Why I Don't Sleep On Feather Beds: FRIGHTLAND, #2

By R. H. Grimly

Gavin and his sister Torrie aren't thrilled to be staying at Great Aunt Ethel's farm. It's in the middle of nowhere, Aunt Ethel is a little weird, and Gavin is forced to sleep on an old, lumpy feather bed.  Then Gavin discovers something worse: the lumps are moving. Torrie thinks he's just crazy—there's no way something's alive inside the mattress—until the lumps begin to hatch…

• Language: English
• Publisher: Barde Press
• Release date: Jan 25, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201794767

Book preview

Why I Don’t Sleep On Feather Beds

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FRIGHTLAND #2

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by R.H. Grimly

Copyright © 2021 R.H. Grimly

Published by Barde Press

All rights reserved

Cover art by Flavio Greco Paglia

Interior illustrations by Daniel Brown

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For Adam

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Table of Contents

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Illustration by Daniel Brown

1

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!

2

I stood staring at the dark house in stunned silence. That couldn’t have been Great Aunt Ethel! My parents wouldn’t leave us with a crazy old lady... would they?

Just as I felt the sinking pit in my stomach growing bigger, I heard what sounded like the rattle of a chain lock from inside. It shook a few times, like someone was fiddling with it, then suddenly the old woman pulled the giant door wide open, and greeted us with a big, wrinkled