Wooden Bones Read Online Free

There was lots of shouting back and forth. Someone fired a gun. Perhaps it was Geppetto, firing into the sky to try to scare them off, or perhaps someone in the crowd twitcheda trigger finger by mistake, but then lots of bullets were flying.
    Windows smashed and the glass rained down all around them. Geppetto fired back, aiming high, but then a bullet sliced into his shoulder.
    He cried out in agony and slumped to the floor, pressing his hand against the blood blooming on his shirt.
    â€œPapa!” Pino cried, rushing to him.
    They crouched on the floor beneath the window. Bullets still plowed into the cottage, smashing glasses in the cupboard and a vase on the table.
    A flaming torch sailed through a broken window and immediately set fire to their rug. Then another sailed through and landed on the table. Smoke filled the room, stinging their eyes and choking their lungs.
    â€œWhat’re we going to do?” Pino said.
    Geppetto looked at him. For the first time in his short life Pino saw that the man who had made him, the man who had fashioned him out of wood and given him life, did not always have the answer. Before he had much time to think about it, the closet door banged open and the puppet lurched into the hazy room, stopping when it saw them, oblivious to the flaming carpet beneath its feet.
    â€œMove!” Geppetto said. “Don’t just stand there, Antoinette!”
    But it was too late. Pino had made her out of old wood, the kind that has had months to dry and become rich food for a hungry fire.
    The flames exploded up her legs, lighting her dress as if it were newspaper. Only when she was completely engulfed did she seem to realize what was happening, and then she ran around in circles, flapping flaming arms.
    It was at that moment that Pino realized a way to escape. With the walls burning and crackling all around him, and bulletsstill flying, he lunged for the door. He threw it open, staying out of sight of the crowd.
    â€œPino!” Geppetto said. “No!”
    â€œAntoinette!” Pino shouted. “Go to the well! It’ll put out the fire!”
    For a moment Pino didn’t think it would work. The flaming puppet continued its mad pirouettes.
    But then it stopped, looked at Pino with its black eyes encased in shimmering flames, and ran for the door. As soon as the dull thuds of its feet reached the deck, the sight of the puppet—fully afire, lurching crazily, waving its arms—had the effect Pino wanted.
    A woman screamed. Then another. The gunshots stopped, and then there were the sounds of people fleeing. “A monster! A monster!” the people cried.
    â€œLet’s go, Papa!” Pino said.
    They grabbed their bags and fled out the door, using the cover of the smoke and the crowd’s hysteria to escape to the forest unnoticed.
    Geppetto’s right arm was as red as if he’d dipped it in a barrel of paint. Before disappearing into the trees, Pino took one last glance back at the mayhem surrounding what had been the only home he had ever known—the flaming roof of their cottage, the smoky outlines of people fleeing, and the shrieks and screams rising up from the townsfolk who had once been Geppetto’s loyal customers.
    The last thing Pino saw, before they vanished into the forest, was the flaming puppet of Antoinette running in circles in front of the cottage, grasping at the air as if she were trying to hug someone who wasn’t there.

CHAPTER FIVE
    A ll their running took Geppetto and Pino deep into the woods surrounding their home. If you’ve ever been truly frightened—not just startled or surprised, like you might feel when someone pops out of a closet as a sort of joke, but truly frightened—then you know exactly how Pino felt in that moment.
    You know what it’s like to be so scared that your heart is a loud drum in your ears; to be so scared that every snap of a twig and every moving shadow is your enemy; to be so scared