My Haunted House (3 page)

I
have a Secret Passage Kit, just like my Ghost Kit. I have always wanted to find a secret passage, and now I was sure that at last I had the key to one.

First I opened my Secret Passage Kit box and took out a flashlight, a ball of string, and some emergency supplies of cheese and onion chips. You need a flashlight because secret passages are always dark, and you need
a ball of string so that you can find your way out again—I'll tell you how that works in a minute. You need emergency food supplies, as you never know how long you are going to be in the secret passage, do you? I mean it might be a really long one, and you could be in there for days. Weeks, even.

Then I set off to look for the secret door. I thought that the most likely place was in the wood paneling under the stairs. It sounds hollow when you kick it. But finding the door wasn't as easy as I thought it might be, as everything was covered in Aunt Tabby's favorite thick brown paint. When I looked really hard, I was sure I could see a keyhole-shaped dip. I scraped off the paint with the end of the key and there it was—a small brass keyhole just the right size for the small brass key. It fit perfectly. So I
turned the key and the best thing
ever
happened—a secret door swung open.

I switched on my flashlight and shone it through the doorway. It looked exactly like a secret passage should look—dark, dusty, and really, really secret. You could tell that no one had been in there for years. Weird, I thought, because now
I
was going in. On my own. I'm not saying that I wished Aunt Tabby was there with me just then, as she was the last person
I wanted to see, but I wouldn't have minded a friend or someone like that. I don't want you to think that I was frightened of going in on my own, as I am quite used to doing stuff on my own and it is perfectly okay. No problem at all.

Here's the thing about the string. When you go into a secret passage, you have to tie one end of a ball of string to something and then you unwind the string as you go, so that you can always find your way back again. There was a nail on the back of the secret door, so I tied the string to that. Perfect. Then I closed the door so that Aunt Tabby didn't notice anything unusual, switched on my flashlight, and set off along the passage, unwinding the string as I went.

The secret passage was really strange. It
was very narrow and full of cobwebs and it smelled funny, kind of damp and moldy. I think it ran behind the wooden paneling of the landing, as it had really scratchy wooden walls. Although it was narrow, it was quite high and easy to walk along, even though I had to keep pushing really thick cobwebs out of the way. It's a good thing I don't mind spiders, as there were dozens of
those
. Really fat ones.

I wasn't scared. Not really. After all, I was still in my house, wasn't I? But it was a bit odd when the passage suddenly ended at a wooden platform. I wasn't sure whether to step onto the platform or not. Anyone who knows about secret passages has heard about booby traps and stuff like that, so I stopped and thought about what to do. I shone my
flashlight all around, but it wasn't much help. When I looked more closely, I could see that the platform had sides, a bit like a packing case, and there were ropes running up and down on either side. It reminded me of something, but I couldn't think what. And then I could!

It was a dumbwaiter.

No, I am not being rude about some poor old waiter—a dumbwaiter is a kind of elevator. I knew that because there used to be one just like it in the first-kitchen-on-the-right-just-past-the-laundry-room, and that is what Aunt Tabby used to call it. I remember one rainy day I was
so
bored and I got inside the elevator and hauled myself up to the dining room. It was the best fun ever, and I spent all afternoon going up and down until Aunt
Tabby caught me. After that she nailed a load of planks across it so that I couldn't go in it anymore, which I thought was mean.

So I stepped onto the platform and pulled on the rope, just as I had before. The platform kind of groaned a bit, but nothing happened. I put my flashlight down and used two hands to pull the rope really hard—and the platform moved! I guess that bit
was
a little scary, as
the platform started going down into what felt like a dark chimney, and I wasn't sure where I was heading. I was pretty pleased when I saw the top of an old door appear.

I stopped the platform outside the door. I could tell it was a very old door, as it had big iron hinges across it and looked as though it had come out of a castle or something. But I couldn't see a handle and, when I pushed it, it wouldn't move. Stupid door. I gave it a really big push, I even kicked it, but nothing happened. It just wouldn't budge.

