The Nightmare House by Sarah Allen

Author:Sarah Allen
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Farrar, Straus and Giroux (BYR)

Chambers

There are four doors in a heart.

Open, close, open, close, for blood

and monsters, open open open

for what Grandma calls the better angels

of our nature—

an open door lets the world in,

vines growing around

the hinges, leaves

carpeting the ventricle floor.

Up there, see the giant heart oak.

In some of these chambers

there are so many roses

so many forget-me-nots and—

coming through that cracked-open door—

so many subtle

deep-rooted

weeds.

Into the Woods

I went into the woods when I was nine.

Right after my birthday.

That birthday, the Fear Maker sent me a nightmare about my parents’ heads on silver platters, his own special gift to me.

Go away go away go away. My constant chant.

He didn’t listen. He never listens. I woke up after this nightmare feeling mousetrapped, desperate. My parents were ready with a warm quilt, my grandma ready with her soothing tide of words.

But it wasn’t working. It wasn’t making the Fear Maker go away. I was nine, and it was June, and I was forced to take drastic measures. As drastic as trying to confront the Fear Maker in person. In the woods. Maybe then he’d take me seriously.

I put on my tennis shoes and my favorite yellow socks. I put on my jeans with the sparkly buttons. When I told my mom I was going exploring, she hesitated for a second. On one page of her face I read surprise—I hadn’t wanted to go out on my own in a long, long time. On the other page I read a line or two of relief, and the thought that maybe, just maybe, my asking to do something a little brave meant that things were getting better. That I was getting better.

I couldn’t tell her it was the opposite.

Okay, she said. But as soon as the sun starts setting, you need to be back here.

I told her I’d be back long before that. No way was I going to be out there in the dark.

A quick peanut butter and honey sandwich for lunch, then I stepped out into our backyard, the screen door clapping shut behind me. I felt like Gretel going into the witch’s lair without Hansel, and I convinced myself that the trick was to not think too hard about it, but to jump in before I could chicken out. So I hurried down our back steps and across the lawn and through the gate to where the trees began.

I followed what I’d seen in my nightmares. I startled a bushy-tailed little squirrel that scolded me as I hurried past. I kept careful bearings so I could find my way home again, but I walked fast. Just get this over with, I thought.

The thicker and creepier the woods got, the more familiar they seemed. I’d seen the path to the Fear Maker’s house many times in my nightmares, and I knew I was getting close. I squeezed between trees growing closer and closer together. I barreled on, trying to ignore the warning siren thoughts getting louder and louder in my head. I stopped only to dislodge a twig that got tangled in my shoelaces.

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