Any Which Wall Read Online Free
Author: Laurel Snyder
shook his head. “I don’t think so. Whatever the wall used to be, even if it
was
a castle, it hasn’t been in a long time. Any key to something so old would be long gone or buried deep underground by now.” He handed the key back to Henry, who put it in his pocket.
“C’mon, guys,” said Susan, bored with the key. “I’m thirsty. Let’s think about heading back.”
“But I want to finish the sacrifice,” said Henry. He began to chant again and jump around.
“Fine.” Susan relented. “But make it quick.”
Henry jumped faster. He broke off a slender cornstalk and waved it above his head, chanting even louder. Then he stopped for a second to ask, “Hey, who wants to say the great appreciation prayer while I do my native corn dance of thanks?”
“I will!” piped up Emma, who began to pray loudly and with great feeling.
“Dear Wall, we think you are a very nice wall and we would like you to be our wall from now on. We hope two dollars and some cents is enough because the rest really belongs to Mrs. Levy and it’s all we have. Thank you very much and we’ll come see you again soon and maybe we’ll bring you another present someday. Something better than a dead mouse. Okay? The End. AMEN!” She shouted this last word at the top of her lungs, and when she was done, Emma brushed her hands together and blew a kiss toward the little mound.
It wasn’t quite the ceremonial prayer Henry had envisioned, but everyone (trying not to laugh) said “Amen” too. When it was over, they walked around the wall together (even Susan, who had forgotten she was thirsty), taking note of their gigantic new possession. It did, for all the silliness of the ceremony, make it feel official; it felt more theirs now that they’d claimed it. Ritual has that effect.
And that was when Emma said, “Roy?”
And Roy answered, “Yeah?”
And Emma pulled him over by the hand and pointed. “I know you said it’s not the right key to the castle, but doesn’t it
look
like the castle wants a key?”
Roy leaned down, looked at where Emma was pointing, and admitted she was right. There, about three feet from the ground, on the shady side of the wall, was a very dingy keyhole set into a metal plate. The metal plate was exactly the same bronzy color as the key.
“Hey, Henry, bring that key back over here a minute,” he called.
Henry stuck his head around the corner of the wall. “Why?” He joined them.
“Just because,” said Roy, who stood up, took the key, and fitted it into the hole.
“What’s happening?” Susan asked, walking over to hover over her brother’s shoulder.
“Henry’s key seems to fit this keyhole,” said Roy, “which is weird. Don’t you think?” He joggled the key.
Henry squatted by the metal plate. “I’ve never seen a key fit into a
wall
before. Usually there’s a door or something. I mean, there’s nothing for this to open, right?”
“Yeah, but it
does
fit,” said Roy. “I even think it’ll turn.” He held his breath as he turned it.
They all listened to the heavy grinding sound and the rough click that it made. They all waited, but nothing more happened. There didn’t appear to be anything to actually unlock.
Roy gave the key back to Henry.
“Fascinating.” Susan yawned. “Anyway,” she said, “I think that since we’ve claimed the wall and it’s one-fourth mine, I’m going to use it for a rest.” She walked a few yards over and plunked right down beside their bikes. She combed out her hair with her fingers, applied a coat of lip gloss, wiped a smear of dirt from her right knee, and then plucked a thick blade of grass, which she placed between her thumbs. When she blew on it, it produced a wonderful piercing sound. One by one, the others followed her lead, until they were all lined up between the metal plate and the bikes, whistling on blades of grass (except for Emma, who could only make a thpbtttttt sound when she blew).
“Dang,” said Henry, looking up at the
was
a castle, it hasn’t been in a long time. Any key to something so old would be long gone or buried deep underground by now.” He handed the key back to Henry, who put it in his pocket.
“C’mon, guys,” said Susan, bored with the key. “I’m thirsty. Let’s think about heading back.”
“But I want to finish the sacrifice,” said Henry. He began to chant again and jump around.
“Fine.” Susan relented. “But make it quick.”
Henry jumped faster. He broke off a slender cornstalk and waved it above his head, chanting even louder. Then he stopped for a second to ask, “Hey, who wants to say the great appreciation prayer while I do my native corn dance of thanks?”
“I will!” piped up Emma, who began to pray loudly and with great feeling.
“Dear Wall, we think you are a very nice wall and we would like you to be our wall from now on. We hope two dollars and some cents is enough because the rest really belongs to Mrs. Levy and it’s all we have. Thank you very much and we’ll come see you again soon and maybe we’ll bring you another present someday. Something better than a dead mouse. Okay? The End. AMEN!” She shouted this last word at the top of her lungs, and when she was done, Emma brushed her hands together and blew a kiss toward the little mound.
It wasn’t quite the ceremonial prayer Henry had envisioned, but everyone (trying not to laugh) said “Amen” too. When it was over, they walked around the wall together (even Susan, who had forgotten she was thirsty), taking note of their gigantic new possession. It did, for all the silliness of the ceremony, make it feel official; it felt more theirs now that they’d claimed it. Ritual has that effect.
And that was when Emma said, “Roy?”
And Roy answered, “Yeah?”
And Emma pulled him over by the hand and pointed. “I know you said it’s not the right key to the castle, but doesn’t it
look
like the castle wants a key?”
Roy leaned down, looked at where Emma was pointing, and admitted she was right. There, about three feet from the ground, on the shady side of the wall, was a very dingy keyhole set into a metal plate. The metal plate was exactly the same bronzy color as the key.
“Hey, Henry, bring that key back over here a minute,” he called.
Henry stuck his head around the corner of the wall. “Why?” He joined them.
“Just because,” said Roy, who stood up, took the key, and fitted it into the hole.
“What’s happening?” Susan asked, walking over to hover over her brother’s shoulder.
“Henry’s key seems to fit this keyhole,” said Roy, “which is weird. Don’t you think?” He joggled the key.
Henry squatted by the metal plate. “I’ve never seen a key fit into a
wall
before. Usually there’s a door or something. I mean, there’s nothing for this to open, right?”
“Yeah, but it
does
fit,” said Roy. “I even think it’ll turn.” He held his breath as he turned it.
They all listened to the heavy grinding sound and the rough click that it made. They all waited, but nothing more happened. There didn’t appear to be anything to actually unlock.
Roy gave the key back to Henry.
“Fascinating.” Susan yawned. “Anyway,” she said, “I think that since we’ve claimed the wall and it’s one-fourth mine, I’m going to use it for a rest.” She walked a few yards over and plunked right down beside their bikes. She combed out her hair with her fingers, applied a coat of lip gloss, wiped a smear of dirt from her right knee, and then plucked a thick blade of grass, which she placed between her thumbs. When she blew on it, it produced a wonderful piercing sound. One by one, the others followed her lead, until they were all lined up between the metal plate and the bikes, whistling on blades of grass (except for Emma, who could only make a thpbtttttt sound when she blew).
“Dang,” said Henry, looking up at the