Dan Poblocki - The Stone Child

“Not yet. But I have a feeling I’m getting closer to an answer.” Eddie cleared his throat. He didn’t want to tell them everything he had learned about Nathaniel Olmstead, especially since he and Harris had trespassed onto his estate. If they knew how much trouble Eddie had almost gotten himself into at the Nameless Lake, his parents might have asked for the book back. “Me and my friend Harris are working on it together.”

Mom closed the dishwasher door and leaned against it so it clicked shut. “That’s so nice. Harris seems like a smart boy, doesn’t he, honey?” she said, glancing at her husband across the table. Dad smiled and nodded. Before she sat down again, Mom threw her hands into the air. “Darn it! I forgot to serve the spinach!”

Eddie grabbed his plate and his book. Standing up, he quickly said, “I’ll eat this in my room, okay?” Eddie hated spinach.

Mom looked like she was going to say no, until Dad grabbed his plate and stood up too. “And I’ll finish this in the den.” He didn’t like spinach either.

Later that night, a dream brought Eddie back to the edge of the clearing in the Nameless Woods. The statue of the girl was staring at him from across the circle. He could almost hear a voice calling to him, but he couldn’t make out whose voice it was or what she was saying. In the forest behind him, moonlight broke through the trees, sprinkling the small creeping plants with glints of silver, but in the clearing, it shone brilliantly, lighting the statue like a fluorescent bulb. She held out her book, as if she wanted to share it with him. As he stared at her, she glowed even brighter. Her white stone became translucent, and from deep inside the stone, a brilliant blue fire began to flicker. Her eyes darkened. Something moved among the trees directly behind her, and Eddie took a step backward. A horrible stench filled his nose and made him dizzy. He turned to run, but something leapt up from the ground and tripped him. Rolling through the brush to get out of its way, Eddie came face to face with a mouthful of sharp canine teeth.

Screaming, Eddie jolted himself awake. He lay in bed for several seconds, then checked himself to make sure he was not still dreaming. His forehead was clammy, and he felt sick. Moments later, his father peeked his head through the door.

“Nightmare?” he asked.

Eddie tried to swallow, but his mouth was dry. “Uh-huh. Sorry. Did I wake you up?”

“Nah,” said Dad. “I was reading. Mom is up late too, scribbling away into her notebook. She’s been doing that lots lately.”

His father went to the bathroom to get Eddie a glass of water. When he came back, he noticed the book sitting on Eddie’s bedside table. On the cover of The Curse of the Gremlin’s Tongue, a bright purple flower glowed poisonously. Dad flipped the book facedown and turned off the light. “All those scary stories you two have been reading probably don’t help.”

Eddie knew his father was wrong; the scary stories were the one thing that would help.

Early the next morning, a northern wind chilled Gatesweed. The previous night’s scary dream clung to Eddie’s skin, sending him into fits of shivers over breakfast. Outside, the sky was gray and solemn, so Eddie put on his puffy olive coat with the furry hood and set off on his bike.

He found Harris waiting for him, as usual, on the corner of School and Market. Harris was wide-eyed and looked ready to burst with excitement. “I made some progress last night,” he said mysteriously.

“What kind of progress?”

“Well, I sort of think you should read it for yourself. The Witch’s Doom.”

“What about it?” said Eddie, glancing down the street, where the school waited for them patiently.

“There’s some stuff in there I think might point us in the right direction.”

“Which direction would that be?”

Harris smiled and said, “Nathaniel Olmstead’s house.” He slung his book bag off his back and opened it. He pulled out The Witch’s Doom and handed it to Eddie. “Pay attention to the chapter in the basement. You’ll see what I’m talking about. If you get a chance to read it during class, maybe we can head up there after school and do some exploring.” He pushed away from the curb and swung his bike around into the street. “Come on,” he said, calling over his shoulder, “race you!”

Gertie blindly swung her arms around in the pitch-dark basement. Her fist made contact with something hard, and she screamed. But then she heard a smash and a crash and realized she’d only toppled another small pile of dusty junk. Maybe she’d broken the antique clock radio she’d noticed earlier, or possibly it had been the framed photograph of Sojourner Truth. At this point, she didn’t really care. Smash everything to pieces, she thought, just let me out of here!

When the echoes stopped ringing against the walls of the cramped stone room, she shouted, “I know you’re there!” She was not, in fact, sure that the Watcher had followed her from the woods into the farmhouse, but she figured that if he had, she needed to sound tough, especially now that she couldn’t see. She shuffled forward a few inches. It was impossible to tell where she was. If only she hadn’t dropped her flashlight into the hole under the stone in the floor!

“ I know you can’t move if I’m looking at you, so don’t even try!” she cried. She couldn’t see a thing, but the Watcher didn’t know that. Finally, her fingers made contact with cold, wet rock. Following the slab to the right, she was able to locate the ladder, which ran up the wall of the dank basement. She clutched the bottom rung with her fingers. Keeping her eyes forward, she held on to one bar with her hands and put her left foot on the bottom rung. Slowly, steadily, she made her way up. The stone walls dripped with black moisture, and she tried desperately not to slip.

She couldn’t believe it had come to this. The only comfort she had was the key she’d taken from the secret compartment in the floor in the center of the room. She hoped that if the monster was indeed down here with her, he hadn’t seen her tuck the key in her pocket.

It took all her strength to keep moving up the ladder. Finally, she made it to the top. Reaching up blindly, Gertie could feel the rust-covered door. She pushed at it, but it wouldn’t move.

“ Fudge!” Gertie whispered to herself. “What do I do now? ”

She thought she could hear breathing below her, and when she looked down again, the shadows seemed to move. Gertie screamed. Her voice echoed around the chamber, as she turned and scratched at the rusting metal door above her. Finally, the scream was answered by the turn of the latch and the squeak of the hinges. A sliver of faint light appeared, then the door swung up and out. A face peered at her through the opening.

“ Mrs. Thompson!” Gertie said, shocked. “What are you doing up there? ”

Gertie’s teacher smiled. It was not pleasant. Gertie had never seen Mrs. Thompson look like this before. “Oh, Gertrude. I knew when you found out, you’d act like a nincompoop. You were never very good at tests.” Gertie’s grip loosened. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing. It had been her teacher, all along. The notes. The voices. The nightmares. Mrs. Thompson was the witch. “But this is what was meant to be,” Mrs. Thompson continued. “This has always been your destiny, my dear one. Now why don’t you climb up here.” The witch’s eyes darkened. “So you can give me what you have in your pocket.”

Something grabbed at Gertie’s sneaker, and she screamed louder than before. She swung her foot away from the ladder, but before she could scramble away, the thing’s claws tightened around her ankle. Looking down, Gertie could see the terrible face of the Watcher rising toward her from the darkness below.