Fern, Arthur, Francine, Alan, Sue Ellen, and Van gasped when they heard the
dreadful news.
"Not Grandma Tibble!" cried Francine.
"She wasn't that old!" exclaimed Alan.
"How did she die?" asked Sue Ellen.
"They think it was a heart attack," Mrs. Read answered.
Timmy put his hand over his chest. "She put her hand like this," he recounted, "and then she fell over."
"Then we raced each other to the phone to call 911," Tommy added. "I got there first."
Having said that, the boys began to cry bitterly. Fern sank to her knees and put her arms around them, whispering words of comfort.
"I never met Grandma Tibble," said Van. "Dallin says she's really nice, and she gives out milk and cookies."
"Chocolate chip peanut butter," Arthur chimed in. "The best in the world."
Mr. and Mrs. Read collapsed onto the couch, and D.W. climbed into her mother's lap. "What about Tommy and Timmy?" she asked in a worried tone.
"Yeah, what about them?" asked Francine as she stood up from her drum kit. "Where are their parents? Do they even have parents?"
"Their mother's probably having a good time traveling the world," Sue Ellen remarked.
Fern, still clutching the twins, narrowed her eyes and spoke indignantly. "She hasn't wasted all the money from her divorce yet. I bet she won't even come back for them."
"Don't talk like that in front of the boys," Mr. Read admonished her.
"She's so irresponsible!" Fern complained.
"That's enough," said Mr. Read sternly.
"The important thing," said Mrs. Read, "is that we find someone to take care of the boys until their mother, or some other relative, arrives. That may take a day or two."
Fern rose to her feet. "I'll do it, Mrs. Read," she offered.
"Yeah!" Tommy wiped his tears and grinned. "We want Fern to babysit us."
"She tells the scariest stories," said Timmy.
"You're braver than I am," said Arthur, pushing himself up from the piano bench.
Mr. Read slowly rose from the couch. "First of all, let's get some food in their stomachs. How long has it been since you boys ate?"
"Like that makes any difference," Francine butted in.
"I'm making a souffle," said Mr. Read, smiling.
"Oh, yeah! We like slouffe!" Timmy enthused. Mr. Read walked toward the kitchen, and the twins chased after him.
Mrs. Read, with D.W. still wiggling in her lap, gave Fern a tired but grateful look. "After we've had some dinner, then you can take the boys to their house, and tell them scary stories, or tie them up with duct tape, or whatever it is you do to keep them from getting in trouble. Just don't say bad things about their mother in front of them, okay?"
"Yes, Mrs. Read," said Fern meekly.
"And don't forget to call your parents and tell them where you are," Mrs. Read added.
"Can I go too, Mom?" asked Arthur. "I'll bet I can tell scarier stories than Fern."
"I don't know about that," said Francine. "I still remember Fern's story about the platinum dragon."
"Yeah, but you never heard my story about..." Arthur held up his arms menacingly. "...THE SWAMP THING!"
"All right, Arthur, you can go," said Mrs. Read. "But don't scare them too much. They've been through enough already."
----
"AAAARRGGHH!" Tommy and Timmy screamed in terror and wrapped their arms around each other.
"And then," recounted the wide-eyed Fern, "after the giant snake had swallowed the two scientists whole, they began to...digest!" She started to make sucking noises with her lips.
"Ewww!" The Tibble boys grimaced with disgust.
"Soon there was nothing left but their bones," Fern went on. "And the giant snake couldn't digest the bones, so it vomited them out! Bleeeaaagh! The end."
"That was...really...scary, Fern," said Tommy, whose knees were quivering.
"Tell another one," said Timmy, who was shaking from head to toe.
Fern sat down on the hardwood floor of the Tibble living room. As Arthur rose to his feet, he motioned toward the suit of medieval armor that stood next to the front door.
"I went to a museum once," he began, "and I saw a suit of armor just like that one. In fact, there were a whole bunch of them. They had swords, and maces, and axes..."
"Were they empty, like that one?" asked Timmy.
"No," Arthur replied. "I thought they were empty, up until I got locked in the museum overnight, and found out that...somebody was inside of them!"
As Arthur described his fictional museum adventure to the boys, Fern suddenly perked up her ears. "Quiet," she half-whispered. "Do you hear that?"
"This is my story, Fern," said Arthur.
"No, I hear something!" Fern's ears flopped about as she waved her head from side to side. "Someone's in the house besides us!"
Leaping to her feet, she hurried across the room to a mildewed wooden door that appeared to not have been opened for a long time. Pressing the side of her head against it, she listened carefully.
"That goes to the cellar," Timmy informed her. "Grandma doesn't let us go down there."
Pulling her head away from the door, Fern grasped the rusted brass handle with both hands. With some effort she succeeded in opening the old, creaking door wide enough to permit a child to pass.
