The Secrets of Hidden Creek

After three days at Grandma and Grandpa’s summer cabin, we knew it was going to be a long, boring summer. Then Jenny got her bright idea: Ghost Hunting at Wormwood! I don’t know about Chuck, but I felt prickles on the back of my neck. The place across the lake looked like something an author named Edgar Allen Poe wrote about in Grandma’s book with the horrible pictures of the ruined castles with bats, and people decaying and dribbling down the sides of their coffins. But Jenny thought it wo...