Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 45319 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 227(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45319 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 227(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
The scene outside was idyllic, if a little wild. There was an overgrown lawn which led up to a tall evergreen hedge that seemed to run the entire length of the property. Growing right up against the hedge was a tree whose branches seemed to droop over to the other side…wait a minute.
My heart seemed to stop in my chest. I knew where I was now. That tree and that hedge were familiar. It was the same hedge I walked beside every day when I took the path behind my house. And the tree was the Golden-Skinned Warbler pear tree—in fact, it still had fruit on it! Could it be that this side of the tree kept its fruit even though I had picked all the pears from the other side? Was it some kind of magical boundary thing?
But I didn’t have long to think about that because it was becoming clear where I was. I was inside the haunted mansion—inside Goremouth’s house! I wasn’t safe at all—I had walked right into my enemy’s lair.
“Oh my God!” I whispered, feeling sick.
Suddenly the giant kitchen seemed to give off a much more ominous vibe. The boiling water in the bathtub-sized pot…the enormous cutting board…the machete-sized knife—were they all meant for me?
They must be and here I was standing around like an idiot instead of trying to get out! Scrambling down off the chair so fast I nearly fell in my haste, I hurried to the far side of the kitchen to see if I could get out the back door.
But when I reached it, my heart dropped. The knob was so high off the ground I couldn’t reach it!
I jumped up, trying to catch hold of it—it was as big as a volleyball but I thought if I could just get my hands on either side of it and twist…
And then a low, grating voice spoke behind me.
“Forget it, girly—it’s too late. Now you’ll go on Goremouth’s plate.”
Turning, I saw the Ogre standing there with a hungry, leering grin on his ugly face.
Trapped—I was trapped again and this time there was no way out!
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“Stay away from me—leave me alone!” I backed slowly away, only to find that I was standing in a corner. I wanted to dodge away—maybe run to a different part of the house—but the Ogre was suddenly there, right in front of me. Moving more quickly than I would have believed possible, he reached out and grabbed me by my upper arm.
“Now I have you, girly-mine. Almost time to wine and dine,” he snarled, grinning at me.
“No! Let me go!” I threw myself backwards, doing my best to get away from the stinking monster. I nearly dislocated my shoulder but it was all in vain, Goremouth only tightened his grip on my arm and dragged me closer.
He was still wearing his court clothes—dirty brown trousers and the long green necktie which looked ridiculous around his thick neck. His scent was all around me—unwashed flesh and rotten garbage—it made me want to puke!
“Come with me and we will see, how nice and fresh your tasty flesh,” he grated and began dragging me towards the cutting board and the stove.
“No! No!” I shrieked. “Help! Help me!”
But there was no one there to help—just me all alone in a monster’s kitchen about to become the Ogre’s supper. Desperately, I looked for anything at all I could do to stop him—anything to help me get the upper hand.
My eyes fell again on his dangling, lime-green necktie. Leaning forward on impulse, I grabbed it with my free hand and yanked hard to one side.
As I had hoped, this tightened the loop of the tie around Goremouth’s thick neck. I pulled as hard as I could and was rewarded with a choking sound. The Ogre’s face turned red and he grabbed for the tie.
“Nasty bitch, you little witch!” he wheezed.
For a moment I thought I really had him—and I might have if I could have pulled with both hands. Unfortunately, I wasn’t strong enough to actually strangle him one-handed. The minute he grabbed for the tie, he was able to pull it out of my grip. Then he loosened it with his free hand and glared down at me.
“That’s not nice—you go on ice!” he declared. “But first a chop to make you hop!”
Reaching for me with both hands, he swung me with dizzying speed up to the chopping board that was sitting on the counter.
He was just reaching for the machete-sized knife when a deep, familiar voice spoke behind him.
“How many times do I have to tell you to leave my woman alone?”
“What?” Goremouth spun around, taking both hands off me in his haste to see who was in his kitchen. As he moved out of the way, I saw a familiar face and felt a wave of relief.