Then I remembered what it said on the label on the little brass key—
“Doth Fitt all Doors.”

I didn't really believe the key would fit, as it was so small compared with the door, but when I looked carefully I saw a small brass
keyhole, just like the one on the door to the secret passage. The key turned easily, and the door swung open.

I shone my flashlight through the doorway, and it lit up a tiny room. The room had a small fireplace, some very dark and dusty pictures, and some big old candles in brass holders on the walls. In one corner there was a broken old chair with some tattered books piled up on it, and on the floor in front of the fireplace was an old rug. I just stood there for a moment, kind of holding my breath. It was so quiet that I hardly dared go in.

But I did.

I tiptoed in and swung my flashlight around the walls, looking for a door to the balcony. Of course there were no windows, but you wouldn't expect any in a secret room
in the very middle of a house, would you? But sure enough, there was a door. Great, I thought. It took me three steps to cross the room. I put the small brass key in the door and it swung open. I nearly walked straight out, as I really wanted to get to the balcony by then, because time was getting on, but I knew that you always have to look where you're going in a secret passage. It's a good thing I did, as the door opened out into
nothing
. A great big deep hole, in fact. Scary.

A gust of warm, musty wind blew up from the hole. It smelled kind of sooty and damp at the same time. I shone my flashlight and saw that there was an old wooden ladder leading down to…where?

But I didn't want to go down the ladder; I wanted to find the balcony. So I went back
into the room and did all the things you have to do to make a secret door appear. I tried to turn the brass candlesticks, but they wouldn't move. I looked behind all the old pictures, but there was nothing there. I even kicked the old fireplace, but it felt as solid as a rock. There was no way out to the balcony—that was for sure.

So I decided to climb down the ladder.

It was a bit scary getting onto the ladder. It wobbled and creaked a lot, but I knew that you have to expect these things in a secret passage. Then the door slammed, and I nearly fell off. That was really scary.

I set off down the ladder, which was quite difficult, as I could only hold on to it with one hand since I had my flashlight in the other hand—and the ball of string in my teeth.
I don't like the taste of string.

The other thing I didn't like very much was the way the air was getting hotter and hotter. I remembered about how it gets hotter as you get near the center of the earth, and the more I climbed down the ladder, the more I wondered if I was getting too close to that bit in the middle where all the rocks melt. But just as I was wondering whether
to go back up, I got to the bottom of the ladder and stepped onto the ground. It seemed pretty solid to me, so I figured I hadn't got to the molten rock just yet.

I was in a real tunnel now, with brick sides and a sandy floor. I decided to follow the tunnel just for a while, in case the balcony was around the next corner. The tunnel twisted and turned all over the place, and the air became even hotter, which didn't make any sense to me, as I wasn't going down anymore.

And then I heard it—a really horrible, teeth-grating, toe-curling, clanging noise. The exact kind of noise that you get when a ghost drags a ball and chain behind it. I have heard that those ball-and-chain ghosts are not nice ghosts to meet. I suppose they are grumpy
because they have to drag all that stuff with them wherever they go. I stopped where I was and switched off my flashlight so that the ball-and-chain ghost would not see me, but being in the dark didn't make me feel any better. In fact, it made me feel a whole lot worse, so I switched the flashlight on again.

That was when the screaming started. Horrible, spine-chilling screaming. It filled up the secret passage and echoed all around me. It was the scariest sound I had ever,
ever
heard.

And the worse thing was, I knew for sure what it meant—that the ball-and-chain ghost was coming to get me.

A
unt Tabby may think it is a big joke to go around frightening people who are exploring secret passages, but I do not. In fact, I think it is in very poor taste, as Uncle Drac would say.

It did not take me long to realize that ball-and-chain ghosts do not scream, “DRAT THIS BOILER!” In fact, I don't think that ball-and-chain ghosts are even a little bit
interested in boilers.

“DRAT THIS BOILER! I HATE THIS GRATE!” I could hear Aunt Tabby yelling through the wall of the secret passage as clearly as if I was standing next to her. I was glad I wasn't standing next to her, as I could also hear her kicking the coal scuttle and throwing the shovel at the wall.