"I, uh, don't think you should go in there," Arthur warned her.
"Stay here," Fern said to him. She then slipped through the doorway and disappeared into the blackness.
The first thing she noticed was a strong smell of mothballs. The corridor was almost completely dark, except for a few weak glimmers of outside light that crept through slits in the walls. Nervous but determined, she took a few steps forward...and her face made contact with a gigantic cobweb.
"Oh!" Sputtering, she frantically brushed the strands of spider silk from her face. She felt a sensation of something with many legs crawling along her upper lip and into her mouth. She spit several times, then swallowed. For all she knew, the creature had gone down her throat.
Undaunted, Fern raised her hands in front of her face and took several more hesitant steps forward. The floor underneath her feet gave way to what seemed to be a staircase. She carefully descended, and the wooden steps creaked loudly as if they would break under the pressure.
After walking down about twenty steps and pushing aside a comparable number of cobwebs, she rounded a corner and found herself in a large room with a low stone ceiling. She couldn't understand how any grownup, even a short one like Grandma Tibble, could maneuver in this place. In the dim light she saw elaborate spiderwebs adorning every wall. The room was filled with trunks and old furniture, much of which was in a state of decay as a result of the stagnant moisture covering the floor. Various small articles of clothing were lying and rotting where they had probably been dropped decades earlier.
"Is anybody here?" Fern called out. There was no answer, not even an echo. From the living room overhead, she could hear Arthur regaling the twins with his tale of mystery and horror.
She walked slowly toward the middle of the room, and was soon surrounded by old trunks, several of which were not fully closed and had fabric hanging out of them. Standing in front of her was an ancient dresser with a large, broken upright mirror attached to the top. She strained to see her reflection in the darkness.
Then something appeared in the mirror. Something was behind her...
She turned quickly. She had never seen anything like it...a mass of luminous, yellow mist, swirling and pulsating, fully visible in spite of the almost complete lack of light. And it was moving toward her.
Fern tried to cry out, but fear had left her speechless. The strange mist surrounded her...blinded her...
...and suddenly vanished. Fern finally managed to scream. She screamed again.
She heard rapid footsteps from the room above. "Fern? Fern?" came Arthur's worried voice.
Fern's heart seemed to be hurling itself against her ribcage. She struggled to calm herself. "I'm...I'm all right," she stammered.
But somehow she felt that she wasn't all right. Something had changed...
(To be continued...)
"Not Grandma Tibble!" cried Francine.
"She wasn't that old!" exclaimed Alan.
"How did she die?" asked Sue Ellen.
"They think it was a heart attack," Mrs. Read answered.
Timmy put his hand over his chest. "She put her hand like this," he recounted, "and then she fell over."
"Then we raced each other to the phone to call 911," Tommy added. "I got there first."
Having said that, the boys began to cry bitterly. Fern sank to her knees and put her arms around them, whispering words of comfort.
"I never met Grandma Tibble," said Van. "Dallin says she's really nice, and she gives out milk and cookies."
"Chocolate chip peanut butter," Arthur chimed in. "The best in the world."
Mr. and Mrs. Read collapsed onto the couch, and D.W. climbed into her mother's lap. "What about Tommy and Timmy?" she asked in a worried tone.
"Yeah, what about them?" asked Francine as she stood up from her drum kit. "Where are their parents? Do they even have parents?"
"Their mother's probably having a good time traveling the world," Sue Ellen remarked.
Fern, still clutching the twins, narrowed her eyes and spoke indignantly. "She hasn't wasted all the money from her divorce yet. I bet she won't even come back for them."
"Don't talk like that in front of the boys," Mr. Read admonished her.
"She's so irresponsible!" Fern complained.
"That's enough," said Mr. Read sternly.
"The important thing," said Mrs. Read, "is that we find someone to take care of the boys until their mother, or some other relative, arrives. That may take a day or two."
Fern rose to her feet. "I'll do it, Mrs. Read," she offered.
"Yeah!" Tommy wiped his tears and grinned. "We want Fern to babysit us."
"She tells the scariest stories," said Timmy.
"You're braver than I am," said Arthur, pushing himself up from the piano bench.
Mr. Read slowly rose from the couch. "First of all, let's get some food in their stomachs. How long has it been since you boys ate?"
"Like that makes any difference," Francine butted in.
"I'm making a souffle," said Mr. Read, smiling.
"Oh, yeah! We like slouffe!" Timmy enthused. Mr. Read walked toward the kitchen, and the twins chased after him.
Mrs. Read, with D.W. still wiggling in her lap, gave Fern a tired but grateful look. "After we've had some dinner, then you can take the boys to their house, and tell them scary stories, or tie them up with duct tape, or whatever it is you do to keep them from getting in trouble. Just don't say bad things about their mother in front of them, okay?"
