The Laughter in the Walls"

her. Her cat, Mr. Whiskers, had died on a Tuesday. She'd lost her job on a Tuesday. And now, as she stared at the cris

hole house. Clara blinked at the words, half-expecting them to vanish like a mirage. She hadn't seen Aunt Margot since she was six, and

shoebox, and her social life consisted of arguing with strangers on the internet about whether pineapple belonge

e to sell or abandon it, the inheritance will be f

e there was a catch. Th

on Hollow

its dark silhouette cutting into the overcast sky. The place looked like it had been designed by someone who thought "haunted" was a decorating style. The windows were crack

iskers II, her new cat (a replacement for the original, because she was terribl

and hovering over the doorknob. "Okay, Clara," she said to herself. "You're a stron

and the door slamm

Vo

the ancient furnace. By the time she gave up and resorted to wearing three sweaters, it was midnight, and the house was eeri

aint, high-pitched giggle. She froze, the glass hovering near her lips. The

her voice trembling

raced as she grabbed a fireplace poker (because every horror movie had taught her that was the weapon of choic

e was nothing there. Just an empty hall

Neig

me light on the house's history-or at least tell her where the nearest coffee shop was. She wal

rs. A man was kneeling in the dirt, his back to her, and as Clara approached, he t

she was still wearing her pajamas. "

s. "Ah, the new owner of the Hollow House

ed. "The Ho

t. "That's what the locals call it.

ind of

e usual. Creepy noises, strange lights, the oc

at him. "Di

Mostly. Anyway, if you need anything, just let me

t sure if h

rst Ni

, cleaner, like it had been frozen in time. A little girl in a white dress skipped down the hallway, he

alls start

in sweat. Mr. Whiskers II was perched on he

he whispered to the cat.

II yawned,

Contin

ow, the laughter in the walls was only the first of many horrors waiting to be uncovered. An