Chapter One
How to Live in a Spooky House
I’m Artie.
I’m eleven years old, and my new house is SPOOKY.
I MEAN REALLY SPOOKY.
I mean creaky floorboards, dusty attic, spiders everywhere, SPOOKY.
If I believed in ghosts, WHICH I DO NOT, I would think this house was haunted.
Mum says the house has `amazing bones’.
She means it will be great when she fixes it up, but it makes me think of actual bones.
It makes me think of skeletons that jump out of wardrobes . . . if I believed skeletons could do that, WHICH I DO NOT.
The spooky house isn’t the only new thing in our lives.
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