The Staircase Ate My Little Brother
by Brigette Yanes
“I dare you.” Joey glared at me.
“You do it.” He turned to follow the tour group out of the room with mom and dad, but I grabbed his tee-shirt, held him back.
“You’re a chicken shit.” He knocked my hand away.
“Am not, watch!” He ducked under the red velvet rope, making the Restricted Access sign swing.
The spiral staircase groaned and rocked, even under an 8 year olds weight. Lion heads on the iron rails watched each step as he climbed. Near the top he turned, looked down, laughed. “See! I’m no chicken!”
He jumped and the staircase shrieked. On his second jump, the wooden stair ate his shoes with his feet still in them. One second he was laughing; the next he was up to his ankles in wood.
“Ow!” He cried. “Jake, help me!”
I wanted to help him. I did. But I couldn’t move. All I could do was watch as the wood rippled, just like quick sand, and swallowed my little brother up to his waist. He tried to grab the rails, but he just kept sinking until only the top of his head remained. His eyes were full of tears, begging, but I couldn’t move. Nobody believed me when I told them the staircase ate Joey.
Eventually the police sent us home. My mom cries every day. I don’t know why the stairs ate my little brother. I don’t know why I didn’t help him.
by Brigette Yanes
“I dare you.” Joey glared at me.
“You do it.” He turned to follow the tour group out of the room with mom and dad, but I grabbed his tee-shirt, held him back.
“You’re a chicken shit.” He knocked my hand away.
“Am not, watch!” He ducked under the red velvet rope, making the Restricted Access sign swing.
The spiral staircase groaned and rocked, even under an 8 year olds weight. Lion heads on the iron rails watched each step as he climbed. Near the top he turned, looked down, laughed. “See! I’m no chicken!”
He jumped and the staircase shrieked. On his second jump, the wooden stair ate his shoes with his feet still in them. One second he was laughing; the next he was up to his ankles in wood.
“Ow!” He cried. “Jake, help me!”
I wanted to help him. I did. But I couldn’t move. All I could do was watch as the wood rippled, just like quick sand, and swallowed my little brother up to his waist. He tried to grab the rails, but he just kept sinking until only the top of his head remained. His eyes were full of tears, begging, but I couldn’t move. Nobody believed me when I told them the staircase ate Joey.
Eventually the police sent us home. My mom cries every day. I don’t know why the stairs ate my little brother. I don’t know why I didn’t help him.