But time was running out. Soon a whole bunch of people who liked haunted houses would be walking around my house, deciding that
they
were going to live there instead of
me
. And if I was not careful, I would be stuck in a secret passage and not able to do a thing about it. I decided I had to give up on the balcony idea and go back and plan a Slimebucket Surprise. It was better than nothing.

Since Aunt Tabby had given me a really big fright, I wanted to give her one back before I went. I looked for a chink in the wall to shine my flashlight through so that she would think there was a ghost in the boiler room—and that was when I saw him.

I saw a ghost
.

He was sitting in a dark corner a bit farther down the secret passage. At first I was so surprised that I thought he was just an ordinary boy, so I said, “Hey! What are you doing here?”

But when he looked up at me, there was something about his face that made me shiver, and I knew he must be a ghost. He had watery, ghostly eyes, and his face was kind of transparent and glowed with a pale light. I thought he was probably a ghost from long
ago, as he had a funny bowl haircut and wore a tunic with a long hood. He had a dagger tucked into his belt too, which I thought looked pretty good—Aunt Tabby won't let me have a dagger, however much I ask her. In fact, I felt as though I had seen him somewhere before, as he looked just like the pictures of medieval pages in my knight-time storybook.

I was pleased that he wasn't a nasty ball-and-chain ghost. I went up to him and asked, just to make sure, “Are you a
real
ghost?”

He didn't answer—in fact he looked
scared, like
he
had seen a ghost. It was a bit disappointing, really, as that was kind of backward.
I
was meant to be scared of
him
.

“So what's your name?” I asked.

He still didn't answer, which I thought was rude. Aunt Tabby would have told him it was rude too. He looked away and stared at the floor, and I could tell he was hoping that I would just go away. But there was no way I was going to walk away from the very first ghost I had ever found, especially after I'd been looking for one for such a long time.

“You must have a
name
,” I told him. I had expected a ghost to be more fun than this one was turning out to be. But then I heard something that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. A weird, hollow whisper filled up the air all around me.

“Edmund…”
the whisper said. It was
him
—the ghost boy—talking. And it was
spooky
.

Edmund floated up from the floor and drifted over toward me. I took a step back, as I suddenly wasn't so sure that I wanted to talk to a ghost after all. And then Edmund said something really odd—he said,
“Are you the Tabitha?”

He spoke with a strange accent that reminded me of some French people who had once turned up at the house, thinking it was a guesthouse. They hadn't stayed long.

“No,” I told him, “I'm the…I'm Araminta.”

“Good,”
said Edmund, and he sort of walked up the wall and began to wander upside down along the ceiling.
“I do not like
the Tabitha,”
he said in his funny accent.
“The Tabitha is noisy.”

He had a point, I thought. There were times when I didn't like the Tabitha either, and the Tabitha was most definitely noisy. In fact, just as Edmund was saying that, I could hear Aunt Tabby angrily shoveling coal into the boiler and banging the door closed with a loud clang. I figured Edmund must have heard a lot of Aunt Tabby's tantrums over the years.

Then, just as I was beginning to like Edmund, he said,
“You must go now.”

“What?” I asked him.

“You must go. You may not come any closer.”

“Why?”

He didn't answer. He just floated up and down in front of me with his arms outstretched, as if he could stop me from going
past him. He need not have bothered, as there was no way I was going to walk through a ghost.
Brrr.
No way at all.

“Well, I don't want to go any farther, so there,” I told him. “I only came to look for the way to the balcony.”

“The balcony is not down here,”
said Edmund, who had begun slowly spinning around for some weird reason—don't ask me why.
“So you must leave. Farewell.”

It sounded to me as though Edmund knew where the balcony was, so I asked him if he would take me there.

“If I take you to the balcony, will you go away?”
he asked.

I don't hang around where I'm not wanted. I have better things to do.

“Well, I don't want to stay down here, do I?” I told him.

“Don't you?”
said Edmund.
“Oh good. Follow me.”

So I followed him.