The Bouncehouse Chronicles

Chapter Three

When the sky is black and the forest is spooky, I creep out and sprint the short distance to the edge of the forest. The vineyard keeper sleeps soundly, I know from past experience. It shouldn't be hard or do this.

Either way, you can never be too careful. I definately do not want to get caught. When I pick the lock on his basement window, I take my time. The piece of wood I'm using is flimsy. Finally, though, the window opens with a satisfying click and I'm through.

The basement is a lot bigger than it seemed from outside the window. To my right is a closet with old mops and stuff shoved aside, and directly in front of me is a washer and dryer with a shelf full of detergent and who-knows-what-else. A staircase lies on my left.

Immediately, there's a problem. No clothes. No old t-shirt crumpled on the floor, no pair of shorts cast aside, no apron in a long-forgotten corner. I'm screwed.

But I shouldn't just leave, right? I've made it this far. And I just got here. Might as well look around.

I venture carefully toward the washing machines. There are no creaky floorboards to worry about since the ground it cement, but every footstep seems to echo off the walls.

I look around thoroughly, but it seems like Mr. Vineyard Man isn't a big fan of messy basements.

On the right wall, several old pictures hang in the wall by the closet. Inside the closet, the mops and buckets take up most of the floor space. No room to accidentally leave any article of clothing.

Then something catches my eye. Above me, a narrow shelf roofs the closet. I can't see what's inside, so I reach in and feel around.

Something soft and crumpled. Score! I pull my treasure down and examine it. I have found a huge, faded t-shirt with a 'Camp Forgotten Llama' logo across the front.

Suddenly, a little spider scuttles across the front of the shirt. I frantically shake it off, bumping into a mop in the process.

The excruciatingly loud chain reaction if falling things accompanies my dash the window. I can't let the vineyard keeper see me!

I hoist myself onto the sill, just in time to hear someone stirring upstairs. Part of me wants to stay and watch him, but my instincts win over and I am stumbling through the trees in moments.

I give the shirt a few more violent shakes to make sure it's completely rid of spiders and continue running. I reach my suddenly welcoming home in minutes.

My new shirt joins all the old ones on my clothesline. I sit on my pokey bed and think about tonight.

How could I be so clumsy? That stupid spider! Now the man know I exist! And that isn't supposed to happen!

Maybe he'll just blame it on a burglar, right? Or did he see me? Was I fast enough to run away?

It is with these thoughts in mind that I fall into a short, uneasy sleep.