House of a Thousand Screams (10 page)

My gaze fell on the flour canister. A picture flashed through my mind. Tiny tracks in the powder on my dresser.

I had an idea.

It could work only if Mom had refilled the flour canister since the pie-making disaster. Please, please, I begged silently. I grabbed the canister and ripped the lid off.

I practically sobbed with relief when I saw the fluffy white powder inside.

Then I dumped the whole canister right on the monster as it squeezed my knees.

Direct hit! Flour burst around the thing. I could see it again! The flour clung to its greasy fur. It looked like a deranged pom-pom. With fangs. And claws.

The monster coughed and wiped at its eyes. I grabbed Mom's marble rolling pin from the counter. With all my strength I whacked the monster.

I was so frantic that my aim wasn't perfect. The blow landed on the thing's shoulder instead of its head. But it let go of my legs with a howl.

I kicked it away from me. Ow! I'd used my bad leg by accident. Pain seared through my knee.

The creature lay in the middle of the floor, stunned.
I limped forward to finish it off. I raised the roller high.

But I didn't have the strength to hit the monster again. My muscles gave way. I dropped the rolling pin and crumpled to the floor.

The monster groaned. Stirred.

I stared at it. Helpless. I couldn't get away. I couldn't move. My strength was gone.

Pinpricks of red light shone through the matted fur of the monster's face. Eyes. They glinted evilly at me.

The monster was waking up!

T
he monster climbed to its feet and shook itself. Clouds of flour burst from it. But I could still see it just fine.

It wasn't a pretty sight.

The monster quivered with rage.

And then it started to change!

Its face grew leaner and sharper. Its eyes bulged. Sharp thorns burst from its hairy arms. It made a fist. When it opened its hand again, the claws were longer, sharper than before.

“Oh, no,” I whispered. It was really over now. I was a goner for sure.

I closed my eyes, waiting for the end.

Then I heard a burst of noise.
“Peeps! Peeps! PEEEEPS!”

The little people! The monster hadn't scarfed them all down. And they were back!

I opened my eyes again. Something was hovering in the air near my head. A wooden box.

The puppet box! The little people must have brought it from the attic!

The monster spotted the box too. The sight seemed to put it in an even worse mood than before. It roared and bounded toward me.

Then a voice from the kitchen doorway made it stop in mid-bound.

“Hey, monster!”

Freddy! I couldn't believe it. My little brother stood in the doorway. He was wearing his Dallas Cowboys football helmet and pads. He held his baseball bat ready to swing.

He looked completely ridiculous. And I was never so glad to see him in my life!

The monster screeched with rage and leapt at Freddy.

“Batter up!” Freddy yelled. He swung the wooden bat.

Crrrrrrck!
The bat whacked the monster square in the chest.

Wood splintered. And the bat snapped in half!

Oh, no!

The monster tumbled backward, end over end. Toward me.

I snatched up the marble rolling pin from the floor. This time I didn't plan to miss.

Wham!
I brought the rolling pin down on the thing's head with everything I had.

The monster grunted and fell. Out cold.

“Peeps!”
the little people sang. The puppet box fell to the floor beside me.

I scooped up the greasy, stinking, floury monster, shoved it inside, and slammed the lid.

Then I collapsed on the floor.

Freddy rushed over to me. “Are you all right?” he cried. “I thought that thing was going to kill you!”

“I'm fine,” I wheezed. “Thanks to the little people—and you!” Then I frowned. “Hey, I thought I told you to run.”

He grinned. He looked goofy with the helmet on. “Would the Dallas Cowboys run?”

I laughed. My Brainiac brother. He was all right!

A tinkling sound filled the air. Freddy and I turned.

Thousands of tiny bits from the broken glasses rose into the air. The wire frames floated beside them. Then, in a flash of light, the pieces all fused together.

The glasses were whole again.

They floated across the room to me. I put them on.

The little people were grouped around us, beaming. I waggled my fingers at them. “Hi, guys. And thanks a million!”

The striped one jumped into my lap.
“Peeps!”
he trilled.

“Well, I guess that's—” I started to say.

A noise from the box interrupted me.

The monster was beating against the lid!

The box banged and jumped on the floor. The broken clasp shook. Wiggled.

The monster was trying to break out!

“O
h, no, you don't!” I yelled.

I scrambled up and threw myself on the box. I could feel the monster pounding against the lid.
Whack! Whack!

“Quick!” I told Freddy. “Find some wire or something to hold the latch closed.”

“Right!” Freddy said. “Just don't let it out.”

“Well, duh!” I snapped. “Will you please hurry?”

Freddy ran out. I clutched the box grimly.

