Read Online The Tilting House by Tom Llewellyn - Free Book Online Page B

was smothered in thick emerald moss. Everything. There were no bare patches and no other plants—only moss. The moss grew about twenty feet up the trees. It grew over every bump on the ground, large or small. It was so green that I kind of wanted to take a bite to see what it tasted like.
    “
This
is where we are camping tonight,” said Dad.
    At that moment, I was glad we’d left the trail. As I stared at this untouched morsel of the world, all the scratches on my arms from plowing through the brush didn’t matter.
    When we stepped into the clearing, the spongy moss felt like pillows under our feet. Dad and Aaron dropped their packs and Dad began to unroll our tent. I hesitated before taking off my own pack. The Mossy Spot seemed like the kind of place you should look at and maybe photograph, then leave without making a single mark. But Dad seemed determined to camp there.
    He handed me the hatchet and I began pounding the tent stakes through the previously unscarred moss. When the firststake went in, I flinched a little. Or maybe it was the ground that flinched. It felt like I was poking a pin into flesh.
    By the time we had the tent raised and our sleeping bags rolled out, it was growing dark. Dad fired up the camp stove and boiled some water. I noticed that we were all trying not to make a sound. Our voices felt too much like an intrusion. So we sat inside the tent and ate warm noodles in silence. As soon as the sun went down, the Mossy Spot turned chilly, so we climbed inside our sleeping bags. The moss felt like a thick feather bed beneath us. For some reason it made me wonder if flies felt this comfortable when they first landed on a spiderweb.
    “Hey, Dad. Tell us a scary story,” said Aaron. “Tell us ‘The Golden Arm.’ ”
    “Not gonna happen,” said Dad. “Last time I told that story, you had nightmares for a week and I got in serious Dutch with your mother.”
    “Besides, this place is scary enough as it is,” I said.
    Aaron sighed, then pulled out a book from his pack and began to read. Dad and I did the same, reading in the lantern light on the soft moss, in the warmth of our sleeping bags. Aaron and I exchanged glances. We knew it wouldn’t take long for Dad to nod off, and then we’d have our chance to try out the grow powder on the key. Soon he closed his book and turned on his side. In less then ten minutes, Dad was snoring softly.
    Aaron whispered, “Get the box.”
    I dug it out of my pack with a grunt.
    “Let’s go outside so we don’t spill any on the tent,” I said.
    “Or on Dad,” said Aaron ominously.
    Dad snored on, unaware that a little carelessness from us might turn him into a giant.
    Aaron picked up the lantern. We quietly unzipped the tent flap and climbed outside. The lantern light only carried a few feet into the darkness. I held the metal box as Aaron set the lantern on the ground and cautiously opened the top drawer. He took out the envelope and key and held them carefully in his hands. “You want to do it?”
    “Only if you want me to.”
    “I want you to.” His hands were shaking. I tried to steady my own hands as I handed Aaron the box and took the envelope and the key. I reached into my pocket and pulled out the tiny pocketknife.
    “Is that Dad’s?” Aaron asked.
    “No. I found it in the attic.” I opened the blade and used it to peel back the flap. A teaspoon of tan powder lay inside the envelope.
    “It looks like sawdust,” I said.
    “What now?” Aaron asked.
    I thought for a moment, then slid the tiny knife blade through the key’s handle. I dipped the key and knife into the envelope, saying, “This way, we won’t spill any.”
    But as soon as they touched the powder, both the key and the knife grew five times their size. I was so startled that I dropped the key and the envelope. “Get back!” I yelled. “Whatever you do, don’t get any of that powder on you!”
    The key lay on the moss. It looked like it had grown to the perfect size for