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The next morning I was in the garage, attempting to clean Dad’s tent.
The night before, we quickly gathered it up — still full of sleeping bags — and dragged it back home to the lawn. I had found Dad’s flashlight. Hailey had not found her phone.
The two of them ran off down the street in the drizzling rain. I snuck in through the sliding door, which I found Mom had left unlocked, and went to bed.
At breakfast Dad came in with his beard freshly shaved off, and excitedly asked how my night went. Then he saw the tent sitting in a heap in the backyard, covered in mud. His only remark was, “Looks like you had a real adventure.”
I nodded and showed him the broken flashlight. He laughed it off and chucked it in the garbage.
Now the sun poured in through the open garage door. I had a bucket of water and was scrubbing the mud off the fabric and cleaning the zipper with an old toothbrush. Luckily, only two stakes had gone missing in the woods somewhere.
My flip phone buzzed in my pocket, and I pulled it out.
It was a text from Bridger, my friend from my old town. He said they were tearing down the Old Waffle House and making it into a donut shop. Hmm, I thought. My family used to go to The Old Waffle House a lot, and I doubted the new donut place would be as good.
“Hey, Scott,” I heard Hailey’s voice and looked up. She was standing at the garage door entrance. As she walked up, I put my phone back in my pocket.
Hailey took a good look at the tent. “Looks like it’s in one piece,” she said.
“Yeah,” I said, “thankfully.” I leaned back over and continued scrubbing.
“What are you gonna do today?” she asked.
“Get this clean, I guess,” I said. “Then the moving truck should be here around one, and I gotta help unpack. We might go look for a bike later too, if unpacking goes well.”
She nodded. “You think anyone will believe us?”
“About the wildman?” I said. “Probably not.”
Hailey nodded again. “I gotta go find my phone.”
I stopped scrubbing and stared at her. “You’re crazy to go back in there.”
“Yeah,” she said. “I’ll be back in a couple of minutes.”
I muttered under my breath, “If you’re lucky...”
She took off running to the side of the house. I continued to stare even after she was out of sight.
After a long while, I finally started scrubbing again. I had to say, the zipper was looking pretty good. Now I just had the rest to do.
She’d been gone a long time. Hadn’t she? I checked my phone. I guessed not that long.
I tried scrubbing again. Then I put the brush down and sat up.
Should I go make sure she’s okay?
I was still trying to decide what to do when Hailey suddenly reappeared at the open garage door. I let out a sigh of relief.
“Found it.” She held her phone out. It was covered in dry mud and the screen was cracked. Hailey rubbed the dirt off on her pant leg, then examined it.
“I bet it won’t turn on,” she said, as she held the power button. It buzzed and the screen lit up. “I can’t believe it!” she said. She started fumbling around with it, testing it out.
I went back to scrubbing. Cleaning was going to take forever.
“Scott!” she squealed in excitement.
I looked up. Hailey’s eyes were wide open. “What is it?” I asked.
She looked up from the phone and stared at me.
“Scott,” she said, “it took a picture!”
Add more tales of terror to your collection!
Here’s a terrifying preview of what’s next from R.H. Grimly...
#2: WHY I DON’T SLEEP ON FEATHER BEDS
Great Aunt Ethel’s farmhouse was not a place I wanted to stay. It was in the middle of nowhere. It was old and creepy. And there was going to be nothing to do.
I sat in the back seat of our car, playing a game on my mom’s phone, while we drove through miles of farmland. It was nearly dusk, but there was nothing to see except alfalfa and cornfields anyway.
My sister Torrie was sitting across from me, staring out the window, listening to music on her phone with headphones on. She’s sixteen so she gets her own phone. I’m twelve.
Dad was driving. Mom was sitting in the passenger seat up front, trying to convince Dad that leaving us with Great Aunt Ethel was a good idea.
I could have told them the answer, but nobody asked me.
Dad was saying, “She’s kind of crazy.”
“No, she’s not!” said Mom defensively, but with a laugh that made it sound like she actually thought otherwise. “It’s gonna be great,” she said. Then a little louder so we could all hear, “Remember the crater?”
My ears perked up.
“Crater?” I asked, glancing up from my screen. Maybe there would be something to do.
Mom nodded, looking back at me. “Yeah, fifteen years ago they had a meteorite crash, right by their property,” she said. She glanced over to Torrie. “It’s super rare... and cool!”
Torrie just rolled her eyes. “Sounds real cool.”
The car ran over a pothole in the road and bounced, and I hit the wrong button on my game. My knight character ran into a fire, bursting into flames.
Game Over.
“Dang it,” I said to myself, and started a new game.
“The mailboxes should be just up ahead,” said Dad. “I almost missed the turn last time.”
“I think we’ve got another minute,” said Mom. “You sure?” asked Dad.
I paused the game and looked out the window. We were passing another field of corn. The dark shapes of the stalks were black against an orange sky. Suddenly, the corn disappeared into another wide-open field.
“There they are!” said Mom.
Ahead of us on the shoulder of the road, barely reached by our headlights, stood two old mailboxes. As we approached, I could see they stood watch over a dirt road that led into the fields.
Dad slowed the car a little and abruptly turned off the highway onto the dirt road. The car rumbled across the bumps and kicked up a cloud of dust behind us.
“This is really the way to Aunt Ethel’s house?” I asked, looking at the empty fields around us.
“Yeah,” said Torrie. “You don’t remember it?”
Mom said, “Gavin was pretty little last time we visited.”
Staring out the window, I asked, “Why were there two mailboxes?”