Whack! Whack! Whack!
Each time the monster hit the lid, the whole box jumped off the floor. But I was ready for it. I sat on that box and rode it like a rodeo queen. No way was that furry freak going to get past
me.
I wasn't about to go through that nightmare again!

At last Freddy ran back in. He waved a padlock at me. “I got it out of Dad's tool kit,” he panted.

He slipped the lock through the latch and clicked it shut.

Silence. Immediately the monster stopped struggling.

Together we sat on the floor, our backs to the cabinets. We were totally beat.

“We did it, Jill!” Freddy crowed.

I glanced at my little brother. His eyes shone with excitement. I was happy too. But mostly I was exhausted.

And there was one more thing I needed to do.

I pointed at the padlocked box. “Do you feel comfortable with that?” I asked Freddy.

He made a face. “Not really.”

I got to my feet and limped into the garage. I fetched the hammer and some finishing nails from Dad's tool kit. Then I nailed the box lid shut. Just in case.

We carried the box back up to the attic and shoved it behind the biggest pile of trunks. We didn't want Mom or Dad finding it and opening it!

“That should do it,” I said.

“Maybe so. But if we spot any new buildings going up around here, let's dump the box into the wet concrete,” Freddy answered. He wasn't smiling.

We went back downstairs. Dozens of little people
flitted after us,
peepsing
like crazy. Apparently they approved of us.

I thought of something. “Maybe that's how Uncle Solly made friends with them in the first place,” I suggested. “Maybe this monster is their enemy. But he captured it. Just like we did.”

In the kitchen I gazed at the mess on the floor. Flour lay everywhere. The shish-kebab skewer had left a hole in the wall. Chairs were knocked over.

And the den! What kind of mess would we find in there? I thought of the pool of monster puke. Oh, gross! I was going to have to clean
that
up?

Little people
peepsed
away on the kitchen table. I frowned thoughtfully, then held out my hand. A creature stepped onto my palm—the brown one we saw in the attic. I put him on my shoulder.

“What do you say, little guy?” I asked him. “Can you help us with this mess?”

“Peeps!”

I pointed to the flour, then to the canister.

“Peeps! Peeps!”

The little man waved his hands. Flour rose in a white tornado. Flecks of dust and dirt and monster filth spun away and formed a second, dirty twister.

The flour spun itself back into the canister. The filth spun straight into the garbage.

I picked up the canister and sniffed the flour. Fresh and perfect!

“Excellent!” I exclaimed.

After that the other little people got into the act. The knife returned to its drawer. So did the skewer. The skillet sailed back into the cabinet. And the holes in the wall filled themselves in before our eyes! Grains of plaster dust leapt up from the floor and into the dents. It was like watching a videotape on rewind.

We wandered through the house. Everywhere we passed, the little people did their thing. And everything they touched was left cleaner and brighter than before.

In no time the whole house was spotless. Freddy and I stood in the den. We stared at each other in delight.

“You guys are the greatest,” I told the creatures. “You know, you could make a lot of money as a cleaning service!”

Just then the front door opened. Mom and Dad walked in.

“I hope they haven't been up to any more roughhousing,” Mom was saying. “And all that nonsense about poltergeists! I'm a little worried about them, frankly.”

“I don't think it's that serious,” Dad replied.

We met them at the door to the den. Mom gazed around in wonder.

“Well, I'll be. You cleaned up.” She ran her finger across some shelves. “Boy, did you clean up! This is more like it.” Then she narrowed her eyes at us. “Did Dad put you up to this?”

I laughed. “No! We just thought—you know. Special day and all.”

Mom still looked suspicious. “Well, I hope you at least had a little fun. What else did you do?”

“Watched a video,” I told her.

She sighed. “TV. I wish you kids would find something active to do. What about school sports? Otherwise you're going to be a couple of couch potatoes.”

That was too much for Freddy.
“Active?”
he sputtered. “You want to hear about active?”

I kicked the back of his leg. He stopped.

“We'll try,” I said to Mom.

Her face broke into a smile. She pulled Freddy and me to her and hugged us. “I know you will. And I know we're all going to be very happy,” she said. “Don't you just love this house?”

Freddy and I exchanged glances.

“Yeah,” I said. “I think we do.”

Freddy and I said our good nights and headed up to bed. As soon as we were out of the room, I slipped the magic glasses on. A tiny hairy man bowed politely to us from the banister.

“One good thing about this house,” I said. “From now on, chores are going to be a snap!”

T
he next morning I waved to Freddy as he walked off to his own school. Two little people sat happily on his shoulders. The kids in his class were going to get a pretty special magic show, I guessed. Bullies might get a surprise as well.

I had just met up with Breanna outside the middle school when someone tapped my shoulder. I turned. Breanna's brother, Bobby, stood behind me.