The Tree House

We pulled up to our new house on Maple Street and my mother sighed with exhaustion. She knew what was ahead of us. There'd be days and days of cleaning and unpacking, then of course, there was the months of adjustments at our new school. It was never easy being the new kids. My Dad told my sister and me to “cheer up” and go check out the cool tree house in the backyard of our new house. It was a big yard with lots of thick grass and patches of flowers here and there. Way in the back there was a huge oak tree. Its branches were thick and sprawling, and its cover of leaves created a large circle of shade in what was otherwise a very bright area. As we approached and looked up, there it was -- the treehouse. My sister’s expression quickly changed from sunny to sullen, as we gazed upon the most dilapidated and rickety old treehouse you could ever imagine. And there seemed to be something inside ...