The House of Dies Drear Read Online Free Page A

said suddenly. Mrs. Small raised her head from her pillow and looked around at him.
    “Papa,” Thomas said, “whatever became of that third slave?”
    Mr. Small stiffened over the steering wheel. He looked straight ahead, gripping the wheel with both hands.
    Thomas held his breath for a second, then blew a silent whistle through his teeth.
    His father began speaking so gravely and in such a low voice, Thomas had to lean very close to hear. “When we get where we’re going… . Now listen closely,” his father said, “because I don’t want to tell you again. You are to speak to no one about the foundation’s report on the house of Dies Drear, do you understand? And nothing about the three slaves. Don’t even think about it, and speak of it to no one!”
    Thomas sat back with his brothers, watching the bleak West Virginia landscape through the rain that right-flanked them in dull, white sheets across the highway.
    So the third slave is the question, Thomas thought. I have found that much out.
    Thomas’ eyes grew heavy with fatigue. His brothers played happily around him. As he fell asleep, his mind curled around one thought.
    But what is it? What is the answer?

Chapter 3
    THOMAS DID NOT wake in time to see the Ohio River. Mr. Small was glad he didn’t, for through the gloom of mist and heavy rain, most of its expanse was hidden. What was visible looked much like a thick mud path, as the sedan crossed over it at Huntington.
    Thomas lurched awake a long time after. The car went slowly; there was hardly any rain now. His mother spoke excitedly, and Thomas had to shake his head rapidly in order to understand what she was saying.
    “Oh dear! My heavens!” Mrs. Small said. “Why it’s huge!”
    Mr. Small broke in eagerly, turning around to face Thomas. “You’ve waited a long time,” he said. “Take a good look, son. There’s our new house!”
    Thomas looked carefully out of his window. He opened the car door for a few seconds to see better, but found the moist air too warm and soft. The feel of it was not nice at all, and he quickly closed the door. He could see well enough out of the window, and what he saw made everything inside him grow quiet for the first time in weeks. It was more than he could have dreamed.
    The house of Dies Drear loomed out of mist and murky sky, not only gray and formless, but huge and unnatural. It seemed to crouch on the side of a hill high above the highway. And it had a dark, isolated look about it that set it at odds with all that was living.
    A chill passed over Thomas. He sighed with satisfaction. The house of Dies Drear was a haunted place, of that he was certain.
    “Well,” Mr. Small said, “what do you think of it, Thomas?”
    “It must be the biggest house anyone ever built,” Thomas said at last. “And to think—it’s our new house! Papa, let’s get closer, let’s go inside!”
    Smiling, Mr. Small kept the car on the highway that now curved up closer toward the house. In a short time they were quite near.
    At the base of the hill on which the house sat, a stream ran parallel to the highway. It was muddy and swollen by rain; between it and the hill lay a reach of fertile land, lushly tangled with mullein weed and gold wild-flower. The hill itself was rocky and mostly bare, although a thaw had come to the rest of the land and countryside. At the very top of the hill Thomas noticed a grove of trees, which looked like either pine or spruce.
    The house of Dies Drear sat on an outcropping, much like a ledge, on the side of the hill. The face of the ledge was rock, from which gushed mineral springs. And these came together at the fertile land, making a narrow groove through it before emptying into the stream. Running down the face of the ledge, the springs coated the rock in their path with red and yellow rust.
    Thomas stared so long at the ledge and springs, his eyes began to play tricks on him. It seemed as if the rust moved along with the spring waters.
    “It’s