the front doors of the museum.
Though museum he thought was a generous term. The weathered
walls were a patchwork of thick ivy, with fresh green
shoots crawling over the dead. The windows were swallowed by
years of overgrown weeds, and moss grew thick over the
exposed brick. An old sign hung above the wooden door,
the words Natural History Museum, just barely visible through the vines.
You ready, kid, asked Skull, Eli's potential new friend. Eli
grimaced as Scull's mid of a hand landed on his shoulder,
squeezing just hard enough to border on pain. Skull towered
two feet over Eli, with broad shoulders wider than those doorways.
In the massive jacket, dark beanie he was wearing did
nothing to make him look less formidable. Nah, he won't
get it, said Rat, one of Skull's underlings. Ratt was
the smallest of the five boys, but ran his mouth
like he was the biggest. He's nothing but talk good,
said Beetle. Beetle tugged his own beanie, lowered down his forehead,
and shot Eli a sharp look. Let's be rid of him.
Then Eli shrunk back. But the last two boys were
more welcoming. They were small, almost frail looking, with the
same pale skin the color of used dishwater. One was
called Mouse and the other tooth Brothers. Both of them
slapped Eli on the back, silent grins stretched on their faces.
They wore the same dusty jackets, zipped right up to
their chin, and neither of them ever spoke. Eli had
met all the boys earlier in the day. Out the
front of his new house. He was carrying boxes in
from the moving van when the hum of bike spokes
descended upon him like a swarm of flies. The misfit
bunch of boys weren't Eli's usual type of friends, but
having moved so much over the past eight years, he
didn't really know what his type even was anymore. What
he did know is that school started in a few days,
and being the new kid with some friends was better
than being the kid with no friends. Yeah, I'm ready,
said Eli, in and out, instructed Skull, and Dan you
one of us, Beatle scoffed, looking Eli up and down
through gritted teeth and ignoring the butterflies skittering in his stomach.
Eli reached for the door, but Skull pulled him back. Easy, kid,
he said, here's a few ground rules, fushted The main
one missed Malcolm the museum guy, said Eli. He said
he wasn't going to be a problem. Isn't he ancient
or something? Mouse and Tooth chuckled to themselves, elbowing each
other and shaking their heads. He's faster than he looks,
said Rat, and stronger. So how do I do it?
Asked Eli? Go sweat it, said Skull. We got you back.
Just keep an eye out for him, is all I'm saying.
And if we say run, you run, got it? Eli nodded.
Skull stared at Eli for a moment, then gave Rat
the nod Obediately. Rat pushed past Eli and reached for
the front door with a screech of rusted hinges. He
pried it open and stepped back. Rat locked eyes with
Eli as he waved his arm graciously into the dark
maw after you. It took Elia a second to get
his legs moving, but once they were in action, they
walked him, albeit a little shakily, inside the building. Eli
immediately winced and clawed at his nose. A musty smell
hung in the air, with something sharper and sour clinging
to it. The museum, as the sign had declared, it
was just a singular room, a big room, but just one.
It was dimly lit and oddly illuminated by a few
fluorescent tube lights suspended from the gabled ceiling. Many of
the chains had long since snapped, giving the lights the
weird impression of broken seesaws hovering mid air. But it
was the temperature that made Eli immediately strip his jumper off.
The air was hot and tepid, as if the whole
room had been steeping in its own juices for decades.
Eli looked at the other boys as they entered the building,
each one of them dressed in jackets, scarves, and beanies.
None of them be robing in the heat, aren't you guys, hot,
Eli asked, tying his jumper around his waist and rolling
up the sleeves of his shirt. All of the boys
ignored him. So what do you think, Skull said, gesturing
to the museum floor. Um well, Eli scanned the room.
Instead of clearly labeled exhibits and marked pathways to walk along,
the needle Cove Natural History Museum was complete chaos. Colonies
of frozen animals jigsawed every free nook of floor space.
There were foxes posed in attack, with rabbits limply draped
in their jaws. Towering high above the floor were several
immobile giraffes and elephants, their heads and trunks only just
shy of the highest part of the roof. Beneath the beasts,
woven around their legs were an assortment of snakes, their
scaled bodies, twisted and curled fangs bared. Shark and whaleheads
lined the walls. Colonies of marsupials were scattered across the floor,
and birds attached to wires suspended from the ceiling. One
animal disappeared into another, and a tapestry of limbs, beaks,
and claws. Eli's throat constricted. What is this place? He eyed,
the frozen herds of animals, their bodies forced into unnatural positions,
their mouths agape and their eyes soulless and glazed over. Taxidairmead,
Rat explained as he shoved past Eli. The old man's
a pro best into business. Rat smirked as he disappeared
between a cheetah posed mid stalk and a horse reared
up on its back legs to text. So what, Eli asked?
Chakes it? Do? Me? Me, repeated Skull, running his finger along
the back of a raccoon mounted to a wooden plaque.
He makes them, said Beetle, walking over to a glass
cabinet displaying rows of pinned insects. He cuts them open,
pickles their skin, and takes out their insides. Then he
stuffs them and stitches them back up. Oh wait, what,
Eli's insidees curled. He immortalizes them, Skull said, giving Beetle
a warning glare, preserving them forever. You know they're glory.
