The Swallow Read Free Page A

up and miserable, like a wet bird with all its feathers fluffed up. I could hear the family carrying on as usual downstairs, just as if nothing had happened and I didn’t exist. Just like normal. Finally I curled up and went to sleep.
    Rose
    My head was pounding. I had this weird floating feeling, like I was up above everything, looking down. Everything bleached out and turned white, and I couldn’t tell who were the ghosts and who was alive.
    The old lady came back and sat in the corner, knitting. I hadn’t seen her since I was little.
    The doctor had big bristly eyebrows and a huge mustache, and after a while he started looking just like a wolf, and he kept leaning over me and staring at me with his wild wolf eyes. I’m pretty sure I had been talking about the ghosts because I heard him say, “She’s hallucinating.”
    Mother’s face swam into view. She was crying. “My baby,” she choked, “my baby.”
    “She’ll be fine,” said my father. He looked scared. Behind him the ghosts from the cemetery started streaming into the room, plucking at my sheets and my nightgown.
    “ GET AWAY FROM ME !” I screamed.
    “We’ll just get her to the hospital and see what we can do,” said the Wolf Doctor.
    “Such a lovely baby,” said the knitting lady, rocking in her chair.
    “My poor baby,” said my mother, laying her cool hand on my hot forehead.

COLD
    Polly
    When I woke up it was even colder and really dark. I could hear the Horrors calling out to me. They were right inside my closet, at the bottom of the ladder.
    “Polly wants a cracker, Polly wants a cracker,” sang out Mark.
    “We know you’re up there, Polly-bird,” sang out Matthew. “We’re coming!”
    “Matthew! Mark!” called my mother from downstairs.
    They started to whisper.
    “Come down here right now! I have a job for you,” shouted Mum.
    More whispering.
    “Don’t you worry, Polly-bird,” said Matthew. “We’ll be back!” They clattered off downstairs.
    I had to do something. I just couldn’t stand it anymore. I had to get away from them, somewhere they’d never find me.
    In the ceiling of the loft there was a little trapdoor that led to the attic. Dad made me promise I’d never go up there because it wasn’t safe. But I was so mad at him I didn’t care about mypromise. I heaved myself up against the trapdoor and pushed it open. I grabbed my book, a blanket and my flashlight, then hoisted myself into the attic and pulled the trapdoor shut.
    The attic was cold and black as black could be. It smelled musty and forgotten. My flashlight cast a faint yellow light. I’d asked Mum for new batteries weeks ago but she was always forgetting stuff like that. I crawled into a corner by the wall and wrapped the blanket around me.
    Dad had said the floor wasn’t properly finished and would collapse if I walked on it. He said there were mice. But I didn’t see any mouse poop and I didn’t hear any scurrying. I didn’t hear much of anything—no voices, no footsteps, no people. All the sounds of the house and the city were reduced to a faint murmur, far away, like the sea. It was very, very quiet.
    As quiet as the grave, I thought, and then I sat up a little straighter. Maybe the attic was haunted! I closed my eyes to see if I could sense any ghostly presence.
    But there was nothing there, just silence.
    Rose
    When I woke up in the hospital I was cold. I suppose I had kicked off my covers. I was shivering. There was no one there. No old lady, no mother, no father, no doctor. No ghosts. I pulled up the blankets and huddled under them, trying to get warm. I could see trees outside the window.
    For a long time I drifted in and out of sleep, watching the leaves sparkle in the sunshine, happy to be alive, happy not to be haunted, even for a little while.
    It did seem strange that I should feel so ghost-free in a hospital room. You would think hospitals would be full of ghosts. But when they finally let me go home, there were no ghosts there