The Monsters Hiding in Your Closet Read online

  Elliot Addison writes books and short stories for children and teens. One of the many professional International Mysterious Persons (or I.M.P.s), Elliot records the stories, both real and imaginary, that happen all around us everyday. Elliot lives somewhere in the world with people who are most likely family but perhaps are not.

  Lana Badousek had lived in many different kinds of places—an old warehouse, a lighthouse, a log house, and a geodesic dome home, but never a mansion, especially not one with thirteen rooms. It was located in the middle of the Piney Woods, choked by overgrown vines and a forest of towering trees. The mansion was something out of a fairy tale, or more like a nightmare. Lana wandered around, wondering how she was going to survive living here for however many months while she and her mom flipped the mansion from rags to riches.

  “Chin up, sweets. This is a true diamond in the rough, and it will be our ticket to greatness,” Mom said, setting down several bags by the front door, careful not to break the coffee pot. Lana only had one suitcase full of clothes, as well as her backpack stuffed with books.

  “Maybe your ticket to greatness, but not mine,” Lana said, her voice nearly vanishing in the mansion’s cavernous entrance. The place was so trashed that she could almost imagine wild beasts lurking in the hallway ahead, ready to pounce. Lana gulped.

  “The place will be feeling homey soon enough,” Mom said.

  Even if the old-fashioned wallpaper hadn’t been slashed and the flooring torn up, Lana doubted the mansion would ever feel homey with its oversized rooms and the long, daunting corridors. “Maybe we could stay at a hotel,” Lana said before coughing.

  The further they explored in the mansion, the harder it became to breathe with the musty odor hanging in the air, almost like a skunk had sprayed inside at some point. Or perhaps a ghost skunk haunted the place. After Mom had purchased it, Lana had heard all kinds of rumors about the mansion being haunted.

  “We’ll be fine,” Mom said after a long pause. Lana wondered if it was because her mother had some doubts, too. “How else am I supposed to be inspired without truly feeling the pulse of the place? Plus, you know the drill by now. We stay where we work to save money.”

  Lana’s throat felt tight, even after she caught her breath from the coughing fit. The thought of so much work ahead was overwhelming, and what would happen if they couldn’t fix the mansion up and re-sell it for a profit?

  Mom was putting all of their savings into investing in this place. Sure, Mom won it at auction for a fraction of the supposed value, and sure, she was an accomplished architect and home designer who was sought after, but this place seemed impossible to fix.

  “You’re lacking vision, sweets,” Mom said, as if reading Lana’s mind. “We’ll bring in some air fresheners, and we’ll pull an architectural Cinderella. You’ll be amazed.”

  Lana sighed and suppressed another cough. Then she crunched on something as she walked into the kitchen. Broken glass. Several of the windows had been shattered. “Diamond in the rough, huh?”

  Mom rolled her eyes, which made Lana feel like she was the mature one on their team of two. Ever since Mom had showed Lana a picture of this place on the Internet, she’d had a weird feeling about it.

  Sometimes, Lana liked how she got a chance to travel across the United States to buy properties with her mom and transform them into something amazing, home- schooling along the way. But more and more, she felt like she was leaving pieces of herself in each house that they flipped. Lana had a feeling there might be nothing left of herself after this project.

  “Are those footprints?” Lana asked as they continued crunching through the shards of glass.

  Mom adjusted her glasses on the bridge of her nose. “Hmm … maybe from the realtor?”

  Lana knelt down to get a closer look. “Maybe if the realtor was barefoot and had monkey toes.” She saw small red spots that appeared to be blood. Someone … or something … had surely cut themselves on the glass.

  “Hmm,” Mom repeated and left it at that.

  That night, Mom and Lana set up camp in one of the enormous living rooms, after clearing out the junk and spraying all kinds of chemicals in the air to make the stench more tolerable until they could find a permanent fix.

  Without proper working heat, the January chill settled in the mansion, and the trash bags they taped over the many broken windows offered no insulation. No matter how many blankets Lana piled on top of her, she couldn’t warm herself with the chill coming from inside the air mattress.