"Yes, Mrs. Read," said Fern meekly.
"And don't forget to call your parents and tell them where you are," Mrs. Read added.
"Can I go too, Mom?" asked Arthur. "I'll bet I can tell scarier stories than Fern."
"I don't know about that," said Francine. "I still remember Fern's story about the platinum dragon."
"Yeah, but you never heard my story about..." Arthur held up his arms menacingly. "...THE SWAMP THING!"
"All right, Arthur, you can go," said Mrs. Read. "But don't scare them too much. They've been through enough already."
----
"AAAARRGGHH!" Tommy and Timmy screamed in terror and wrapped their arms around each other.
"And then," recounted the wide-eyed Fern, "after the giant snake had swallowed the two scientists whole, they began to...digest!" She started to make sucking noises with her lips.
"Ewww!" The Tibble boys grimaced with disgust.
"Soon there was nothing left but their bones," Fern went on. "And the giant snake couldn't digest the bones, so it vomited them out! Bleeeaaagh! The end."
"That was...really...scary, Fern," said Tommy, whose knees were quivering.
"Tell another one," said Timmy, who was shaking from head to toe.
Fern sat down on the hardwood floor of the Tibble living room. As Arthur rose to his feet, he motioned toward the suit of medieval armor that stood next to the front door.
"I went to a museum once," he began, "and I saw a suit of armor just like that one. In fact, there were a whole bunch of them. They had swords, and maces, and axes..."
"Were they empty, like that one?" asked Timmy.
"No," Arthur replied. "I thought they were empty, up until I got locked in the museum overnight, and found out that...somebody was inside of them!"
As Arthur described his fictional museum adventure to the boys, Fern suddenly perked up her ears. "Quiet," she half-whispered. "Do you hear that?"
"This is my story, Fern," said Arthur.
"No, I hear something!" Fern's ears flopped about as she waved her head from side to side. "Someone's in the house besides us!"
Leaping to her feet, she hurried across the room to a mildewed wooden door that appeared to not have been opened for a long time. Pressing the side of her head against it, she listened carefully.
"That goes to the cellar," Timmy informed her. "Grandma doesn't let us go down there."
Pulling her head away from the door, Fern grasped the rusted brass handle with both hands. With some effort she succeeded in opening the old, creaking door wide enough to permit a child to pass.
"I, uh, don't think you should go in there," Arthur warned her.
"Stay here," Fern said to him. She then slipped through the doorway and disappeared into the blackness.
The first thing she noticed was a strong smell of mothballs. The corridor was almost completely dark, except for a few weak glimmers of outside light that crept through slits in the walls. Nervous but determined, she took a few steps forward...and her face made contact with a gigantic cobweb.
"Oh!" Sputtering, she frantically brushed the strands of spider silk from her face. She felt a sensation of something with many legs crawling along her upper lip and into her mouth. She spit several times, then swallowed. For all she knew, the creature had gone down her throat.
Undaunted, Fern raised her hands in front of her face and took several more hesitant steps forward. The floor underneath her feet gave way to what seemed to be a staircase. She carefully descended, and the wooden steps creaked loudly as if they would break under the pressure.
After walking down about twenty steps and pushing aside a comparable number of cobwebs, she rounded a corner and found herself in a large room with a low stone ceiling. She couldn't understand how any grownup, even a short one like Grandma Tibble, could maneuver in this place. In the dim light she saw elaborate spiderwebs adorning every wall. The room was filled with trunks and old furniture, much of which was in a state of decay as a result of the stagnant moisture covering the floor. Various small articles of clothing were lying and rotting where they had probably been dropped decades earlier.
"Is anybody here?" Fern called out. There was no answer, not even an echo. From the living room overhead, she could hear Arthur regaling the twins with his tale of mystery and horror.
She walked slowly toward the middle of the room, and was soon surrounded by old trunks, several of which were not fully closed and had fabric hanging out of them. Standing in front of her was an ancient dresser with a large, broken upright mirror attached to the top. She strained to see her reflection in the darkness.
Then something appeared in the mirror. Something was behind her...
She turned quickly. She had never seen anything like it...a mass of luminous, yellow mist, swirling and pulsating, fully visible in spite of the almost complete lack of light. And it was moving toward her.
Fern tried to cry out, but fear had left her speechless. The strange mist surrounded her...blinded her...
...and suddenly vanished. Fern finally managed to scream. She screamed again.
She heard rapid footsteps from the room above. "Fern? Fern?" came Arthur's worried voice.
Fern's heart seemed to be hurling itself against her ribcage. She struggled to calm herself. "I'm...I'm all right," she stammered.
But somehow she felt that she wasn't all right. Something had changed...
(To be continued...)