Beetle scoffed, Glory, sure, he's not animal. The old man
won't tackle, added Skull. Mouse and tooth nudged Eli as
they shuffled into the room and wandered into the array
of animals, attempting to ignore the oppressive heat and creeping
claustrophobia of an impending animal avalanche. Eli scoured the room
for any sign of the museum owner. All he could
see were limbs and heads, and fur and scales. It
was impossible to see anything else through the hordes of
lifeless animals. Where is he, Eli asked. Mister Malcolm asked Skull, Oh,
you'll be around. He's a scientist. This, he gestured around
the room, is more of a hobby. He studies these specimens.
You see. We owe him a lot, really. Beadle turned
briefly from the cabinet of insects to address Eli. Heavy
second goots. Eli gulped, a tendril of dread, coiling itself
around his spine. No, he lied, What do I have
to do again? Skull smiled, He's simple. Just pick something,
anything big or small, it doesn't matter, and he won't notice,
said Eli. Scull laughed, Hey, Jacob, look around, kid, would
you notice it? One thing we have missing from here.
Eli I supposed not, but he also hadn't stolen anything
since he was five, when he slipped a chocolate bar
into his mom's purse at the gas station. He dug
his shaking hands into his pockets. For a second, he
considered bailing, heading home to his sofa and TV and
a spaghetti baloney on the stove. But then he remembered
his last school, the eating alone in the toilets, the
peaking around corners to avoid the bullies, the fights at
the bike shed. Now he needed these guys. He just
takes something small, something mister Malcolm would never notice, and
based on the state of the room, he could probably
get away with stealing the giraffe given enough time. Kick
Chuck Skull winked as he disappeared into the sea of
frozen hides. Eli's shoulders were rigid and tense, his spine
ramrod straight, his hands fisted at his sides as he
gave himself a little pep tunk, Get in, get out.
With his mantra firmly in place, he squeezed into the room,
stepping past the crocodile with a family of meerkats dancing
on its tail, and around a mounted sunfish a bite
taken out of its dorsal fin. He paused for a
moment when he saw tarantula nailed to the wall, but
decided it was too high. Instead, he spotted a display
down the side of the building. An eagle was displayed apart,
wings extended across the brick. Its head was hinged upwards,
its claws tucked into its body as if it was
taking flight, But it wasn't the eagle Eli was after.
Around the eagle, an array of birds were perched on
wooden shelves. Eli recognized a few, a raven, a pigeon,
a parrot, and some budgies, but it was the smallest
he was after. A tiny finch sat by itself. A
modeled pattern of brown and cream decorated its wings, and
a small orange beak winked out from beneath two glossy
black eyes. Eli reached his fingers toward it, right as
Beetle appeared next to him. Still tied to turn around,
Beetle said, Eli clenched his fists together. Why do you
hate me, he asked. You don't even know me, and
you don't want me around. Beadle exhaled slowly, his breath,
a weird mixture of vinegar and dust. You don't get it,
do you, Beatle sighed and walked away, but over his
shoulder he mumbled choose wisely. Then Eli felt sweat dripped
down his temple. He couldn't wait to get out of
the building. Without hesitating, he reached up and grabbed the finch.
The little bird's feathers were still soft, but beneath the
fluffy exterior, the creature felt incomprehensibly hard. There was no
give of malleable flesh, no movement of warm skin. He
turned the bird over in his hands, running a finger
over the black stitches that now held the creature together.
It felt unusual, uncomfortable, unnatural. With a shiver, Eli closed
his eyes and tucked the bird away. He spun around,
ready to find skull, proof of his allegiance, neatly hidden
in his jean pocket. But instead of skull or any
of the boys, an aged man, all crevices and sagging skin,
stood behind him. He wore a pair of dark green coveralls.
Splotches of crimson stained the fabric, and he wore thick
glasses that magnified his eyes, and the wrinkles etched around them.
What do we have here? The man said, his breath
catching between the gaps and his teeth unraveling into a
whisper of a whistle. I A Eli stuttered, his words,
disappearing before they made it from his lips. The man
smelt like chemicals and death as he advanced on Eli,
arms outstretched, head tilted curiously. What a delightful specimen? Eli
backed up, knocking the shelf behind him, sending a handful
of budgies toppling to the floor. The man looked down,
his lips curving into a frown as deep lines sunk
into his forehead. You're mister Malcolm, Eli breathed, Then, without
waiting for a response, he ran. He's here, Eli yelled,
bolting through the maze of animals towards the doors. Skull
peered out from behind a buffalo, looking over Eli's shoulder.
Who's here? Eli didn't stop, mister Malcolm SkELL turned for
the doors and yelled across the room. What. There was
a thunder of footsteps around the museum as all the
boys took off. Mouse and tooth almost slammed into Eli
as they surfaced between a collection of owls and zebras.
