Campbell Wood Read Online Free Page B
out and call for Mom and Dad.
Scratch.
The closet drew closer. Kaymie's heart was pounding, and her breath came short. A perverse thrill went through her. While she was frightened, she could also see herself being frightened from a distance, as if she were in a horror movie.
It would be so easy to run.
The closet was just three steps away. She reached out her hand for the door, in slow motion, just as there was a loud cracking sound behind it.
Her hand and heart froze.
After a tick of silence, the door began to open by itself. Kaymie's legs were paralyzed with fear. By itself, the door slid shut again.
With a sudden, almost uncontrolled jerk of her hand Kaymie threw the door all the way open. A fearful anticipation went through her, and she jumped back a step.
Nothing flew out at her.
But the light was dim. Someone could be pressed against the back wall, out of sight.
He could be back there, waiting for her to go back to sleep.
Waiting like the man in Clara's room, with wild eyes and a knife in his hand.
She turned from the closet and with a quick move turned on the lamp on the nightstand next to her bed. The room brightened, blinding her momentarily. In that moment she imagined she felt a hand on her shoulder, a hand cold and hard. She squinted against the new light: no one was there.
And the closet, the part she could see, was still empty.
It was a walk-in closet, five feet deep with shelves across the back. One whole side was illuminated now, but the sliding door made a shadowland of the other half.
Kaymie put her head cautiously into the cubicle, holding her breath.
The tiny room was empty.
She moved with care to the back, looking for what could have made the sounds. There was silence. Something sounded behind her and she turned with a gasp. It was only a small box falling over. She picked it up and placed it squarely in position.
There was nothing obvious that could have made the other sounds. Most everything was still in moving cartons. Kaymie turned over a few shoeboxes and a carton of her comics and books on the back shelves, but found nothing out of the ordinary.
As she was replacing the last of the shoeboxes there was a crack overhead. Kaymie looked up to see a slat of wood from the top shelf above her breaking away. She turned her head aside, narrowly avoiding it as it fell into her box of books.
She picked it up and examined it, stretching up to see where it fit in the shelf. There was nothing up there in that spot that could have weighed it down. The piece of shelving looked as though it had been sawed off, the break was so clean. It was almost perfectly rectangular. Could a mouse do this? She didn't know. But just to make sure she brought a crate over to stand on and examined the whole length of the shelf. She laid the piece of wood at the back and climbed down.
Kaymie stepped out of the closet and slid the door firmly shut behind her. She was about to get back into bed when her dollhouse, the only thing in the room she had unpacked, caught her eye.
This was her special possession, the only thing of her grandmother's that she owned. Her grandmother had made her grandfather promise that if Mark ever got married and had a daughter, he would give this house to her.
It was beautiful. The whole front of the structure swung open on two hidden hinges, revealing neatly decorated rooms within. There were three floors counting the attic, which Kaymie used to store her extra furniture. There were doorways between the rooms and exactly built staircases leading from floor to floor.
Kaymie found herself staring at the front of the house as if she had never seen it before. There was something about it she had never noticed before. Something—
Kaymie suddenly realized that her dollhouse was an exact miniature of their new house, right down to the little window in the attic and the front and back porches.
"Wow," she said under her breath. She swung open the front of the house and began to tinker,
Scratch.
The closet drew closer. Kaymie's heart was pounding, and her breath came short. A perverse thrill went through her. While she was frightened, she could also see herself being frightened from a distance, as if she were in a horror movie.
It would be so easy to run.
The closet was just three steps away. She reached out her hand for the door, in slow motion, just as there was a loud cracking sound behind it.
Her hand and heart froze.
After a tick of silence, the door began to open by itself. Kaymie's legs were paralyzed with fear. By itself, the door slid shut again.
With a sudden, almost uncontrolled jerk of her hand Kaymie threw the door all the way open. A fearful anticipation went through her, and she jumped back a step.
Nothing flew out at her.
But the light was dim. Someone could be pressed against the back wall, out of sight.
He could be back there, waiting for her to go back to sleep.
Waiting like the man in Clara's room, with wild eyes and a knife in his hand.
She turned from the closet and with a quick move turned on the lamp on the nightstand next to her bed. The room brightened, blinding her momentarily. In that moment she imagined she felt a hand on her shoulder, a hand cold and hard. She squinted against the new light: no one was there.
And the closet, the part she could see, was still empty.
It was a walk-in closet, five feet deep with shelves across the back. One whole side was illuminated now, but the sliding door made a shadowland of the other half.
Kaymie put her head cautiously into the cubicle, holding her breath.
The tiny room was empty.
She moved with care to the back, looking for what could have made the sounds. There was silence. Something sounded behind her and she turned with a gasp. It was only a small box falling over. She picked it up and placed it squarely in position.
There was nothing obvious that could have made the other sounds. Most everything was still in moving cartons. Kaymie turned over a few shoeboxes and a carton of her comics and books on the back shelves, but found nothing out of the ordinary.
As she was replacing the last of the shoeboxes there was a crack overhead. Kaymie looked up to see a slat of wood from the top shelf above her breaking away. She turned her head aside, narrowly avoiding it as it fell into her box of books.
She picked it up and examined it, stretching up to see where it fit in the shelf. There was nothing up there in that spot that could have weighed it down. The piece of shelving looked as though it had been sawed off, the break was so clean. It was almost perfectly rectangular. Could a mouse do this? She didn't know. But just to make sure she brought a crate over to stand on and examined the whole length of the shelf. She laid the piece of wood at the back and climbed down.
Kaymie stepped out of the closet and slid the door firmly shut behind her. She was about to get back into bed when her dollhouse, the only thing in the room she had unpacked, caught her eye.
This was her special possession, the only thing of her grandmother's that she owned. Her grandmother had made her grandfather promise that if Mark ever got married and had a daughter, he would give this house to her.
It was beautiful. The whole front of the structure swung open on two hidden hinges, revealing neatly decorated rooms within. There were three floors counting the attic, which Kaymie used to store her extra furniture. There were doorways between the rooms and exactly built staircases leading from floor to floor.
Kaymie found herself staring at the front of the house as if she had never seen it before. There was something about it she had never noticed before. Something—
Kaymie suddenly realized that her dollhouse was an exact miniature of their new house, right down to the little window in the attic and the front and back porches.
"Wow," she said under her breath. She swung open the front of the house and began to tinker,
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