  Mom could sleep through major demolition projects, but even she tossed and turned, which kept Lana feeling unsettled. Then she heard a whistling sound, something high-pitched and mournful.

  Lana shot up, her air mattress squishing beneath her. There had to be something lurking in the forest outside. With the taped windows, a predator could easily crawl through and attack. How long would it take someone to find their dead bodies in this run-down mansion in the middle of the Piney Woods?

  The whistle noise rang out again. This time it sounded even more sorrowful. The noise that followed could only be described as animalistic sobs. Goosebumps prickled Lana’s arms. The cries weren’t coming from outside. They were coming from inside. Upstairs perhaps. Was something hurt?

  “You hear that?” Lana asked Mom, shaking her awake.

  Mom stirred just as the cries stopped. “Get some sleep, sweets, and stop letting that imagination of yours run so wild.”

  Lana fumed. There was possibly something wild running in their mansion, not in her mind. Whatever creature or thing it was, it sounded like it needed help. Lana gathered her nerves and walked down a long corridor.

  “Hello?” she called out, her voice echoing in the darkness.

  Nothing.

  Bump! Lana ran into an old piece of furniture and lost her footing on the uneven flooring. She barely caught herself from crashing to the ground with a thud. There wasn’t enough light to continue exploring for now.

  Mom was softly snoring when Lana crawled back into bed. The air mattress felt even colder now. Lana shivered.

  Something was inside the house.

  Something was hurt.

  Lana ruled out the possibility of a ghost. She was determined to help tomorrow morning, even if Mom didn’t believe her.

  * * *

  Lana woke to the smell of coffee. Had she really been able to fall asleep despite her chills?

  “Good morning, sweets,” Mom said, passing her a smashed cinnamon roll wrapped in plastic.

  Lana always looked forward to flipping the kitchen on every home improvement project so they could finally eat real food. Not that she was complaining about the packaged junk since she needed the energy. She ate the roll in two bites, the sweetness tickling her taste buds.

  Mom emptied the pot of coffee into her travel mug with her business logo nearly worn off. She rattled off all kinds of projects that she couldn’t wait to get started on, such as new wood flooring, repairing the walls, adding cabinets, etc. “Why don’t you start by gathering some of the trash around here?” Mom asked Lana, though it seemed like more of a demand.

  Given the sprawling size of the mansion and the state of disrepair, this could take ages. Lana looked her mother in the eye. “I’ll get to it later,” she said.

  Mom was quiet, but her expression seemed like it was daring Lana to repeat or explain herself.

  Lana chose her words carefully. She’d been thinking about this for a long time, as far back as the lighthouse or maybe the log home project. “Mom, this is your passion and I support you, but I’ve been feeling overwhelmed, and I need to focus on my work more.” Lana pointed at her backpack full of books that hadn’t been touched since the whole mansion mayhem started.

  Mom’s lips tensed, and she gripped her coffee mug tightly.

  Lana stood taller. Given her recent growth spurt, she was nearly the same height as Mom. “It’s not like I don’t plan on helping you, but I need more time to be me.”

  The tension in Mo
m’s face released. She almost smiled as she said, “Wow, sweets, you’re growing up way too fast. I’ve got a team of contractors coming over later and things might be a little noisy then, so why don’t you do your own thing for now?”

  Lana didn’t move for a moment, frozen as she processed things—had this conversation really taken place, and had it really gone so well? Before Mom could change her mind, Lana grabbed her backpack and took off down a creepy corridor to find the staircase. While she planned on getting some studying in, she first needed to solve the mystery of what lurked in the mansion.

  The banister had somehow been ripped off, so Lana walked carefully, the steps creaking underneath her slight weight.

  As soon as she reached the top, she heard a small cry. The skunk-like, musty odor was even stronger.

  “Hello? Anyone here?” Lana called out.

  Mom was making a racket downstairs, but Lana heard a soft whimper in reply come from one of the upstairs bedrooms. It was followed by a knocking noise.

  Lana knocked in return. Her knees knocked too, uncertain of what she might find. She followed a trail of dried blood drops.

