Goosebumps 1 Welcome To Dead House
Chapter 1
Josh and I hated our new house.
Sure, it was big. It looked like a mansion compared to our old house. It was a tall
redbrick house with a sloping black roof and rows of windows framed by black
shutters.
It’s so dark, I thought, studying it from the street. The whole house was covered
in darkness, as if it were hiding in the shadows of the gnarled, old trees that bent over
it.
It was the middle of July, but dead brown leaves blanketed the front yard. Our
sneakers crunched over them as we trudged up the gravel driveway.
Tall weeds poked up everywhere through the dead leaves. Thick clumps of weeds
had completely overgrown an old flower bed beside the front porch.
This house is creepy, I thought unhappily.
Josh must have been thinking the same thing. Looking up at the old house, we
both groaned loudly.
Mr. Dawes, the friendly young man from the local real estate office, stopped near
the front walk and turned around.
“Everything okay?” he asked, staring first at Josh, then at me, with his crinkly
blue eyes.
“Josh and Amanda aren’t happy about moving,” Dad explained, tucking his
shirttail in. Dad is a little overweight, and his shirts always seem to be coming
untucked.
“It’s hard for kids,” my mother added, smiling at Mr. Dawes, her hands shoved
into her jeans pockets as she continued up to the front door. “You know. Leaving all
of their friends behind. Moving to a strange new place.”
“Strange is right,” Josh said, shaking his head. “This house is gross.”
Mr. Dawes chuckled. “It’s an old house, that’s for sure,” he said, patting Josh on
the shoulder.
“It just needs some work, Josh,” Dad said, smiling at Mr. Dawes. “No one has
lived in it for a while, so it’ll take some fixing up.”
“Look how big it is,” Mom added, smoothing back her straight black hair and
smiling at Josh. “We’ll have room for a den and maybe a rec room, too. You’d like
that—wouldn’t you, Amanda?”
I shrugged. A cold breeze made me shiver. It was actually a beautiful, hot
summer day. But the closer we got to the house, the colder I felt.
I guessed it was because of all the tall, old trees.
I was wearing white tennis shorts and a sleeveless blue T-shirt. It had been hot in
the car. But now I was freezing. Maybe it’ll be warmer in the house, I thought.
“How old are they?” Mr. Dawes asked Mom, stepping onto the front porch.
Sure, it was big. It looked like a mansion compared to our old house. It was a tall
redbrick house with a sloping black roof and rows of windows framed by black
shutters.
It’s so dark, I thought, studying it from the street. The whole house was covered
in darkness, as if it were hiding in the shadows of the gnarled, old trees that bent over
it.
It was the middle of July, but dead brown leaves blanketed the front yard. Our
sneakers crunched over them as we trudged up the gravel driveway.
Tall weeds poked up everywhere through the dead leaves. Thick clumps of weeds
had completely overgrown an old flower bed beside the front porch.
This house is creepy, I thought unhappily.
Josh must have been thinking the same thing. Looking up at the old house, we
both groaned loudly.
Mr. Dawes, the friendly young man from the local real estate office, stopped near
the front walk and turned around.
“Everything okay?” he asked, staring first at Josh, then at me, with his crinkly
blue eyes.
“Josh and Amanda aren’t happy about moving,” Dad explained, tucking his
shirttail in. Dad is a little overweight, and his shirts always seem to be coming
untucked.
“It’s hard for kids,” my mother added, smiling at Mr. Dawes, her hands shoved
into her jeans pockets as she continued up to the front door. “You know. Leaving all
of their friends behind. Moving to a strange new place.”
“Strange is right,” Josh said, shaking his head. “This house is gross.”
Mr. Dawes chuckled. “It’s an old house, that’s for sure,” he said, patting Josh on
the shoulder.
“It just needs some work, Josh,” Dad said, smiling at Mr. Dawes. “No one has
lived in it for a while, so it’ll take some fixing up.”
“Look how big it is,” Mom added, smoothing back her straight black hair and
smiling at Josh. “We’ll have room for a den and maybe a rec room, too. You’d like
that—wouldn’t you, Amanda?”
I shrugged. A cold breeze made me shiver. It was actually a beautiful, hot
summer day. But the closer we got to the house, the colder I felt.
I guessed it was because of all the tall, old trees.
I was wearing white tennis shorts and a sleeveless blue T-shirt. It had been hot in
the car. But now I was freezing. Maybe it’ll be warmer in the house, I thought.
“How old are they?” Mr. Dawes asked Mom, stepping onto the front porch.
“Amanda is twelve,” Mom answered. “And Josh turned eleven last month.”
“They look so much alike,” Mr. Dawes told Mom.
I couldn’t decide if that was a compliment or not. I guess it’s true. Josh and I are
both tall and thin and have curly brown hair like Dad’s, and dark brown eyes.
Everyone says we have “serious” faces.
“I really want to go home,” Josh said, his voice cracking. “I hate this place.”
My brother is the most impatient kid in the world. And when he makes up his
mind about something, that’s it. He’s a little spoiled. At least, I think so. Whenever
he makes a big fuss about something, he usually gets his way.
We may look alike, but we’re really not that similar. I’m a lot more patient than
Josh is. A lot more sensible. Probably because I’m older and because I’m a girl.
Josh had hold of Dad’s hand and was trying to pull him back to the car. “Let’s go.
Come on, Dad. Let’s go.”
I knew this was one time Josh wouldn’t get his way. We were moving to this
house. No doubt about it. After all, the house was absolutely free. A great-uncle of
Dad’s, a man we didn’t even know, had died and left the house to Dad in his will.
I’ll never forget the look on Dad’s face when he got the letter from the lawyer.
He let out a loud whoop and began dancing around the living room. Josh and I
hought he’d flipped or something.
“My Great-Uncle Charles has left us a house in his will,” Dad explained, reading
and rereading the letter. “It’s in a town called Dark Falls.”
“They look so much alike,” Mr. Dawes told Mom.
I couldn’t decide if that was a compliment or not. I guess it’s true. Josh and I are
both tall and thin and have curly brown hair like Dad’s, and dark brown eyes.
Everyone says we have “serious” faces.
“I really want to go home,” Josh said, his voice cracking. “I hate this place.”
My brother is the most impatient kid in the world. And when he makes up his
mind about something, that’s it. He’s a little spoiled. At least, I think so. Whenever
he makes a big fuss about something, he usually gets his way.
We may look alike, but we’re really not that similar. I’m a lot more patient than
Josh is. A lot more sensible. Probably because I’m older and because I’m a girl.
Josh had hold of Dad’s hand and was trying to pull him back to the car. “Let’s go.
Come on, Dad. Let’s go.”
I knew this was one time Josh wouldn’t get his way. We were moving to this
house. No doubt about it. After all, the house was absolutely free. A great-uncle of
Dad’s, a man we didn’t even know, had died and left the house to Dad in his will.
I’ll never forget the look on Dad’s face when he got the letter from the lawyer.
He let out a loud whoop and began dancing around the living room. Josh and I
hought he’d flipped or something.
“My Great-Uncle Charles has left us a house in his will,” Dad explained, reading
and rereading the letter. “It’s in a town called Dark Falls.”
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