House of a Thousand Screams by R.L. Stine Read Free Book Online

her heart if something happened to us. And something almost happened just now. Up in the attic.”
    His words hit me hard. He was right. Maybe I should face facts. This thing was too powerful for me and Freddy to fight. We’d only lose.
    I heard the front door open. Dad’s cheery voice boomed through the house.
    â€œHi, all. The man is home!”
    â€œYou win,” I said. “We’ll tell them.”
    But could we make them believe us?
    Or would they ground us for the next ten years?

11

    â€œP oltergeists, huh? Sounds to me like somebody’s got a case of Fear Street fever,” Dad told us, grinning.
    Freddy and I exchanged glances. Not a good start.
    We were all gathered in the den. It was about nine-thirty that night. Freddy and I had decided to wait until after dinner to talk to Mom and Dad.
    Dad started hunting around the couch. “Where’s that remote control?” he asked. “I keep telling you kids to leave it on the coffee table.”
    â€œDad,” I pleaded. “Won’t you listen?”
    He raised his eyebrows. “Well, sure, pumpkin, I’ll listen. Just as long as I don’t have to believe.” Even though Dad was born in Shadyside, his years in Texas left him with a drawl. He likes to pour it on even thicker than usual when he’s joking with us.
    He went back to hunting for the remote. “Ah, here it is, under the cushion. Of course, I know you kids didn’t put it there. Probably that rascal poltergeist.”
    Mom sat in the chair next to the couch, looking annoyed. Neither of them believed a word we’d said.
    â€œWhy won’t you believe us?” Freddy asked.
    â€œFreddy, you forget, I was there.” Mom leaned forward, her eyes filled with concern. “I heard you wrestling before you broke the lamp. I saw the video of your uncle juggling those books, just the way you two did. And when I walked into that mess in the kitchen, all I saw were two kids whose horseplay had gotten out of hand.”
    â€œBut the glasses—” I began.
    â€œAh, yes, the glasses,” Dad said. “Let me see them.”
    I passed him the magic glasses. He slipped them on and peered around the room, searching. Suddenly his eyes widened. He gasped.
    â€œDo you see it?” Freddy demanded.
    â€œI do, I do,” Dad cried. “By the fireplace. By golly, it’s a snark! Right next to the frumious bander-snatch!”
    â€œDad!” I protested. He was treating the whole thing as a joke!
    â€œAnd there’s a rattlesnake, and the Cisco Kid,” Dad went on. “And—why, I do believe that’s a goblin! Eating a burrito.”
    Mom frowned. “There’s no point in teasing them, John,” she scolded.
    â€œThere’s no point in them getting wrapped up in wild tales either,” Dad replied. He slipped off the magic glasses and set them on the table.
    â€œLook, kids,” he went on in a more serious voice. “I remember what it was like when I was growing up in Shadyside. Kids at school told all kinds of stories about Fear Street. But in all my years here, I never met anyone this spooky stuff ever happened to firsthand. It was always ‘a friend of a friend.’ Which is usually a sure sign that a story isn’t true.”
    â€œI can understand Freddy letting his imagination run away with him,” Mom put in. “But you, Jill, are certainly old enough to know better.”
    I glanced over at Freddy. What were we going to do?
    It wasn’t fair. Parents never believe the really big stuff that happens to you. They always think you’re exaggerating.
    Oh, well. Maybe tomorrow we’d be able to think up a new plan. I sighed and got up to leave.
    â€œDon’t forget your glasses, Jill,” Dad called after me. “What if you have a visitor?”
    Silently, I walked back and picked up the specs. Freddy and I climbed the stairs as if we were marching to the