The House on O’Reilly Hill - 1. Chapter 1

Eleven-year-old Denny Larson sat in Mr. McMillan’s sixth grade English classroom looking out the window at the old Victorian farmhouse up on O’Reilly Hill. It was Halloween and he was devising his strategy for amassing the most candy of all the kids who were going out for the first time by their selves. The farmhouse was an enigma in all of Morton Bay. Some said it was haunted, but Denny knew old man Snell still lived in the house because almost every year a few brave kids went up there and were rewarded with almost more candy than their bags could hold. The only problem Denny could see was that no one had been brave enough to go up there for three years, so he didn’t know what to expect tonight.

“Denny! What are you looking at?” Ms. Pendergrast called out.

“Oh, sorry, what was the question?” Denny said expecting it to be a question as it always was a question.

“We are discussing ‘The Graveyard Book,’ of which you were supposed to have read the third chapter. Did you or not?”

“Yes, I read it, but it was hard to understand.” Books were always hard to understand when you had dyslexia and all the letters and words jumbled themselves together.

“Good, at least you tried.”

“Marianne, what was your impression of the Witch’s Headstone?”

“Well …”

“A deep hole in the ground.”

“Yes, Ms. Pendergrast, but to tell the truth I spent most of the afternoon and evening making my Halloween costume. I’m going out as a fairy princess with lace wings my Gran made for me.”

“Halloween! I suppose that’s what all of you have been thinking of for the past week. That was the purpose of reading this book being that it’s about ghosts and such. Okay everyone open your books and read chapter three from where you left off last.”

Denny opened his book to the start of chapter three, but his mind immediately went back to old man Snell in his old house up on O’Reilly Hill. There was only one thing he could do and that was to go up and knock on old man Snell’s door. “Trick or treat, sir,” and that would be that. The bell sounded the end of the period, but Denny’s eyes were locked on that old house on top of that hill.

“Denny Marsden!”

“Huh? What?”

“Class is over and come here,” Ms. Pendergrast said.

Denny put his book back in his bag and slowly walked up to the teacher’s desk. She knew he was dyslexic and supposedly tried to make allowances for his poor reading skills, but sometimes he wondered how earnest she was.

“Here is a note for your mother or father stating what tonight’s homework is,” Ms. Pendergrast said as she handed him the folded paper. “There is a place for a signature attesting to the fact you did your homework.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” Denny said dejectedly. “But, it’s Halloween.”

“I’m sure you can find time if you work at it.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

* * *

Denny, dressed like a pirate, started out the evening with Mark, Jimmy, Sarah, and McKenzie. Of course, as usual he was the odd boy of the group, but he got along with the other boys and their girlfriends so he didn’t worry about not fitting in. Sometimes, though, they kidded him for not pursuing a member of the opposite sex, but he just wasn’t interested in girls, yet. As a full moon slowly began to rise above the distant tree lined horizon, they went through the town collecting what candy they could because some homes wouldn’t give them anything saying they were too old to participate in the Halloween festivities. Finally, they came to the driveway gate for the house on O’Reilly Hill. Denny stopped and looked up the lane at the house with its dim porchlight on.

“Come on, Denny, don’t tell me you’re thinking of going up there,” Mark said.

“Yeah, Denny, I heard old man Snell died last year,” Sarah said. “You can’t think of going up there.”

“No, I’m going,” Denny said. “There has to be someone up there. They left the porchlight on. Anybody want to go with me?”

“No way, man, we’re not going anywhere near that place,” Jimmy said. “Are we, guys?”

“No,” the other four said.

“Have it your way,” Denny said. He pushed open the creaking gate enough to slip inside. Surprisingly, it slowly shut with a loud click when he let go. He turned and began to walk up the lane. A soundless object, maybe an owl, flew over his head and then circled back pulling at his pirate’s hat. He grabbed it and firmly put it back on his head. He resumed his walk, but after a few minutes something else knocked his hat off his head. He felt around in the dim light of the moon until he found it and put it back on. He looked up, but he couldn’t see the porch light. Maybe, it had gone out. Or, possibly the lane had gone around behind the house. He walked on with that supposition.

In time, the lane came around to where he could see the porchlight again. In the moonlight filtering through the bare limbs of the huge maples around the house, Denny found the stone walk up to the front porch. There was no getting out of this now. His friends would surely mock him if he chickened out and ran back to the gate. Something swooped down and knocked his hat off, again. He found it in the dim light and put it on his head.

He walked up the path and up the front steps to the broad porch. The light turned out to be like the ceiling light in his bedroom. It lit up most of the porch, but why the light didn’t extend down the hill was mystery. There wasn’t a button for the doorbell, but there was a door knocker in the shape of a skull with red crystal eyes that flickered from the porchlight. Denny lifted it and allowed it to fall back against the metal plate causing a dull clang to fill his ears.

After a short while, the door creaked open revealing a bent over old man with boney hands and long yellow nails. His jumbled white hair hung past his shoulders and his straggly white moustache and beard were stained around his mouth. He smiled showing only a few broken teeth.

“Well?” old man Snell hissed.

“Uh, trick or, uh, treat, sir,” Denny sputtered.

“Ah yes, the night when delicious little children seek sweet yummies to make their young tummies ache. Tricks or treats is it, my little pirate? Well, do you know any tricks or what do you have in your bag that an old man might want as a treat?”

“I, I,” Denny sputtered.

“Come in, dear child, let me see your tricks.”

The old man’s hand reached out, grabbed Denny’s shoulder, and pulled him into the room. The door slammed shut as if of its own accord. Frozen in terror, Denny didn’t know what was going to happen.

“Do you somersault, dear child?” old man Snell hissed.

“What?”

“No, maybe not; take off your hat so that it doesn’t get crushed and give me your candy bag so it doesn’t spill.”

“What are you going to do?” Denny whined.

“A somersault! A somersault! For a handful of candy!”

With that Denny felt his head falling toward the floor, but somehow it tucked in and his legs and feet followed along behind until he spun in the air and was suddenly standing, again.

“Very good! Very good! The pirate did a somersault,” the old man cackled. “What now my dear little boy? A backflip! Yes! A backflip!”

Suddenly, Denny’s feet came up over his head pulling his body around until he was standing as before. He looked at the old man shoveling candy into his mouth as sweet slobber ran out of his mouth. Where was his hat?

“A pirouette! Yes, a spinning pirouette!” the old man cackled.

With that Denny’s right knee bent and he rose onto the toe of his left shoe. Suddenly, he was spinning uncontrollably. Then he began to rise up from the floor until he could almost reach up and touch the ceiling. He kept spinning and spinning while the old man continued to shove Denny’s candy into his mouth.

“No! Stop!” Denny cried out, but he continued to spin far above the floor.

“Denny?” a voice broke into what was happening to him in the old house.

“Denny, wake up, son,” he heard his mother say.

“Huh, what? Oh, it was horrible. Old man Snell was so horrible,” Denny cried as he tried to rub the sleep out of his eyes.

“You’d better come down to dinner or you won’t have time to put on your costume. And, what’s this about old Arnold Snell? He’s been dead for nearly three years, now.”

“But, the house? The porchlight was on.”

“His grandson is restoring it and will be turning it into a bed and breakfast. Did you finish your homework?”

“Most of it. My math.”

“Did you have a reading assignment?”

“Well, yes,” he said as he pulled Ms. Pendergrast’s note out of his bookbag.

“I see, well, maybe you need to stay in tonight and do this reading.”

“Ah, Mom, it’s Halloween.”

“And, you’re not a little boy anymore. Maybe, it’s time for you to grow up a little.”

“Oh, phooey!”