Fear the Barfitron Read Online Free

hissing noise. Almost like a moan.
    Before I could figure out what it was coming from, one of the ravens screamed a sharp CAW and swooped in where the grass was jiggling and shaking. Then there was a terrible scream. I couldn’t tell if it was from the raven or whatever the raven was attacking, but it sounded human.
    The raven flapped around in the grass. It was straining, as if something was holding it down. Soon, it was able to gain enough speed to burst out of the ground covering. It was clutching a huge brown bug—almost the size of a cat—and the bug’s legs were flailing around. The screaming started again, this time not muffled by the grass. I still wasn’t sure if it was the raven, but it had to be. I’d never heard of a screaming bug before.
    The raven soared higher and higher and let the bug go. The bug hit the ground with a squelchy squish and the screaming stopped. All of the ravens suddenly swooped in and disappeared into the grass where the bug had dropped.
    Just as I was craning my neck to get a better look, I felt a strong hand on my shoulder. I screamed.

I whipped my head back around. Standing in front of the open door was a huge man in a nurse’s uniform. His giant round and swollen head was topped with a white hat that looked two sizes too small. He spun me around with his massive hands and then gestured through the open door. He had a look of panic on his red face.
    “Inside. Safer. Now.”
    There was no way this nut job worked at the retirement home. The nurse’s uniform wasn’t going to fool anybody. I bet Raven Hill
had
closed and this escaped mental patient had moved in. My instinct was to run back down the side of the hill. Of course, massive bugs waited at the bottom of the steps, so perhaps inside was better.
    “NOW!” he said again, and used a beefy arm to push me through the door. He slammed it closed behind us. Above us, a chandelier covered completely in spiderwebs swayed slightly as the Nurse locked what sounded like thirty-four locks and then muttered under his breath. I turned around to see that—for a split second—the back of the door glowed green. The same green as the letter I had stolen.
    As the glow faded, the room became pitch-black. I was lost in the cold darkness with nothing but the sound of the Nurse’s deep, labored breathing.
    Gradually my eyes started to adjust to the darkness. Maybe it was an illusion, but on the inside the home seemed much bigger than it had looked from the outside. But just as run-down.
    “Wait here,” he mumbled, then turned and left.
    As I waited alone in the mildewy, cavernous lobby, I could hear activity—faint voices and the occasional moan of an old person. At least I hoped it was an old person—that would mean that the crazy Nurse wasn’t going off to sharpen an ax. I looked around—there were a whole bunch of rooms down on the first floor and a decrepit stairway leading upstairs. I looked down at the rug, which was threadbare and holey. Dusty old paintings of sour-looking people lined the walls.
    “This is like an old old-person’s home,” I whispered to myself.
    “Indeed,” boomed a voice.
    My chest tightened as a figure stepped out from the shadows. I turned to face a scrawny man with a pale, gaunt face. His jet-black hair was perfectly parted and his black eyes gleamed.
    “Some of the clientele here are exceptionally old,” he added, as he adjusted his amazingly crisp black suit and bloodred tie. “We want to provide them with the appropriate—” he waved his hand around the front hallway and paused for effect “—atmosphere.”
    As if on cue, an organ started playing from somewhere. It echoed through the house, creeping me out even more. He looked over his shoulder, toward the music, and said, “Ah, brunch will be ready soon.”
    “Great,” I said, nervously. “I’m starvin’!”
    “Oh, but you misunderstand me,” said the man, with a sly grin. “You won’t be eating brunch—you’ll be helping to serve