  The knocks continued, and there was a low, guttural groan. It was coming from the master suite, the door closed. Did Lana dare go inside?

  She hesitated for a moment, until the whimpering picked up. Was it a puppy? The sounds seemed too apish to be a dog or a cat. Lana’s hands shook as she opened the door. It better not be an injured skunk about to spray me, she thought to herself.

  Lana slowly opened the door, and she flinched as if she was about to be attacked. The only assault was a nasal one from the strong odor. The room was eerie with the tall ceilings and decaying wood furniture.

  “Are you in here?” Lana asked. Was she losing her mind?

  Knock. Knock. Knock. KnockKnockKnockKnock.

  The sound came from the corner of the room with a winding staircase next to a closet or storage room. Large boxes full of who knows what blocked the closet’s entrance.

  “I’ll get you out, but you better promise not to kill me,” Lana said. Yes, she definitely felt like she was losing her mind.

  Lana was thankful for the strength she’d gained in her arms from all of the house repair jobs as she moved box after box out of the way. The creature continued to groan and make other strange vocalizations.

  The last box might as well have been packed with lead, given its enormous weight. Lana struggled to move it. Just as she was ready to give up, she budged the box the slightest bit.

  A hand covered in blackish-brown, raggedy fur reached out. Lana gasped and jumped back. Had the previous owners of the mansion left a chimpanzee behind?

  “I’m not going to give up,” Lana said to the ape … and to herself.

  When the ape shifted its weight in the box, Lana was able to tip it over. This was unreal—something from storybooks and fables, not from the life of an ordinary girl.

  The creature crawled out of the box, the air ripe and musky. Lana steadied herself to keep from passing out.

  This was no ordinary ape.

  It looked like the drawings she’d seen of Bigfoot, only this one stood before her in the flesh. It looked younger, with babyish facial features. The beast cried out, this time a happy tune.

  “How in the world did you get yourself trapped in there?” Lana asked. “How in the world do you even exist?”

  The beast reached out to touch Lana’s forehead as if saying thanks. Lana wasn’t sure what to do. What to think. She wished Mom had been there to see Bigfoot so she’d know that she wasn’t hallucinating.

  Before she formed her next thought, the creature fled, crashing through the upstairs window. Glass rained down.

  Lana raced to the window, careful of the glass. She watched as the Bigfoot scaled the wall and raced off into the nearby forest, stopping once to look back in her direction. The creature’s eyes were so incredibly soulful. It was free. How long had it been living in and destroying the mansion until it had gotten itself trapped?

  Lana’s mind filled with questions. There weren’t any answers. There might never be.

  “You okay, sweets?” Mom asked as she stepped into the room. “I heard some glass break and thought I saw something run into the woods.”

  Lana had just opened one of the boxes to see what was inside.

  “Couldn’t stay away from work, could you?” Mom asked with a grin.

  Lana laughed from exhaustion and the absurdity of the situation. Mom was never going to believe Lana, but she would try to explain. Lana planned on using her free time to study Cryptids and to search the woods. Maybe this project was her own ticket to greatness as well as her mom’s, and it would prove to be more rewarding and exciting than Lana could ever imagine.

  * * *

  Jessica Lee Anderson is the author of Uncertain Summer, Calli, Border Crossing, and Trudy, as well as a dozen chapter books and several easy readers. Jessica lived in Hawaii for several years as a young girl, but she calls Texas home now, and she lives outside of the Austin area with her husband, daughter, and two crazy dogs. For more information, visit jessicaleeanderson.com.

  Gina Poirier pushed the puck ahead of her as she sped toward her opponents’ end. She noted the rasp, rasp of winger Nora McNab’s skates to her right and slightly behind her.

  Gina deked past the defenceman and glanced up. The opposing goalie flexed her knees and wiggled her catching glove as if to say, bring it on.

  Gina glided to her left, faked a pass, and watched as the goalie began to move across the net, in Nora’s direction. Then Gina fired the puck into the open left side.

  Nora approached with her hand upraised for a high five, and Gina saw her other teammates behind. She shot a triumphant glance at Coach Pellerin, who gave her a grudging nod.

