Grunkle Stan Mystery Shack Novels & Stories

Tommy searched for a joke there, but thought better of it. “I’m getting the feeling we’re being watched,” said Richard uneasily. “Oh, we are. You can bet your ass.” Amid the leaning ramshackle homes stood one that looked different, with dried cornstalks and grapevine wreaths, and twisted grapevine symbols adorning its clapboards, not much more than a shack itself really, but with flagstones and an immaculate yard in front and no junk or torn trash bags anywhere to be seen. Tommy gestured. “That’s where we’re going. Furnace Street.” Before Rich could question, he went on: “She needs cleanliness to do what she does. No clutter. No filth.”

From the water’s edge I could see a half-mile up and downstream. I strolled to the bait house, pushed in the door, and stepped inside. It smelled of dead fish, insects, and smoke from an antique pot-bellied wood heater standing in the center. The single-room shack was lined with cages of live crickets, two bubbling 20-gallon aquariums of minnows, and shelves with cardboard containers of worms and a few cans of pork ‘n beans. An old rusty freezer marked “ICE” tilted where the floor sagged on the left side and a glass-top horizontal Pepsi box hummed behind the door. The place had never seen a broom. A white-haired, leather-skinned old-timer sat on a cut-off tree stump mending fishing net and d

The woods were eerily quite except for the commanding sound of the mystery man narrating her journey. Gretchen could smell the faint scent of a fire burning, and the run down stone shack with a thatched roof from her visions came into view. Her balled fists rubbed the condensation from the small, broken window, then Gretchen peeked inside. The only furniture that sat inside was a table with two chairs and a small stove in the center of the floor for warmth. Gretchen pushed the door and opened it carefully.. The floor was dirt covered with some blankets sewn together into a bed near the stove. It couldn't have been very warm or dry laying on the cold ground.

Infact , she had never even seen this kind of house in TV and never knew it existed. "Oh my days!" She exclaimed. "Please follow me, Mrs." Perry said politely and Ida followed him inside. "He will come to you soon," Perry said and when he was about to walk away, Ida asked, "is this house for him?" "I don't mean to be rude but you can ask from him when you see him," Perry smiled and walked away. Looking around the exorbitantly disigned house, she marvelled. When she heard steps behind her, she immediately turned and saw 'Mr. Pimp.' This time, he was wearing a round neck body hug shirt that revealed how broad his chest was and how big his muscles was, he was also wearing joggers.

Hannah's confused voice suddenly appeared behind him. Mike turned around and glared at her. "You're finally home!" He yelled sarcastically. "Drop that suitcase and come with me." He demanded. Raising her cunning eyebrows, she asked. "Where to?" "To STANFORD'S Company." He muttered coldly. She couldn't help but frown. "Why is that?" She sounds really confused. "The company was in crisis because of you and you have the guts to ask me this? Fix it before I lose my goddamn mind!" He growled at her.

Mister got a huge smile on his face and he laughed to himself as a plan began to form in the back of his brain. He suddenly snapped back from his thoughts and hurried back to his great grandmother's room, and that lose spot in the floor. He needed to try to open the lock and retrieve the book that was still in the trap and locked underneath it. He was sure that it held the information on the Old Crone that he desperately needed. He was beginning to feel a little bit excited and ready for adventure. That was a feeling that he hadn't felt in a while. He had almost forgotten just how addictive that it could be.

Good old grandad, he still hasn't changed. “Well, good morning luna" he says to me “Good morning grandad" I said I got to the kitchen and made myself some toast with butter and jam. While eating, I ask my grandad “Grandad, why do people in the neighborhood call this house a haunted house?" “Oh those are all lies, wouldn't I know if my own house was haunted?" he casually replied. Right after he said that, there was a slight shake in the house and grandad's face was covered in the newspaper, his shoulders hunched, he didn't usually sit like this but when the shake stopped, grandad was sitting up normally like nothing happened and asked me,

I said then went down the stairs to the ground floor and started to look for my slugslinging safe room. Meanwhile the Shane Gang was surprised to see an unknown inkling dodging all slugs & ghouls and fired at the same time, while Dr. Blakk retreated back to his hideout. “Who was that?” Trixie aksed “I don’t know but I found out that this unknown slugslinger can sling both slugs & ghouls” said Eli “what that’s impossible only Blakk uses ghouls” Kord explained “true but that inkling was holding a ghoul and a slug we never seen before” said Eli “you do have point Eli but we don’t know who is that inkling Eli” said Trixie “Trixie is right for once” said Pronto so the Shane Gang went downstairs t

I watched them go from the porch, Kaia tossing iron ash like she was sugaring a pie, Adrian vaulting the rail and landing light, the sound wave on his neck catching sun. ‘Be careful,’ I told her across the link. ‘Always,’ she sent back, and then they were gone. Becky turned Harbormere’s mezzanine lights on and off from our kitchen just because she could. “Crane Street has a bad habit of putting all its eggs in one VLAN,” she told Max, who pretended to be offended by the word VLAN and secretly wrote it down for later. Joel stacked net launchers in the SUV like a man who intended to bring everyone home and Olive labeled med kits in looping script and tucked hard candy into every bag.

Just two at a kitchen table at nine at night, carrying pieces of a story bigger than ourselves. A sound from the hallway, small, dragging feet. The doorknob turned. Shen stood there, in pajamas, clutching his wolf toy. His hair was a chaotic mess of sleep. He looked at me first, checking for reassurance, then turned his gaze to Elena. He’d met her briefly at Madam Lia’s, but to Shen, "briefly" meant a puzzle he hadn’t yet solved. He studied her with deep, dark blue eyes. "Aunt Elena," he said.