He let out a loud whoop and began dancing around the living room. I’ll never forget the look on Dad’s face when he got the letter from the lawyer. A great-uncle of Dad’s, a man we didn’t even know, had died and left the house to Dad in his will. After all, the house was absolutely free. I knew this was one time Josh wouldn’t get his way. Josh had grabbed Dad’s hand and was trying to pull him back to the car. Probably because I’m older and because I’m a girl. We may look alike, but we’re really not that similar. Whenever he makes a big fuss about something, he usually gets his way. And when he makes up his mind about something, that’s it. My brother is the most impatient kid in the world.

“I really want to go home,” Josh said, his voice cracking. Josh and I are both tall and thin and have curly brown hair like Dad’s and dark brown eyes. I couldn’t decide if that was a compliment or not. Dawes asked Mom, stepping onto the front porch. Maybe it’ll be warmer in the house, I thought. I was wearing white tennis shorts and a sleeveless blue T-shirt. I guessed it was because of all the tall old trees. But the closer we got to the house, the colder I felt. It was actually a beautiful, hot summer day.

You’d like that - wouldn’t you, Amanda?” I shrugged. “We’ll have room for a den and maybe a rec room, too. “Look how big it is,” Mom added, smoothing back her straight black hair and smiling at Josh. “No one has lived in it for a while, so it’ll take some fixing up.” “It just needs some work, Josh,” Dad said, smiling at Mr. “It’s an old house, that’s for sure,” he said, patting Josh on the shoulder. “Strange is right,” Josh said, shaking his head. Dawes, her hands shoved into her jeans pockets as she continued up to the front door. “It’s hard for kids,” my mother added, smiling at Mr. Dad is a little overweight, and his shirts always seem to be coming untucked. “Josh and Amanda aren’t happy about moving,” Dad explained, tucking his shirttail in. “Everything okay?” he asked, staring first at Josh, then at me, with his crinkly blue eyes. Dawes, the friendly young man from the local real estate office, stopped near the front walk and turned around. Looking up at the old house, we both groaned loudly. Josh must have been thinking the same thing. This house is creepy, I thought unhappily. Thick clumps of weeds had completely overgrown an old flower bed beside the front porch. Tall weeds poked up everywhere through the dead leaves. Our sneakers crunched over them as we trudged up the gravel driveway. It was the middle of July, but dead brown leaves blanketed the front yard. The whole house was covered in darkness, as if it were hiding in the shadows of the gnarled old trees that bent over it. It’s so dark, I thought, studying it from the street. It was a tall redbrick house with a sloping black roof and rows of windows framed by black shutters. It looked like a mansion compared to our old house.

Welcome to dead house by rl stine