Always October Read Online Free PDF

meeting about two hours later. When she was gone, I went to my room and took out one of my grandfather’s books. Considering how scary his stories could be, this wasn’t really wise—especially given the fact that I was pretty much alone in a house that would make a good set for a horror movie. But I couldn’t resist.
    One of the things I like about the Always October stories is that despite the fact of them being so weird and scary, somehow my grandfather always managed to weave in an idea called “tikkun olam.” Mom told me it’s a Hebrew phrase about “repairing the world.” She likes the idea and tries to live by it (even though we’re Methodist, not Jewish). I think it’s one of the reasons she felt so strongly about taking in Little Dumpling.
    Arthur also believed it was important to act on this idea … which is kind of odd considering the way he broke his own family.
    Anyway, when I finished the first story, which involved strange creatures from another dimension kidnapping orphaned children, I shuddered and put the book away. The story had made me uneasy enough that I decided I should check on Little Dumpling.
    The baby was sound asleep, his pudgy fingers curled around his green plastic rattle. Looking at him, I almost thought the teasing I got from those kids who saw me buy the thing had been worth it.
    â€œG’night, LD,” I whispered.
    After returning to my own room, I took out some paper and began trying to draw Syreena, the tall, bat-winged woman in my grandfather’s story. Outside, a soft rain pattered against my window while the April wind rustled through the new leaves on the oaks that surround the house. Eventually the rain stopped. The clouds shifted and the light of the full moon came streaming through my window.
    I lost track of how long I had been drawing, so I wasn’t sure how much time had passed when I was pulled back to the real world by a thump from LD’s room.
    Putting down my pencil, I went to check on the baby.
    I opened the door, then stopped in my tracks.
    In the crib where LD should have been, wearing the same yellow duckie pajamas he had gone to sleep in, lay a creature with bright green fur, the beginnings of a snout, and enormous pointed ears that curled over his head.
    Had the baby turned into a monster? Or was this some horrible substitution?
    Torn between fascination and terror, I moved toward the crib.
    The furry baby opened its eyes and smiled at me, displaying a huge mouth full of glistening fangs.
    I reversed course and backed toward the door. “Mom?” I called. At least, I tried to call her. My voice didn’t seem to be working. I tried again. This time my voice worked better than I expected. “Mom! You’d better get in here!”
    Then I remembered: she wasn’t there.
    What was I supposed to do if there was an emergency? Oh, right—call Mrs. McSweeney! And what was I going to say? “The baby just got all furry and grew fangs. I’m not sure what to do about it. Can you come over?”
    She would think I had lost my mind.
    I looked back at the creature in the crib. Still clutching its rattle, it held out its arms in the classic “pick me up” gesture that Little Dumpling always used. But where LD had tiny, clear fingernails, this thing had sharp black claws.
    I had no ritual for dealing with a situation like this.
    When I didn’t move, the baby beast started to cry. Not a tantrum; just a small, sad whimper. The tears rolling out of its big eyes disappeared into its green fur.
    I hardened myself against the sight. Who knew what the little monster might do if I picked it up? Part of me felt I should just turn and run. But the wretched thing continued to stare at me with those big, pleading eyes. It reached for me again.
    I shook my head.
    It flung itself to the mattress and wailed as if I had broken its heart. “Jay-Jay,” it sobbed. “Jay-Jay!”
    My eyes