This Appearing House by Ally Malinenko EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Author: Ally Malinenko
- Language: English
- Genre: Children’s Scary Stories
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
FOR AS LONG AS ANYONE COULD REMEMBER, THERE WASN’T A HOUSE at the
dead end of Juniper Drive—until one day there was.
It wasn’t built over time. There were no construction workers, no loud
hammering that woke you up in the morning. There was just a cul-de-sac
with an empty lot of overgrown grass that edged up against where the
woods began. Except now there was a house. It was a wide, windowed
structure, larger than the other houses on the street, with steep gables,
turrets, and round stained-glass windows in the upper floors. It had all the
usual trappings of a house: doors that shut, bricks that knitted together,
floors that held you upright, and stairs that guided you from level to level—
but it had something more. Something you could only feel.
It had a way of watching you.
It was as if the moment you saw the house, sitting firmly and suddenly
there, that the house in turn saw you. It watched you through its window
eyes, its door like a mouth beckoning you in. Come a little bit closer, it
said. Just one step closer.
And it was in this way that Jac, her bike still braced beneath her, came
to see the house for the first time that mid-October day. It was just starting
to turn to evening, the sun painting the sky all yellow and pink, a breeze
lifting leaves from trees, showing their pale green underbellies. Just another
day in suburban New Jersey.
It hadn’t been that long since she’d come down to her thinking spot at
the end of Juniper Drive: the round, smooth curve of the dead end where
she would trace her bike in lazy circles, trying to clear her head. She
couldn’t clear her head if she was sitting still. The thoughts just buzzed
there like angry bees until they threatened to block out everything else.
Movement was paramount. It was only on her bike, the sound of the tires
zipping along the blacktop, her motions mimicking the circles that birds
made in the same pattern above her, that she could finally sort out her
thoughts.
She could lay them in clean lines.
Seventh grade and homework and tests and getting through lunch as the
new kid.
Also doctors and needles and pills and the knocking that never stopped.
Her mother, worrying and hovering and worrying some more.
Feeling like a freak.
There wasn’t much else to say. Five years of pills. Sometimes she
imagined all of them—each one she swallowed, that dissolved inside her,
flooding her blood system—lined up side by side. Sometimes she glanced
up at the sky and thought that line of pills could possibly reach the moon.
But that was fantasy and Jac knew it. She was good at math. Three hundred
sixty-five days a year times five years is only 1,825 pills. Laid side by side,
they wouldn’t even stretch across the dead end where she now rode. What
felt huge to her was, according to the facts, very little. Sometimes she
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