Free Crooked Hills by Cullen Bunn Page A

twitched like the hair on a tarantula’s legs, and the moon’s blue light illuminated the passage, even though no windows were nearby.
    I tapped lightly on the door to Marty’s bedroom.
    “Marty! Wake up! Something’s wrong outside.”
    He didn’t answer. I tried the door knob, but it wouldn’t turn. The door was locked. I pressed my ear up against the wood and listened. I couldn’t hear a thing.
    The awful goat cries from outside grew louder. Forgetting about Marty’s help, I rushed down the hall and out the back door. My shadow, black as midnight and twisted horribly, chased after me.
    Wind buffeted me as I stepped outside. Bits of dirt flew in my face, stinging my skin, and I held my hand up to shield my eyes. Clouds of fog drifted across the yard, swirling, taking spectral shapes. In the distance, dark clouds covered the sky, and lightning streaked down to the earth, chased by a peal of thunder. The moon was blanketed by the clouds, and only a few feeble rays of light stretched down to the yard. A storm was brewing, but it wasn’t raining yet.
    Another jagged bolt of lightning lit the sky, and in the flash I could see the animal pens. The goats stood at the edge of the fence, their hourglass-shaped eyes reflective in the sudden flashes of light. They stuck their heads out and cried, their tongues wagging in their mouths.
    “B-baaaaa-aa!”
    Behind the goats, chickens dashed back and forth in a nervous frenzy. They were supposed to be locked in the henhouse during the night, but someone had obviously let them out. The door to the chicken coop slammed open and closed, the hinges shrieking, the door battered against the frame by the wind.
    I didn’t see any sign of my brother.
    I rushed to the animal pens and started to undo the gate. I planned on herding the chickens back into the coop before the storm swept across the yard. But as I approached the gate, I noticed something ghastly.
    None of the chickens had heads!
    They ran back and forth, their wings flapping, like they had just gotten the axe. But they never flopped over and lay dead on the ground. And somehow they made a wet cackling sound, even though they had no mouths!
    I stumbled away from the gate.
    No way was I going in there with a flock of undead chickens!
    Lightning jumped across the sky, closer now, and I saw something out of the corner of my eye. I turned around, and saw an old woman scuttling across the yard. She wore a filthy robe that flapped behind her like bat wings. Her hair was white and stringy, falling into her eyes like a cobweb mask. She carried a baby goat under one arm—and my brother under the other!
    “Alex!”
    Before I took a step, a mangy yellow dog jumped out of the darkness to block my path. It snarled and barked, drool dripping from its jaws.
    Its eyes looked like the eyes of a person.
    The old woman leaped into the air and landed on top of the sagging shed. A ruby red ring gleamed from one of her fingers, like fire blazing through blood-slathered glass. She scrabbled across the top, the sagging roof creaking beneath her feet, then jumped into the air again and vanished into the fog. Alex looked back and reached out for me.
    “Charlieeeeeeeee,” he cried.
    And he was gone.
    The dog jumped on me and clamped its slobbery jaws around my throat.
    I woke up.
    A dream! My heart pounded in my chest, but I breathed a sigh of relief. I didn’t usually have nightmares, but with everything I’d been thinking about lately—unwanted vacations, annoying little brothers, headless chickens, freaky dogs, and hideous witches—it didn’t surprise me much.
    I glanced over at my brother—
    But Alex wasn’t in his bed.

CHAPTER ELEVEN
    THE BRIEF MOMENT OF UNCERTAINTY PASSED. Although Alex was gone, just as he had been in my nightmare, his bed was neat and tidy. Instead of the ghastly glow of the moon, bright light streamed through the window. I squinted and rubbed my eyes. I looked at the clock and gaped in surprise at the time. 11:00! I