Horror at the Haunted House Read Online Free PDF

she didn’t look at them long, either. She focused her attention on the Fairylustre. She was drawn to it, feeling connected on a deep level, as if she herself had painted the small green fairies and embellished their long, sweeping wings with gold.
    She stood warily for a moment, wondering if the chill breeze would appear. It did not. Ellen relaxed and began to admire the fairies.
    The Wedgwood was carefully arranged by date, with a small brass plaque identifying each piece. The earliest was a large black urn. The plaque said it was made in 1768. Next was a set of cream-colored dishes with a rose and green design on the border. The Fairylustre was much newer. Ellen wasn’t interested in any of the other patterns or types of Wedgwood, only the Fairylustre. Of course, the dim lighting, which had been designed for formal candlelight dinners in the old dining room, did not show the pieces to the best advantage. It was easy to see why Mrs. Whittacker planned to use some of the haunted house profits to install spotlights.
    Ellen’s favorite piece, the small octagonal bowl, was tipped slightly, so that viewers could see the inside as well as the outside. Ellen longed to hold it again but she didn’t dare pick it up without permission.
    For the first time, she realized why people have collections. She began to understand why someone would care so much about an old bowl that they would pay thousands of dollars for it. If I were rich, she thought, I would buy a piece of Fairylustre with fairies on it. She liked the vase where a spider web was made entirely of tiny gold dots, too, but the pieces that showed the fairies were the ones she liked most.
    The purple, green, and gold colors of the fairyland scene on the octagonal bowl were truly lustrous. Even in the dim light, they shimmered and Ellen thought she had never seen anything so beautiful. She wished she could meet the artist; clearly it was someone who loved fairies as much as Ellen did.
    The voice of Agnes Munset came over the loudspeaker. “Ten minutes until we open. All actors please take your places. Ten minutes until we open.”
    Ellen took one last look at the octagonal Fairylustre bowl, trying to imprint every detail on her memory so that she could think about it later.
    Then she turned and hurried toward the door. As she did, she caught a glimpse of movement in the mirror. When she looked, two faces gazed back at her from the mirror, her own and another.
    Ellen glanced back over her shoulder, wondering who was behind her. The room was empty.
    With her heart racing, she looked at the mirror again. The other face was still there. It was a young woman with light brown curls, wearing a long-sleeved, white nightgown with lace at the throat. She might have been pretty except for the expression on her face. Ellen had never seen anyone look so sad.
    Her unhappy eyes stared straight at Ellen and her mouth slowly opened, as if she wanted to cry out for help but could not speak. Her arms lifted and her hands stretched toward Ellen, beseeching her to—to what? To help her? How?
    Ellen stood still, unable to move or speak. The back of her neck prickled as she stared at the face in the mirror.
    Agnes’s voice came again. “All actors should now be in their places.”
    Ellen glanced quickly around the room again. She was still alone. When she looked back at the mirror, she saw only her own reflection. The sad woman had disappeared.
    Ellen hurried across the hall. As she took her place on the platform in the Joan of Arc scene, her breath came fast, as if she’d been riding her bike uphill. The face in the mirror had to be one of the special effect tricks that had been set up throughout the haunted house. Still, it had startled her so much that her heartwas still pounding. She wondered how they could make the face so realistic. For a moment, Ellen had been convinced that the woman was standing directly behind her.
    Before they left for home that night, Ellen took Corey into the