his grandpa around to the kitchen door at the back. As long as he had been coming to visit his grandpa, they had never used the front door. No one ever did.
Beside the back door was a water pump with a horse head carved out of the top. Jake ran his hand over the smooth old wood of the horseâs head. It was hand-made by a soldier who was going off to the First World War. It was an interesting water pump, definitely one of a kind.
Jake walked past the horse-head pump, then past the barn that held Maggie, the real horse. She wasnât for riding anymore, but you could hook her up to a little cart, and sheâd pull you to town to get ice cream.
Behind the house was a giant field with nothing growing in it except grass for the neighbourâs cows. It smelled sweet, though.
Jake clomped upstairs to his room at the top of the house and dropped his backpack on the lumpy old bed. His grandpa had opened the window to air out the room. A night-time breeze that smelled like grass and sunshine blew the curtains a little. He walked over to shut the window. The swamp was back there, way back in the woods. Jake suddenly felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up.
No. Donât think about the swamp!
He forced himself to look down at Gus digging in the dirt instead. The kitchen light shone on him, and Jake could see the hound sniffing at something. Then the dog threw back his head and howled.
Crazy dog. What could be so interesting in the dirt?
Jake looked closer. Gus was eating something. It looked like a ⦠fly? But no fly could be that big. It was the size of a bat. And it was buzzing .
Gus chomped whatever it was in half then ate it in two gulps. Gone. Then he looked up at Jake in the window and wagged his tail. He licked his paws with the tongue-of-death.
Jake yelled out the window at the old dog. âThatâs disgusting! Your name is in the word disgusting, did you know that? Dis-GUS-ting. Thatâs what you are!â
A huge fly buzzed in through the window and right into Jakeâs face. Its enormous wings brushed his mouth.
âEW! Gross!â Jake swatted the big fly away. It smashed into the window then buzzed lazily back outside. It was the biggest fly he had ever seen.
Weirdly big.
Jake said goodnight to his grandpa, brushed his teeth, and got into his pyjamas. But not before he made sure the window was closed and latched. He took a quick look out at the darkness ⦠swamp! ⦠and drew the curtains, too.
Chapter 2
Cold Rooms
T he next morning Jake unpacked, then took the curving wooden stairs down to the kitchen two at a time.
His grandpa was staring at the window. A big fly buzzed against the glass. Sure were a lot more flies around here than Jake remembered. Big, gross flies.
âCan I go see my friends now, Grandpa?â
âSure,â his grandpa said. âBut weâre having spaghetti for lunch. Please go down to the basement and grab me a can of sauce before you go. First cold room on the left. Tomorrow itâs your turn to cook.â
âYeah, sure, hot dogs tomorrow!â Jake said. Whenever he came to visit, they took turns cooking. One day it was Grandpaâs turn to cook, the next day it was Jakeâs turn. Luckily his grandpa wasnât a fussy eater, because they ate a lot of hot dogs when Jake was around. It was basically the only thing he knew how to cook.
That and toast.
Jake started down the steep wooden stairs in the dark, gripping the handrail. The light switch was at the bottom of the stairs. Electricity was added long after the farmhouse was built, and thatâs where the switch ended up. His grandpa never changed it, even though he probably should have. It wasnât exactly safe going down those steep, slippery old stairs in the dark.
Once upon a time, you would have had to go into the farmhouse basement by candlelight.
The thought made Jakeâs neck prickle. The basement was pitch black and smelled like musty, spidery
Beside the back door was a water pump with a horse head carved out of the top. Jake ran his hand over the smooth old wood of the horseâs head. It was hand-made by a soldier who was going off to the First World War. It was an interesting water pump, definitely one of a kind.
Jake walked past the horse-head pump, then past the barn that held Maggie, the real horse. She wasnât for riding anymore, but you could hook her up to a little cart, and sheâd pull you to town to get ice cream.
Behind the house was a giant field with nothing growing in it except grass for the neighbourâs cows. It smelled sweet, though.
Jake clomped upstairs to his room at the top of the house and dropped his backpack on the lumpy old bed. His grandpa had opened the window to air out the room. A night-time breeze that smelled like grass and sunshine blew the curtains a little. He walked over to shut the window. The swamp was back there, way back in the woods. Jake suddenly felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up.
No. Donât think about the swamp!
He forced himself to look down at Gus digging in the dirt instead. The kitchen light shone on him, and Jake could see the hound sniffing at something. Then the dog threw back his head and howled.
Crazy dog. What could be so interesting in the dirt?
Jake looked closer. Gus was eating something. It looked like a ⦠fly? But no fly could be that big. It was the size of a bat. And it was buzzing .
Gus chomped whatever it was in half then ate it in two gulps. Gone. Then he looked up at Jake in the window and wagged his tail. He licked his paws with the tongue-of-death.
Jake yelled out the window at the old dog. âThatâs disgusting! Your name is in the word disgusting, did you know that? Dis-GUS-ting. Thatâs what you are!â
A huge fly buzzed in through the window and right into Jakeâs face. Its enormous wings brushed his mouth.
âEW! Gross!â Jake swatted the big fly away. It smashed into the window then buzzed lazily back outside. It was the biggest fly he had ever seen.
Weirdly big.
Jake said goodnight to his grandpa, brushed his teeth, and got into his pyjamas. But not before he made sure the window was closed and latched. He took a quick look out at the darkness ⦠swamp! ⦠and drew the curtains, too.
Chapter 2
Cold Rooms
T he next morning Jake unpacked, then took the curving wooden stairs down to the kitchen two at a time.
His grandpa was staring at the window. A big fly buzzed against the glass. Sure were a lot more flies around here than Jake remembered. Big, gross flies.
âCan I go see my friends now, Grandpa?â
âSure,â his grandpa said. âBut weâre having spaghetti for lunch. Please go down to the basement and grab me a can of sauce before you go. First cold room on the left. Tomorrow itâs your turn to cook.â
âYeah, sure, hot dogs tomorrow!â Jake said. Whenever he came to visit, they took turns cooking. One day it was Grandpaâs turn to cook, the next day it was Jakeâs turn. Luckily his grandpa wasnât a fussy eater, because they ate a lot of hot dogs when Jake was around. It was basically the only thing he knew how to cook.
That and toast.
Jake started down the steep wooden stairs in the dark, gripping the handrail. The light switch was at the bottom of the stairs. Electricity was added long after the farmhouse was built, and thatâs where the switch ended up. His grandpa never changed it, even though he probably should have. It wasnât exactly safe going down those steep, slippery old stairs in the dark.
Once upon a time, you would have had to go into the farmhouse basement by candlelight.
The thought made Jakeâs neck prickle. The basement was pitch black and smelled like musty, spidery
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