The House With a Secret Within Its Walls - Florence Zimmerman

Chapter 2 - The Window

1ST OF OCTOBER

The infamous Slaughter House — also known as the House with a Clock in Its Walls — was oddly quiet on the first day of October. Both Jonathan Barnavelt and Florence Zimmerman noticed this, and discussed the concerning change when the witch came over for breakfast.

They tried to keep their voices down, because Lewis, Jonathan's orphaned nephew who was living with him, was still asleep upstairs. It was a Saturday, they would have hated to wake him.

"When I stepped on the front porch, the garden didn't make any noise, and the couch didn't greet me inside either," Florence huffed and puffed as if it was very rude of the magical house to behave in such a way. "Your manners are rubbing off on your furniture, Jonathan."

"Oh, shut your trap," the warlock scoffed. "This is more than a bit of morning grumpiness. The stained glass windows are not moving or changing at all, and we both know that means serious trouble."

"Isaac Izard is dead, what could be the problem?" Florence shook her head.

"Hopefully Lewis didn't bring him back again," Jonathan joked, but his neighbour's glare immediately silenced him. "Okay, geez, no need to curse me for a little pun."

"You never heard the clock ticking again, did you?" the purple witch asked with genuine concern.

"I didn't. The clock was destroyed too. Stop worrying, you have enough gray hairs as it is," Jonathan took a cookie from the box on the table.

"Well at least my hair is on my head, not my entire body," Florence retorted without hesitation.

"Old hag," Jonathan managed with his mouth full.

"Bigfoot."

"You have to try harder than that, you purple chopstick."

"You have to stop stuffing your huge face and babbling at the same time if you don't want to choke," Florence smirked. "Not like I would mind."

Before they could have continued throwing insults at each other, Lewis showed up in the kitchen door with his messy bedhead and sleepy face. He was still in his pajamas, which he was starting to grow out of. The supposedly long sleeves were already several inches above his wrists, his pants were on their journey to becoming knee-length, and when he stretched, his stomach showed.

Both Florence and Jonathan had to suppress a proud but confused look. They bought Lewis those pajamas two months ago. The boy has grown a lot since he moved in, and he was continuing to grow, nearing his fifteenth birthday. Florence couldn't believe how rapidly time was flying.

"Why is everything so quiet?" Lewis yawned. "It's unnerving. I can't sleep without the background noise. How come the house isn't messing around?"

"We are wondering about that ourselves, dear," Florence sighed.

"...oh," the boy frowned.

"I'm sure it's nothing serious," Jonathan reassured both the others and himself. "Maybe it's feeling a bit down. We should try to cheer it up or something."

"How do you cheer up a house?" Lewis raised his eyebrows skeptically.

"Dunno. But we can certainly try," Jonathan shrugged.

"If you say so," Florence side eyed her neighbour, her voice dripping with mockery.

"Does anyone have a better idea?" Jonathan glared back at the witch.

Nobody did.

—•°•—

"I can't believe I'm doing this," Florence grumbled as she threw tennis balls at a completely still and normal-looking couch, trying to gauge its excitement.