Hogfather

     '... all different.' The black sunken eyes glinted at  her and suddenly the thing reared up,  bony arms waving. 'I was  the dark in  the cave! I was the shadow  in the trees! You've  heard  about... the  primal  scream?  That was... at me! I was...' It folded up and started coughing. 'And then... that thing, you  know, that  thing... all light and bright... lightning you could carry, hot, little sunshine,  and then there was no more dark, just shadows, and then you made axes, axes in the forest, and then... and then...'

     Susan  sat down on the  bed.  'There's still  plenty of  bogeymen,' she said.

     'Hiding under beds! Lurking  in cupboards! But,' it fought  for breath, 'if you had seen me... in the  old days... when  they came  down into the  deep caves  to draw their hunting pictures... I  could roar  in  their heads...  so  that  their stomachs dropped out of their bottoms...'

     'All the old skills are dying out,' said Susan gravely.

     '...  Oh, others came  later... They never knew that first fine terror. All they knew,' even whispering, the  bogeyman managed to get a sneer in its voice, 'was dark corners. I had been the dark! I was the... first! And now I was no better  than them... frightening maids, curdling cream...  hiding  in shadows at the stub of the year... and then one night, I thought... why?'

     Susan  nodded.  Bogeymen  weren't bright.  The  moment  of  existential uncertainty  probably took  a  lot  longer in heads  where  the  brain cells bounced so very slowly from one side of the skull to  the other. But ... Granddad had thought like that. You hung around  with humans long enough and you  stopped  being  what  they  imagined  you  to  be and wanted to  become something of your own. Umbrellas and silver hairbrushes...

     'You thought: what was the point of it all?' she said.

     '...  frightening children... lurking... and  then  I started to  watch them.  Didn't really used to be  children back  in the ice times... just big humans, little  humans,  not children...  and... and there  was  a different world in their heads... In their heads, that's where the  old days were now. The old days. When it was all young.'

     'You came out from under the bed...'

     'I watched over them... kept 'em safe...'

     Susan tried not to shudder.

     'And the teeth?'

     'I... oh, you  can't  leave teeth around,  anyone  might get  them,  do terrible things. I liked them, I didn't  want anyone  to hurt  them...  ' it bubbled. 'I  never wanted to hurt  them, I just  used  to watch, I  kept the teeth  all safe... and, and, and sometimes I just sit here listening to them ... '

     It  mumbled on. Susan  listened in embarrassed amazement,  not  knowing whether to take pity on the  thing or, and this was a  developing option, to tread on it.

     '... and the teeth... they remember ...

     It started to shake.

     'The money?' Susan prompted. 'I don't see many rich bogeymen around.'

     ' ... money everywhere... buried in holes... old treasure... back  of sofas... it adds up... investments...  money for the  tooth, very important, part  of  the  magic,  makes  it  safe,  makes  it  proper,  otherwise  it's thieving... and I labelled 'em all, and kept 'em safe, and... and then I was old, but I  found people...' The  Tooth Fairy sniggered,  and for  a  moment Susan  felt  sorry  for  the  men  in the ancient  caves.  'They  don't  ask questions, do they?'  it bubbled. '...  You give  'em  money and they all do their jobs and they don't ask questions...'

     'It's more than their job's worth,' said Susan.

     I... and then they came... stealing...'

     Susan gave in. Old gods do new jobs.

     'You look terrible.'

     ... thank you very much . .

     'I mean ill.'

     '...very old... all those men, too much effort'

     The bogeyman groaned.

     '... you... don't die here,' it panted. 'Just get old, listening to the laughter...'

     Susan nodded.  It  was  in  the air. She  couldn't hear words,  just  a distant chatter, as if it was at the other end of a long corridor.

     '... and this place... it grew up round me...'

     'The trees,' said Susan. 'And the sky. Out of their heads...'

     '... dying... the little children... you've got to... I'

     The figure faded.

     Susan sat for a while, listening to the distant chatter.

     Worlds  of belief, she  thought. Just like  oysters. A  little piece of shit gets in and then a pearl grows up around it.

     She got up and went downstairs.

     Banjo had found a broom  and  mop somewhere. The circle  was empty and, with surprising initiative, the man was carefully washing the chalk away.

     'Banjo?'

     'Yes, miss.'

     'You like it here?'

     'There's trees, miss.'

     That probably counts as a 'yes', Susan decided. 'The sky  doesn't worry you?'

     He looked at her in puzzlement.

     'No, miss?'

     'Can you count, Banjo?'

     He looked smug.

     'Yes, miss. On m'fingers, miss.'

     'So  you can  count up to... ?' Susan prompted.  'Thirteen, miss,' said Banjo proudly.

     She looked at his big hands.

     'Good grief.'

     Well, she thought, and why not? He's big and trustworthy and what other kind of life has he got?

     'I think it  would  be a good idea  if you did  the  Tooth Fairy's job, Banjo.'