“One is Mr. Richter’s box,” said Mom. “He owns the next farm over.”
We passed another dirt road turnoff, and in the far-off distance I could see the shape of a small farmhouse. “That’s Mr. Richter’s farm,” said Mom.
I nodded and continued staring out the window. In the dying light outside, I could see the remains of old farm equipment, laying lifeless in the fields. We passed an old tractor.
“What does Aunt Ethel grow out here?” I asked.
“Mostly alfalfa to feed cows,” said Mom. “They used to farm it a lot, but Aunt Ethel is getting older.” I nodded as we continued down the bumpy dirt road.
Then in the distance, I saw the house rising up from the fields, shadowed against the barely-lit sky. It was a tall, old-fashioned farmhouse.
Curious, I watched from the car window, but the closer we got the more my stomach sank.
The house loomed in front of us, big and dark. More broken farming equipment sat silent around the yard. Fences led past an old barn.
Great Aunt Ethel’s house had weathered-wood siding with rickety window panes, and stood two stories with a steep roof and third story attic. The attic had two small, triangle-shaped windows that stared down at us like eyes, watching us drive closer. On the roof above the attic perched a weathervane shaped like a rooster.
I couldn’t believe it. Why would Mom think this was a good idea? The place just looked creepy.
“We really have to stay here?” I asked.
For probably the hundredth time in the last two days, Mom said again, “You’re gonna love it!”
I seriously doubted that, but knowing it was pointless to protest, I just kept staring out the car window at the approaching house.
“Gavin, I’m going to need my phone back,” said Mom.
I reluctantly handed it to her.
“There’s no reception out here anyway,” muttered Torrie under her breath.
“Don’t worry,” said Mom, “Aunt Ethel has a landline.”
“What’s a landline?” I asked.
Dad burst out laughing.
“It’s an old-timey telephone,” said Mom.
We pulled up to the old farmhouse, and Dad killed the engine. Mom jumped out, followed by Dad and Torrie, but I moved a little slower.
Hesitantly, I climbed out of the car and shut the door behind me, unable to take my eyes off the tall house. It was completely dark except for one ground floor window, lit up behind a curtain. I noticed a thin trail of smoke coming from a brick chimney.
Torrie walked a little way from the car and looked around, unimpressed. She still had her music blasting through her headphones.
Leaning against the car, I continued to stare at the old house, while Mom and Dad pulled our small travel suitcases from the back. The house had a porch that wrapped around it with white pillars. The front door was tall with an ornate window on top.
I heard a noise from inside the house. Then the brass door handle rattled, and the big door squeaked open a crack. From the dark opening, the face of an old lady peered out at us. Her eyes glanced around, then rested on me and just stared.
“Hello!” I heard Mom say.
The old lady looked at her, then slammed the door shut with a BAM!
Aunt Ethel’s farm is... strange.
It’s in the middle of nowhere,
A crazy old man lives next door,
There’s a meteor crater out back,
And something is growing inside the bed...
WHY I DON’T SLEEP ON FEATHER BEDS
FRIGHTLAND #2
by R.H. Grimly
About the Author
R.H. Grimly was born with a fortunately sinister name. He grew up on Goosebumps, The Dark Thirty, Wait Till Helen Comes, and Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark and has one goal: to get kids excited to read and scare them silly while doing it (okay, that’s two goals).
When he isn’t writing scary books, he’s usually writing screenplays for films.
Rob lives near Park City with his wife Leah and their four kids.
SPECIAL BONUS CONTENT
Could There Be a Real Wildman?
Bigfoot legends have always been part of our landscape, from old Native American stories to more recent sightings in the woods by hunters and hikers. Many people think it’s hogwash, but many people swear they’ve seen something big and spooky lurking in the woods.
Bigfoot goes by many names, depending on where you’re from. For instance, if you live in the southeastern United States (like Scott and Hailey), you might know this creature as the Skunk Ape. In the forests of the Pacific Northwest it’s the Bigfoot, but in Canada it’s Sasquatch. And of course there’s the Yeti in Tibet. You may not have heard of the Almas in Mongolia, though, or the Yowie of Australia.
With all these wildman legends (and new sightings every year), could there be some truth to the tale?
You Decide!
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
The author and publisher gratefully acknowledge the following individuals and sponsors fro their contribution to the creation of this book:
Bobby Packer
Brandon Heffner
DanniDarkness
David Skinner and Family
Delfina Sage Farris
Four Corners Collectibles
Holly Bowers
J. York
Jairred Lambert
Jeff Roth
Joshua Monk
Matthew N. Anderson
Pedro Manuel Muñoz Ruiz
Opa and Oma Miller
Rupert G.A. Fuller
Stéphane Tremblay
Sven
Ted York
Wendy Bennett Hollis
Willow Dawn Becker
Other books by Barde Press
FRIGHTLAND series:
#1 The Wildman of Shaggy Creek
#2 Why I Don’t Sleep On Feather Beds
#3 The Bones at the Bottom of the Lake
#5 Once Upon a Slime (coming soon)
Young Starfighters – YA science fiction with a hard twist. Fans of Ender’s Game will enjoy this first-person adventure following a teen space pilot up against a grand conspiracy and a mysterious armada of enemy ships.
Denver Burning – a grid-down post-apocalyptic series following a small band of heroic people through the end of civilization—and its rebirth, if they can overcome the forces that brought it down.
Find out more about the FRIGHTLAND books and other Barde Press titles at bardepress.com, where you can also sign up to be notified of R.H. Grimly’s next release
and join the official FRIGHTLAND fan club for exclusive bonuses!
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