Dan Poblocki - The Stone Child

“She’s way too mature for someone like you, dude.” It was Harris. “I’ve seen your pits in gym class. They’re totally bald.”

“So are yours,” said Eddie. He knew his face was bright red.

Smacking Eddie in the arm, Harris said, “You totally have a crush on her.”

“No, I don’t. I just…”

“She’s a real witch,” Harris whispered. “Be careful. She probably put a spell on you. You might fall in love with her and have little witch babies.” Then he started kissing his own hand in a really gross way. Eddie blushed, but Harris looked so ridiculous, he couldn’t stop himself from laughing.

Eventually, Harris stopped kissing himself and said, “Mrs. Dunkleman is such a dummy. She made me stay late because I said her skirt looked like a sheep.”

“Why’d you say that?”

“Because it did,” said Harris, heading toward the bike rack. “Come on, it gets dark early in Gatesweed at this time of year. Let’s go to my house. If we can’t crack the code today, then at least I’m totally going to kick your butt playing The Wraith Wars on my computer.”

Eddie took his finger from Whispers in the Gingerwich House and dog-eared the page where he’d stopped reading. The chapter title caught his eye. Chapter Eleven: “The Place Where Stories Are Told.” Why did that look so familiar?

When Eddie didn’t follow him, Harris called over his shoulder, “Oh, come on… don’t be a sore loser before we’ve even started playing the game!”

Eddie waved him quiet. He stared at the book. He didn’t want to lose his thought.

“What’s wrong?” said Harris.

Finally, Eddie blinked and looked at Harris again. “Have you heard this before?” he said, then read from the page, “‘The Place Where Stories Are Told.’”

Harris stood next to the bike rack. He squinted and looked confused. “Well… yeah. ‘The Place Where Stories Are Told’… It’s the phrase that’s carved into the stone near the roof of the library. In the middle of town.”

Eddie thought about his English class and how Maggie accused him of believing in monsters. So basically, you’re saying that monsters are real? she’d asked him. Slowly, he began to nod. “Are these words carved into the library because Nathaniel Olmstead wrote them? Or did Nathaniel Olmstead write them because he saw them carved into the stone?”

“I don’t know,” said Harris. “What do you mean?” He stood over his bike, undoing the chain lock, looking at Eddie as if he were nuts.

“I just have a hunch about something,” said Eddie. “My English class today has me thinking about these books again. The statue in the clearing, the symbol on the book, the lake in the woods, the dogs from the Haunted Nunnery… If they were real, if Nathaniel Olmstead had seen them with his own eyes, then maybe it stands to reason that other parts of his books are real. And not just the places that inspired him.”

“Are you saying…?” Harris started, then added, “What are you saying?”

“In order to solve The Enigmatic Manuscript‘s code language, we need the key. Right?” said Eddie, picking up his own bike lock and swirling the numbers on his combination pad. “The answer might be in Nathaniel’s stories.”

“You think there might be a clue about the code somewhere here in Gatesweed-a clue we might find in one of his books?” said Harris.

“Exactly.” Eddie yanked the chain away from his front tire. It clattered against the steel rack with a loud clang before he shoved it into his book bag. “How about we forget the video games tonight?” he said, swinging his leg over his bike and hopping onto the seat. “Let’s read a book instead?”

Kate was in the kitchen trying to plant the Gremlin’s Tongue flower when she heard the baby start crying again. Rolling her eyes, she whispered to the bright purple plant, “I’m sorry, but you’re going to have to wait. Someone else wants to be more important than you right now.” She went into the hallway and called up the stairs, “Caroline… please! The sooner you take your nap, the sooner my headache goes away.”

The child’s screams echoed down the stairwell, and Kate looked at her watch. Thank goodness-only a half hour until Mrs. James was due back from her meeting. If the baby was sick, Mrs. James would know what to do, and Kate could simply go home. Still, half an hour is a long time to listen to such screaming, she thought as she made her way back up the stairs. Caroline was probably just hungry.

The wet wind slapped leaves against the window at the top of the stairs.

Kate could hear Caroline screaming from behind the closed door. “I’m coming. I’m coming,” said Kate. She swung the door open, and immediately the crying stopped. “What’s wrong, sweetie?” But the only answer was the storm outside. Kate approached the crib. The blankets were wrapped up in a tangled mess.

Oh no, she’s strangled herself, Kate worried as she rushed to the bed and struggled to untie the blankets. When she pulled the sheets away from the mattress, she gasped. The baby was gone.

“ You were just crying,” she said, looking around the bedroom. “Where did you crawl to?” When she didn’t see Caroline anywhere, Kate leaned against the railing, hanging her head in frustration.

Something brushed her legs. Startled, Kate leapt away from the crib. “Caroline!” she said, quickly crouching so she could peer underneath the spindly metal frame. “How did you get under there?” But when she looked, there was nothing under the bed except for a few dust bunnies.

Before she could turn around, the bedroom door slammed shut. The sound of footsteps echoed down the corridor toward the stairs.

“ That child!” Kate whispered to herself, running toward the door and yanking it open. “Caroline, you are gonna be in so much-” Kate’s voice died in her throat.

Down the hall at the top of the stairs a small figure stood, but it was not Caroline. It was about a foot tall and looked human, but its expression was purely animal. The creature was scrawny, naked, and covered in greasy green hair. Its catlike yellow eyes stared at her, and as Kate stared back, it began to emit a quiet growling sound.

When Kate screamed, it raised its claws at her and opened its mouth, revealing pointy brown canine teeth. Then it came at her. Kate didn’t even have a chance to close the bedroom door before it-

“You’ve got to eat something, Eddie,” said Dad, from across the kitchen table. “We Fennicks men have a tendency to stay skinny.”

Eddie was jerked out of the fifth chapter of The Curse of the Gremlin’s Tongue-one of his favorites.

“Sorry,” said Eddie, looking up. “What?”

“You haven’t touched your macaroni,” said Mom. “I spent a good two minutes heating it up in the microwave. The least you could do is pretend to like it.” She laughed heartily at herself, then blew her nose into her napkin. “Seriously, Edgar, put that book down until after dinner.”

Eddie reluctantly closed the book and slid it away from his plate. He pushed his chair against the wall near the refrigerator. A stained-glass lamp hung over the table and cast colorful shadows across the floor.

“Haven’t you read it already?” asked Dad.

“Four times,” said Eddie.

“Can I borrow it when you’re done?” said Mom, getting up and rinsing her dish in the sink. “I really enjoyed the first one you lent me. In fact, I started writing a spooky story-the one I was thinking about at the beginning of the month.”

“That’s great,” said Eddie. “I can’t wait to read it.”

“Speaking of spooky stories, did you ever figure out that weird book we found at the Black Hood Antiques Fair?” said Dad.