George and the Dragon

George and the Dragon

“I wouldn’t go down there if I were you.” George pulled me back from the stairs.

I step forward again, look down into the dark space that is Grandpa’s basement.

“Why not?”

“It’s creepy down there.”

“Oh, you’re just a scaredy cat. I’m going down.” I took a few steps.

“Janie, I’ll tell mom.”

“Go ahead. I’ll tell her you took the last of the cookies.”

I went down the steps with George following. It was dark and smelly, noisy and wet.

“This place is haunted,” whispered George.

We tiptoed into a side room. This room more dark than the other, smelling especially black, if black could have a smell.

I could see a door, over by a big something in the middle of the room. George hung on to my shirt.

Suddenly that big something started belching, burping, shooting fire out. George hollered loud, ran back up the steps.

I looked around, opened that door to find a coal chute. It was half full of coal. Then I went back up stairs to rescue George.

“What in tarnation were you screaming about?”

“I told you that place was haunted!”

“The cellar? It’s not haunted.”

“The dragon came alive. It was going to eat me!”

“For goodness sake, that’s just the coal furnace firing up.”

W/C 215