Horror at the Haunted House Read Online Free Page A

room.
    “Witch!”
    “Heretic!”
    “Death to the traitor!”
    Ellen’s skin prickled.
    When Mr. Streater had learned that Ellen and Corey were to be in the haunted house, he urged them to study the characters they played. Corey had not yet bothered to learn about Prince Rufus but Ellen had read everything she could find about Joan of Arc.
    She learned that Joan was a French patriot and mystic who lived more than five hundred years ago. When Joan was in her teens, she believed she heard the voices of saints directing her to lead the French army against their English invaders. Obeying the voices, she inspired the soldiers and led the French to victory.
    Then, during an attempt to liberate Paris, Joan was taken prisoner and accused of witchcraft. A church court condemned her. Before her death, she publicly declared the justice of France’s cause and the authenticity of the voices she heard. Twenty-five years later, legal proceedings cleared her name and her condemnation was annulled. And in 1920, the Roman Catholic Church declared her a saint.
    Ellen felt sorry for Joan of Arc. A lot of good it did to clear her name after they had already killed her.
    Her only “crimes” were patriotism and a belief that she heard the voices of saints. Why were her accusers so angry?
    When Ellen had asked her father about it, he said people can always find good reasons to do terrible deeds and that the real lesson of history is to stay calm and not be too quick to judge other people.
    As she listened to the angry voices, Ellen wished the people who condemned Joan of Arc had not been so quick to judge.
    Agnes hit another switch. As the lights dimmed, Ellen felt as if she stood in the middle of a fire. Red and yellow lights whirled at her feet in a way that made the pile of sticks appear to be burning. She heard the crackling of the flames, with the shouting crowd still in the background. To her amazement, she also smelled smoke.
    “I can smell it!” she said.
    “Several of the exhibits have smells as well as sight and sound,” Agnes said. “Technicians from the Provincial Museum in Vancouver, British Columbia, helped us prepare them.”
    Ellen leaned her head against the stake and looked upward. Joan of Arc must have been terrified, with the flames leaping around her ankles and the wild crowd cheering as her clothing caught fire. How did she keep from struggling and screaming? How did she manage to stand there calmly and pray?
    “It’s perfect,” Agnes said. She stood now in the viewing area, behind the ropes that would keep the public at the far end of the parlor. “You look exactly like Joan should look.”
    “Thanks,” Perhaps, Ellen decided, she had judged Agnes too hastily. Maybe she wasn’t mean, after all.
    Agnes turned off all the special effects and untied the ropes. Since Ellen didn’t have to practice with anyone else or rehearse any lines, she finished before Corey did.
    While she waited for Grandma and Corey, Ellen went back into the dining room to look at the Fairylustre again. Each piece was different; each had exquisite colors. Not all of the Fairylustre pieces had fairy scenes, however. One had tiny drops of gold forming a spider web pattern. Another, a large vase, pictured a twisted, dry tree with demon’s heads instead of leaves, and bats hanging on the branches. At the foot of the tree, a white rabbit with pink eyes, wearing a pink jacket, seemed to be running for his life. Ellen wondered if there were stories depicted on the Fairylustre or just random scenes.
    Behind her, Ellen heard Corey’s excited voice. “Wait till you hear me scream, Mighty Mike. I’m going to practice until I’m the best screamer in the world.”
    I hope he practices when I’m not around, Ellen thought.
    She leaned close to the vase, noticing new details. As she did, she had the same sensation she’d had earlier, that someone was watching her. As she looked around at the empty room, she felt a sudden chilling breeze, as if