The Most Frightening Story Ever Told Read Online Free PDF Page A

undernourished, shadows under your eyes. Being in here all day can’t be good for you. Frankly, you look like crap. You could use a little sun, kid.”
    “I’m afraid there’s no money to spare in our home for things like summer camp,” admitted Billy. He’d decided to ignore the remark about stealing things. Billy had never stolen anything in his life. “I have to make the best of things. Besides, I’m still recovering from a car accident.”
    “Is that a fact?”
    “Yes it is.” And Billy told Mr. Rapscallion all about his car accident. “Now I know what it feels like to be a thin layer of strawberry jam between two thick slices of bread,” he joked.
    “I’m sorry to hear that,” said Mr. Rapscallion.
    “Forget about it. I’m almost over it. Honest. And your shop has really cheered me up.”
    “That’s good,” said Mr. Rapscallion. “Nice to know that there’s at least one kid who likes books in this miserable town.”
    At that very moment, the grandfather clock in the entrance hall began to strike the hour and, from somewhere else in the house, the sound of a church organ was heard. It was a stirring sound but it was also a creepy one. “What’s that?”
    “Sounds to me like Bach’s Toccata and Fugue in D Minor,” said Mr. Rapscallion.
    “But where’s it coming from?”
    “The organ music? Where else but the basement, of course.”
    “I didn’t know there was one,” admitted Billy. “A basement.”
    “The arrogance of it,” said Mr. Rapscallion. “To think that you could know all the secrets of the Haunted House of Books in just the few days you’ve been coming here.”
    Fortunately, he was smiling as he said this and so Billy didn’t think he was actually offended.
    “And by the way,” he said. “Try not to use too many numbers when you’re talking to me. I have a thing about numbers. I mean, take my word for it. You wouldn’t like to see me start counting.”
    Billy nodded. “Could we go and see?” he asked. “The organ.”
    “Why certainly,” said Mr. Rapscallion, and led the way.
    In the entrance hall, from behind the front sales desk, Mr. Rapscallion collected an enormous candelabra and lit the candles.
    “Are those candles that blow out?” asked Billy.
    “All candles blow out,” said Mr. Rapscallion. “It’s only scary when they keep on blowing out for no good reason and you end up thinking that someone or something is doing it deliberately. Right?”
    “True enough,” said Billy.
    Mr. Rapscallion opened an ordinary door that looked like a broom closet to reveal a set of descending stone steps. Their footsteps echoed as they went down into the basement. As well as the organ music, Billy could hear the sound of water.
    “I keep all the antiquarian books down here,” said Mr. Rapscallion. “A little bit of damp helps the books to look properly old. We’ve got books and old manuscripts in our basement that no one has ever read.”
    “Like what?”
    “I dunno. I never read them. Some of the books contain things a lot of people shouldn’t be allowed to know about, so I try to make it as difficult as I can for them down here. That way I can be sure that the customers who get as far as the books are really serious about the subject, you know?” He grinned. “I lay on a few extra surprises for them.”
    “Such as?” asked Billy.
    “Now that would be telling, wouldn’t it?”
    At the bottom of the stairs they appeared to be in an old and forgotten windowless chamber, and in the farthest wall was a heavy wooden door. Still holding the candelabra aloft, Mr. Rapscallion turned a key in the lock and pulled open the creaking door.
    Immediately a horrible smell filled the air.
    “Ugh,” said Billy, holding his nose. “What’s that stink?”
    “This is the oldest part of the house,” explained Mr. Rapscallion. “Down here dates back to eighteen hundred. The town sewers run straight through the building’s foundations.”
    He pointed at what looked like a