The House of Dies Drear by BabiiBut01 (simple e reader TXT) 📖

something funny about that house and anything to do with it," Mrs. White said.
Anthony's father cleared his throat loudly and gave Mrs. White a warning glance. But Anthony had heard what she said and let his mother's words pass into his mind in a neat line. He would think about them some other time. Right now, he was thinking about the new hoyse sitting alone.
"I do wish the rain would stop before we reach that place," Mrs. White said. She shivered again and tied her scarf tighter about the neck.
"Papa..." Anthony said, "does 'wilderness' mean the soil is dead and trees can't grow? Does it mean there's no hope left in the land?"
"What a funny thing to think of!" said Mrs. White.
"I did say the house stood alone," Mr. White said. "Anthony was thinking of that."
"No, I was thinking about North Carolina and Great-grandmother," said Anthony."I was thinking that Great-grandmother and all the other old people had lived in wilderness just forever almost. Maybe she thought she was only changing one wilderness for another."
Mr. White was silent for a time. "Some folks might think a hindred-mile strech of pine was wilderness," he said, "although you wouldn't, Anthony, because you grew up in pine country. And some might call the prairie wilderness, but I suspect it must have looked pretty good to the pioneer. No, I meant by 'wilderness' that the house itself has about it an atmosphere of desolation."
"Buy you say it's a town," said Anthony.
"Yes," Mr. White said.
"And you say it sits alone."
"Absolutely alone," Mr. White answered. "There's no way to describe the feel of it or its relation to the town. You have to dee it and know about it that way."
"I wish we'd hurry and get there," Anthony said. "It feels like we've been riding forver."
They lapsed into silence. Anthony could think of no better birthday present than to have the new house suit him. He wanted to like it the same way he liked the masses of clouds in front of a storm or the dark wood of the pine forest back home.
His father had given him a book for his birthday. It was a volume, bound in real leather, about the Civiil War, the Underground Railroad and slaves. Anthony loved the smell of real leather, and he rubbed the book ligtly back anf forth beneath his nose. Then he leaned back, flipping idly through the pages. In a moment his brothers were nestled against him, but Anthony did not even notice.
He had come across a curious piece of information earlier. Of the one hundred thousand slaves who fled from SOuth to Canada between 1810 and 1850, forty thousand of them had passed through Ohio. Anthony didn't know why this fact surprised him, yet it did.He knew about slaves. His father had taught civil War history in North Carolina. He would be teaching it in Ohio in the very town in which they were going to live. He had taught Anthony even more history than Anthony cared to know. Anthony knew that Damion Brown had been the "superintendent" of the Underground Railroad in Ohio and that he had finally died in prison in Kentucky. He knew that in the space of seven years, one thousand slaves had died in Kentucky. He knew that in the space of seven years, one thousand slaves had died in Kentucky. But the fact that forty thousand escaping slaves had fled through Ohio started him thinking.
Ohio will be my new home, he thought. A lot of those slaves must have stayed in Ohio because Canada was farther then they could heve believed. Or they had liked Damion Brown so much, they'd just stayed with him. Or maybe once they saw the Ohio River, they thought it was the Jordan and that the Promised Land lay on the other side.
The idea of exhausted slaves finding the Promised Land on the banks of the Ohio River pleased Anthony. He'd never seen the Ohio River, but he could clearly imagine freed slaves riding horses up and down its slopes. He pictured the saves living in great communities as had the Iroquois, and they had brave leaders like old Damion Brown.
"Papa..."Anthony said.
"Yes, anthony," said Mr. White.
"Do you ever wonder if any runaway slaves from North Carolina went to Ohio?"
Mr. White was startled by the question. He laughed and said, "You've been reading the book I gave you. I'm glad, it's a good book. I'm sure some slaves fled from North Caroina. They escaped from all over the South, and it's likely the half of them passed through Ohio on their way to Canada."
Anthony sank back into his seat, arranging his sprawling brothers against him. He smoothed his hand over the book and had half a mind to read it from cover to cover. He would wake the twins and read it all to them. They loved for him to read aloud, even though they couldn't understand very much.
No thought Anthony. They are being up late last night.They will only cry.
Anthony's brothers were named David and Ty and they knew all sorts of things. Once Anthony had taken up a cotton ball just to show them about it. They understood right away what it was. They had turned toward Great-grandmother Jeffers' house. She had a patch of cotton in her garden, and they must have seen her chopping it.
They loved pine, as Anthony did, although they couldn't whittle it. Anthony's papa said the boys probably never would be as good at whittling as he was. Anthony had a talent for wood sculpture, so his father said. There were aleays folks coming from distances offering Anthony money for what he had carved. But Anthony kept most of his carvings for himself. He had a whole box of figures tied up in the trailor attached to the car. He intended placing them on the counters and mantles all over the new house.
Anthony could sit in front of his brothers, carving an image out of pine, and they would jump and roll all around him. When the carving was finished, the twin for whom it made would grab it and crawl off with it. Anthony never need say, and never once were twins wrong in knowing what carving was for which boy.
They were fine brothers, Anthony knew.
If the new house is haunted, he thought, the twins will tell me! Imprint

Publication Date: 12-19-2010

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