  * * *

  Gina chattered excitedly to her mother all the way home in the car. “Maybe now I’ll get more ice time,” she said.

  “Where was Katie Comeau tonight?” Gina’s mom asked.

  “Coach said she felt sick, couldn’t make it.” Gina shrugged and looked out the window. “That’s why I got to play centre on the top line.”

  “You did a good job, honey,” Mom said, smiling. “Maurice would’ve been impressed.”

  Gina sat silent for a moment. Whenever he could, her older brother Maurice had always come to watch her games. This year, though, he’d cracked the lineup of the team in Moncton, over three hours’ drive away from the Poiriers’ home town of Aptaqatg in north-eastern New Brunswick. For the length of the hockey season, he was staying with their cousins in Moncton.

  She felt happy for Maurice, but at the same time, she missed him. Of course, if he were sitting in the car right now, he’d be telling her all the stuff she’d done wrong. She could imagine it now. You missed your check on the other centre on their first goal. You want to make the national team someday, you need to play hard at both ends of the ice.

  Gina sighed. Truth is, she’d been cheating a bit on that play, thinking her defence would chase down the puck and spring her for a breakaway. She’d gambled and been wrong.

  Katie wouldn’t have missed her check, a small voice inside her insisted.

  Yeah, but Katie wasn’t there.

  * * *

  “You missed a good game,” Gina overheard Nora say the next day at recess. Gina lengthened her strides until she caught up with her teammates.

  “Yeah, sorry,” Katie said, lowering her head. “I wasn’t feeling well.”

  “Hey, are you okay?” Nora asked. “You look—”

  Katie raised her head defiantly, and Gina saw the dark shadows under her eyes. “I look what?” Katie snapped, placing her hands on her hips.

  That’s not like Katie, Gina thought.

  “Hey, whatever,” Nora said, raising her hands, palm out. She turned to Gina. “Let’s go.”

  Gina shot a glance back over her shoulder, seeing Katie’s sour look. Sure, Katie wasn’t her favourite person. It wasn’t because Coach Pellerin had
put her on the top line—what irked Gina more was the way Katie acted as though she thought she was better than her teammates.

  That aside, though, Katie seemed pretty easygoing, usually.

  Something wasn’t right with her, that was for sure.

  Gina grimaced. Whatever it was, she hoped it would get cleared up in a hurry. To win the first round of playoffs, they needed everyone on their game—including Katie.

  * * *

  Friday night, Gina thought as she headed toward her room to get ready for bed. A whole weekend ahead, with no school. Plus, hockey tomorrow afternoon, the start of the playoffs.

  Gina frowned. She found herself torn between wanting Katie to be back for the next game and half hoping she wouldn’t be. With Katie, the team had a better chance of winning, and that mattered to Gina. The further they went in the playoffs, the more likely they’d attract the attention of scouts for the national development team. Ever since Micheline Audette from nearby Shippagan had cracked the Canadian lineup for the Olympics, Gina had dreamed about one day representing her country in international play.

  On the other hand, Gina knew her performance the other night wouldn’t be enough to convince Coach Pellerin to let her centre the top line if Katie showed up. And if she didn’t get playing time, it’d be tough to impress any scouts.

  Gina shrugged. If Katie showed, she showed. Nothing she could do about it.

  “Hey, Gina,” Mom called down the hallway after her. “Don’t forget to clean your room. Remember, I asked you earlier this week.” She paused, adding in a laughing tone, “If you don’t, the loup-garou might get you.”

  “Yes, Mom,” Gina replied. Still on about the loup- garou. She shook her head. She didn’t mind, really. The story of the loup-garou was a harmless bit of folklore parents in New Brunswick had been teasing their children with for years. Gina had looked it up, once, on the Internet. A legend, of course, with many different versions. The way her mother’s story went, if you did something bad, you might get turned into the loup-garou, which usually took the form of a wolf. Gina had read that according to some legends, the loup-garou could be another creature, such as an owl or even a pig. Gina snorted. Yeah, a pig would be pretty terrifying, wouldn’t it?