Jackson Jones, Book 1_ The Tale of a Boy, an Elf, and a Very Stinky Fish - Jenn L. Kelly [16]
“This is definitely unexpected, Meeka,” Jackson said, rather predictably.
It was a door. The door was lovely, but rather out of place. It definitely wasn’t the kind of door you’d expect to find in a hallway. (But then, none of the doors were expected.)
It was painted a vivacious red. Hanging on the vivaciously red-painted door was a large, black dragonfly-shaped door knocker.
Meeka smiled mysteriously, her tiny little hand lifting the door knocker and…
The vivacious red door swung open.
Chapter 22
ANOTHER WARNING: This Chapter Has Gargantuan, Hairy-Backed Spiders in It!
Jackson and Meeka stepped onto a patch of squishy grass. They were outside. At least, it seemed as though they were outside. The sky was bright blue, birds sang in the distance, and the grass was a lush green. In front of them was a path that led to…
“What on earth is a whole house doing in here?” Jackson asked, bewildered.
Meeka smiled a little smile. “This house has always been in here.”
I’m sure you’re wondering if this is for real. I mean, how many rooms or hallways or houses could actually fit into someone’s hair? Even someone with very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, big hair?
I have absolutely no idea. Perhaps Jackson shrank when he went into her hair. Perhaps he passed through a portal to another world. I wasn’t given that information, and I was so enthralled with the story when it was told to me, I forgot to ask. Sometimes you get so caught up in something that you forget to ask the right questions. Like when someone has a baby, you are just so excited for them you forget to ask what it is. A boy? A girl? A goldfish? So you’ll just have to accept that this is not my story, I can’t answer all the questions, and we’ll move on.
Jackson stared at the path.
Well, it was kind of a path. You couldn’t really see it for all the weeds.
Yes, weeds. And not the nice kind. These were bad, ugly, dangerous weeds. There were the kind of weeds with sharp thorns. And there were the creep-along-the-ground kind waiting to snatch your ankles. And there were the little, innocent, daisy-like weeds that looked oh-so-cute, but once you were close they reeked of fishy dog breath.
Jackson carefully maneuvered his way along the path, avoiding the perilous weeds. He approached a lovely wrap-around porch. Well, it would have been lovely if not for the chipped white paint exposing gray patches of worn, worm-eaten wood.
There was something very familiar about this house, but he couldn’t put his finger on what.
With a fabulous screech, Meeka vaulted onto the porch and began climbing the railing.
Jackson’s eyes opened wide as he watched her.
“What are you doing?” he cried. “You could fall and hurt yourself!”
Meeka rolled her big eyes in exasperation. (Go ask your mom what that means. Ask her about twenty times.) “This is the only way in!” And she pulled herself up.
“But what if you fall?” He pointed to the front door. “Look, there’s a perfectly good front door to go in! Why don’t we just use that?”
Perhaps he shouldn’t have said that.
The front door was indeed a perfectly good way to go in.
If you didn’t mind the big hole in the floor or the boards nailed across the door.
Or the huge skull-and-crossbones sign with large letters that read “Go away.”
Or the wispy cobwebs strung across the railings.
Or the gargantuan, hairy-backed spiders hiding in the corners, waiting for their lunch.
No, if you didn’t mind those things at all, then the door was an excellent way to go in.
Meeka rolled her eyes again and exhaled a little bird-y sigh. She reached up and grabbed the rafters of the porch.
“Just give me a boost!”
Jackson was not sure about this. “I’m not sure about this, Meeka!” he called out.
Meeka clambered into the upstairs window. “Come on!” she squeaked,