House of a Thousand Screams Read Online Free PDF

protested. “They just came out!”
    My hand was still in the flour container.
    Then something grabbed it. Something in the flour itself!
    Something that held my wrist in a grip of iron!

8

    I screamed. I couldn’t help it—it just burst out of me.
    Frantic, I pulled against the thing in the canister. But it held on to my hand like a vise. Whatever it was, it had cold claws. I could feel them.
    My heart hammered in my chest. “Let me go!” I yelled.
    Every drawer in the kitchen flew open. Knives, forks, and spoons jangled out of their plastic holders. The mixing bowl flipped over and shattered on the floor.
    â€œFreddy! Help!” I called frantically.
    But my little brother had his own problems. He dodged a rain of flying plates. Then he slipped in a puddle of cherry pie filling and landed facedown in it.
    Whatever held me squeezed my wrist. Hard. I criedout in pain. Then I put everything I had into one big tug.
    The grip suddenly released. The canister leapt off the counter and banged into my forehead.
    â€œOw,” I groaned. I fell back in a thick cloud of flour. It covered me, clotting my mouth and nose.
    â€œLook out!” Freddy shouted from where he lay sprawled.
    I glanced up. The measuring cup floated in midair above me. As I stared at it, it tipped. Ice water poured out.
    â€œAaahh!” I yelled. Icy trickles ran over my face and into my ears. The water mixed with the flour and turned my hair into a sticky, doughy mess. As soon as it was empty, the measuring cup dropped to the floor. Its job was done.
    I clambered slowly to my feet. The kitchen was buried beneath a blanket of flour. It looked as if it had been bombed. Which was roughly how I felt.
    â€œFreddy?” I groaned, then coughed out a chunk of dough. I tried again. “Freddy? Are you all right?”
    His voice was so calm that I could tell he was really scared. “I’ve been better.”
    â€œOh, no!” a voice exclaimed behind me.
    I whirled to see Mom standing in the kitchen doorway. She held bags of groceries in both arms. Her mouth hung open in shock.
    There was no sound, no movement while she took itall in. The broken plates and bowls. The spilled silverware. The thick coat of flour everywhere.
    Slowly, Mom set the grocery bags down on the floor. At last she looked at me, and her face kind of twisted up.
    I tried to grin. My lips stuck together a little where the dough and water had made a paste.
    â€œWe—uh, we thought we’d bake you a pie,” was the best I could manage.
    â€œA pie,” Mom repeated.
    â€œCherry,” Freddy piped up from his place on the floor. He scraped some filling off the floor with his finger to show Mom.
    Mom stood there, dazed, for another moment. Then she took a deep breath. “Your father will be home this evening,” she said. “I’ll let him talk to you about this. Yes, that’s what I’ll do. Some other time, maybe, I’ll talk to you about it. In a month or so. When I’ve calmed down . . . ”
    Her words trailed off. She turned and sort of hobbled away.
    â€œWe’ll clean it up,” I yelled. But if Mom heard me, she gave no sign.
    Slowly, silently, we started putting things right. Only four dishes had broken, thank goodness. And the mixing bowl.
    The more I worked, the madder I got. What did the poltergeist have against us anyway? What had we ever done to it?
    â€œJill?” Freddy asked.
    â€œYeah?” I snapped.
    Freddy’s voice was small. “What do we do now?”
    â€œNow?” I began sweeping the flour into a pile. “Now we finish making the kitchen as good as new.”
    â€œI meant after that,” Freddy said.
    I knew what he meant. But part of me couldn’t believe what I was about to say. I took a deep breath. “All right. After that we find out where this poltergeist thing is hiding. Then we figure out a way to fix its little wagon.”
    â€œAre