Eli's heart was slamming against his rib cage, and the
finch in his pocket felt like a ball of lava
burning a hole in his leg. All four boys turned
to the corner, sliding along the wooden floorboards. Rat was
already at the door, Beatles standing to his side. Rat
pulled back on the handle, but the door didn't budge.
He tried again, yanking it backwards, but it just rattled,
locked firmly in place. Gie's way, Skull said, ripping open
a curtain tucked along the wall. Behind the curtain, a
skinny hallway stretched around the back of the building. Eli
could hear the calm footsteps of mister Malcolm as he
loped towards them. In his quiet voice, as he spoke
a lot of work to do, mister Malcolm whispered, a
lot of work. Indeed. Eli felt the hairs on the
back of his neck tingled to attention. The soft, eerie
whistle of mister Malcolm's words nudged him towards the hallway.
Let's go, he said, running under the curtain and down
the hall door. At the end, Skull yelled. Eli didn't hesitate.
He barreled down the hallway and into the door relief
slid over him as it opened easily, and he stull.
He went through, but it only took a second for
panic to creep back in. He wasn't on the outside
of the museum, but instead in a hemmed in room.
A cylindrical glass chamber filled with cloudy liquid sat to
his left, while a steel table sat in front of him.
Against the wall hung a collection of sharpened instruments perfect
for slicing, dicing, and skinning. The room had a chemical taste,
with a lingering stench of decay embedded in the very walls.
Eli backed up, bumping into something hard. When he turned,
he saw a skull, flanked by mouse and tooth rat
right behind them. Beetle entered last, his gate slow and
arms crossed as he headed straight to the corner of
the room. We got to get out of here, said Eli,
trying to push past skull. But skull was like a
brick wall, hard and rigid. Un naturally so not so fast,
kid smirked skull. Eli's limbs trembled as he stepped back.
Oh what's going on here? Are we the preparation room,
said skull, on zipping his jacket. Mouse, tooth and rat followed,
removing their outer layers the what Eli was breathless and pale.
He felt like the air had been sucked from the
room as the edges of his vision turned black. What
are you doing? Skull tossed his jacket to the floor
and began unraveling the scarf from his neck. He was
an interesting choice, he said, a finch, Rats snorted, peeling
off his own scarf. If I had my time over,
I'd built with something like a lion or python. But
it's hard to fit one of those in your pocket,
you know. And hey, at least I'm not Beetle Forever.
Mouse and Tooth had already lost their jackets and scarves
as they tossed their beanies into the growing pile of
winter clothes. Eli watched as their bare skin was exposed,
his mouth dry, his shoulders heavy, his ribs pressing down
against his heart. What are those lift? The single finger,
light headed and unsteady as he pointed at the criss
cross of stitches decorating the boy's necks, wrists, and scalps.
Skull ran a hand over the ridged thread that made
his head look like a patchwork quilt. The flesh Human's
a hota than other animals, he said, But mister Malcolm
hasn't slipped since mouse and tooth. Mouse and tooth both
grinned as they lifted their heads, revealing scarred, raised skin
marked with double stitching across their throats. I think they're better.
I mute to eaty ways, laughed rat Eli reached a
hand up to his own throat. I wouldn't worry, said Skull.
Mister Malcolm's getting better all at time, is any Beetle.
Beetle was lingering in the back, hiding in the shadows. Reluctantly,
he stepped forward and removed his beanie. The stitches across
his scalp were less prominent, but still clearly visible. Dark
thread ran from behind Beetle's ear, disappearing under the collar
of his shirt. Clear line was stitched right around the
base of his neck. STU would have be a part
of the gang, asked Beadle, his eyes downcast. Sad Eli's
knees buckled, his legs giving way. He collapsed to the floor,
the cool tiles providing a momentary relief from the heat
swimming across his skin. The sweaty kid said, Skull, you'll
be one of us in no time. Eli was frozen,
stuck in place. He couldn't move, not even when mister
Malcolm walked into the room, not even when mister Malcolm
took out his scissors, not even when mister Malcolm made
the first incision. Are you dying for more from this
week's author, Fiona Cosgrowth. If so, be sure to check
out our latest short story collection, All That Slithers Thirteen
Stories to Squeeze Your Brain, a genre bending collection of
bubblegum horror stories for ages ten to one hundred and ten.
Get your copy on Amazon or by visiting Fionacosgrove writer
dot com. Coming up next week on micro Terrors Scary
Stories for Kids is Valentine's Day, and we'll celebrate with
a sweet, crunchy revenge story called Candy Dude. In the meantime,
be sure to head on over to micro terrrist dot
com for all the latest updates. To check out our
merch store, sign up for the monthly newsletter, and become
one of the Terrified by joining the fan club and
unlocking tons of cool perks. Right now, you can also
participate in the It's your Choice, Choose your Own Adventure
collaboration between micro Terror's author Scott Nonnelly, and fanclub members.
Every Friday, there's a new piece of the story revealed
this coming Wednesday. You choose where goes next. I'm Darren Marler.
Thank you all for being such dedicated micro Terrors listeners.
Speaker 1: We'll see you again next week. If you have the nerve.
Thank you for listening to micro Terrors. Join us each
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