The Ghost of Oak Read Free Page A

skills. Katie beamed.
           Before covering it with plastic wrap, she took a
good look at the salad that she had just made. Her mother hadn't
just been trying to make her feel good. The salad really did look
delicious. Since the salad was done, Katie helped her mother in
attending to the other courses of the meal. She helped her mother
marinate and season the chicken, whir up several side dishes, and
best of all: help make their special homemade brownies for dessert.
Just as they finished preparing the meal and setting the table,
(including the plates of food as well as the drinks) Mr. Smith
walked through the door. He seemed quite pleased with the aroma of
the meal, and took his place at the kitchen table. His wife and
daughter joined him in their usual seats. And they happily ate
their meal. They spoke very vaguely, for they believed that it was
best to keep quiet during meals, particularly the evening meal.
However the cooks didn't need Mr. Smith to tell them that he
enjoyed the meal for them to believe it. It was written all over
his face.
    When they were done with the meal,
they stacked their plates into the dishwasher, and headed for the
living room.  Mr. Smith channel-surfed the television, while
Katie and her mother made popcorn. By the time it was done, Mr.
Smith had found a good family movie, and they watched it together,
until it was time to sleep. Then, they kindly asked their daughter
to go to bed, for it was nine o' clock, and they would be going to
sleep soon as well. Grumpily, Katie left her parents and the movie
behind, and headed for her room.
     
  Chapter
Three
    That night, when her parents had
long since gone to sleep, Katie lay awake in her bed. Not even a
common owl or cricket made its sound. It was really a calm and
peaceful night, but something about the tranquility made her feel
perturbed, as it always did. Katie tossed and turned restlessly,
with much endeavor to fall asleep, but something just didn't feel
right. Since she'd stayed up late that night after all, she did
start to become lethargic, and almost dozed off.
            But all of a sudden, an awful scratching noise disconcerted
her. She sat up in bed, petrified. Beads of sweat poured down her
face, and her heart raced. She wailed only softly, so her mother
never came to comfort her and tell her that everything was all
right. The dreadful sound continued, and her sobs grew louder, but
her mother still didn't hear her. She tried to scream, but nothing
came out. Then, she grabbed a tissue and wiped away her tears.
"It's only my imagination." She told herself.
           She refused to go crazy over a little noise. It
was probably just a stray cat or dog who was pawing at the front
door, looking for a home. If that was the case, then it would just
move on to another door after a while. And she was right. A few
minutes later, the scratching stopped, and Katie was able to drift
off to sleep.
           Before Katie knew it, it was 6:30 am, and pop
music drifted from her alarm clock, waking her up. She could smell
pancakes, maple syrup, eggs, and bacon coming from the kitchen. Her
mouth watered with pure delight. She loved it when her mother made
a home-style breakfast. However, it was odd, as her mother usually
only made a fancy breakfast on Sundays, and it was a Saturday
morning. Katie didn't care. She just couldn't wait to eat the meal.
She ran down the stairs and into the kitchen, forgetting to put on
her slippers. To her satisfaction, there was already a place on the
table for her.
           She looked at the breakfast. At her usual seat
there was a large plate with a sunny-side-up egg and a piece of
buttered toast, as well as a strip of bacon, and an over sized
squirt of ketchup. To the right of that plate, was a much smaller
one. On it was a stack of three buttermilk pancakes, topped with a
pat of butter and a sticky stream of maple syrup. To the right of
that, a folded napkin sat under the necessary utensils. To the