The Halloween Mouse

The

Halloween

Mouse

By Richard Laymon

Pictures by Alan M. Clark

Cemetery Dance Publications

Baltimore

2001

Dedicated in loving memory to Richard Laymon

Text copyright © 2001 by Richard Laymon

Illustration copyright © 2001 by Alan M. Clark

Book design by Alan M. Clark

Published by Cemetery Dance Publications

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in whole or in part, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission of publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review.

All Persons in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance that may seem to exist to actual persons living or dead is purely coincidental. This is a work of fiction.

ISBN 1-58767-047-X

Cemetery Dance Publications

P.O. Box 943

Abingdon MD 21009

U.S.A.

http://www.cemeterydance.com

Printed in the United States of America

First Edition

10 987654321

Timothy Maywood Usher Mouse was a fine young lad who lived in the Elmwood Public library.

In the library he liked to read stories about great, thrilling adventures . . . tales of giants and pirates and bandits, of secret treasures and gallant journeys, of lost tribes and narrow escapes.

"I should like to have such an adventure myself," Timothy often thought.

But then he looked out the library window

The outside world looked very big.

So very big and strange, not at all like his cozy library with its shelves and its books . . . its many many books that were full of such wonderful adventures.

He wasn't sure he wanted to leave his library.

"But I must," he told himself. "If it's such fun to read an adventure, it must be ten times more fun to have one."

And so he kept watch out the window . . . watching for just the right sort of day for starting a great adventure.

Some days were gray and rainy. He hoped for an adventure, not a soaking.

Some days, the wind blew so hard he supposed that a tiny fellow such as himself might be blown clear off his feet and into the next town.

Other days, he spied dogs and cats on the library's lawn. He had read many tales about cats and dogs, so he knew they might like to eat him.

"I would rather have none of that," thought Timothy.

And so he waited and watched.

Finally, there came just the right sort of day. The sun was bright. The wind looked mild. Across the street, the trees down by the river were full of bright leaves. Most of them stayed in the trees. Others fell softly, moving sideways in the gentle breeze. Some landed on the ruffled water of the river and floated slowly away.

For as far as Timothy could see, he saw no dogs or cats.

"This is just the day for me!" he thought. "Out I'll go, and have a great adventure!"

"Or should I?" he wondered.

What if a nasty storm is just around the corner? Or what if a dog is? Or a quick and hungry cat?

"I'll wait just a little while longer. Just to make sure it's safe."

He waited and waited.

No dog or cat or storm came by.

Soon, the sun took on a wonderful golden color. It spread its gold over the trees and grass and river.

"My, oh my," thought Timothy. "I've never seen such a beautiful day. If I don't go out now, I'll be sorry. There might never be a better day than this."

The window gave him some trouble. He was a good, strong mouse, but only a mouse. Though he tried and tried, the window stayed shut.

The sun moved lower in the sky outside.

Though only a mouse, Timothy was a very smart mouse. He went and got a pencil and pried the window open.

"Ah ha!" he said.

Out he rushed, and over the sill and down the ivy-covered wall. Before long, he came to the ground.

"That was easily done," he thought.

Then he turned to the lawn.

"Oh, dear."

From his window, the lawn had looked like a soft carpet of green.

Down here, it looked like a million blades of grass, each one taller than Timothy himself. He couldn't see over them, not even on his tiptoes.

"Oh, well," he said. "Adventures do have their ups and downs."

With that, he marched into the field.

"I do hope I don't get lost. It might add spice to my adventure, but I would rather go without it. This is only my first adventure. I should like to keep it simple."

Pushing through the grass was not so hard, but more than grass got in his way. Sometimes, he had to circle around pine cones and small stones. Other times, he needed to climb over twigs and branches.

One old stick was shiny and had very bright stripes. While Timothy climbed over it, it moved.

He almost fell, but didn't.

"A moving branch," he thought. "How wonderful!"

He had never read of such a thing.

"It just goes to show, books don't tell you everything."

With his arms out like a tightrope walker, he rode the branch through the grass.

"I do hope it's taking me in the best direction."

Then he thought, "Oh, well, really . . . any direction is fine with me. It doesn't matter where an adventure happens, just so it happens."