One day, when he was full of mischief Alfred stomped about his bedroom like a wild animal.

"Why oh why did we have to come and live here?" he shouted to no one but himself.

His father had brought them here to live after he had been given the very special job of Keykeeper. If anyone had bothered to ask Alfred, he would have told them that the Keykeeper of a hill was a stupid job. No one ever did ask him though. Another thing, what was so special about it that it needs its very own keeper to keep it anyway? It was a silly hill and a silly job!

"It's a very wonderful hill my dear son" his father had told him as they stood at the bottom of it when they arrived. It didn't look very wonderful thought Alfred. Infact, it gave him the creeps!

Back on that day when he had been standing at the foot of the hill in the darkness that had started to fall, he realised right there and then that it was higher than any hill he had ever seen. He had to throw his head so far back just to get a small glimpse of the top that he thought his neck might snap in two - the hill really was that high! All he could see away up there in the distance was a wobbly wonky house cloaked in an ugly black fog and nestled amongst dark clouds that looked like they were ready to explode with thunder and lightning.

The long, crooked path that wound in and out of all the thick, shadowy trees started at the very foot of the hill, behind a set of old creeky gates and ran for as far as the eye could see. Alfred wondered how long it would take them to walk all the way up that crooked path - probably about two and a half days he guessed. He gripped his father's hand tighter as he was led into the darknes and tried not to think about what monsters might be lurking amongst it.

His father told him that he shouldn't always let his imagination run away with him which is something that happened to Alfred a lot. So, before we go any further with his story I guess there's a few things you really should know about Alfred.

Number 1. Alfred has a VERY VERY vivid imagination. This isn't necessarily a bad thing but it had been known to lead to some very sticky situations (like the time he convinced his entire class on the very first day of school that Mrs. Beat the teacher was really a wicked witch sent to kidnap them. This led to thirty three small children fleeing the building in horrified screams. In his defence Mrs Beat did look a little bit like a wicked witch – a statement his father said he should never repeat to another woman as long as he lived).

Number 2. Sometimes Alfred doesn't do as he is told. He's not a bad boy really, he much prefers to call himself curiously inquisitive!

Number 3. His favourite food in the whole entire world is cake. He would probably eat it for breakfast, lunch and dinner and every other snack in between if he was allowed to, but this fact, of course, is not relevant to his story in the slightest. It is merely a truth that he likes to share with everyone he encounters.

Anyway, back to the horrid hill and the day they had arrived at the house perched upon it. When after what seemed like hours of walking they had finally reached the top, his father took out a very old looking brass key and carefully slid it into the lock. He squeezed Alfred' hand excitedly as he pushed open the big wooden door. It didn't move more than an inch and creaked so loud it sounded as if it might fall off its hinges right there and then. His father gave it another hard shove and it swung open to expose a large, dark hallway that looked very eerie indeed. Alfred gripped onto his father's leg and thought that surely monsters must live in this awful place after all. Big, ugly green monsters with purple slanty eyes and sharp teeth that would just eat him right up.

But then, his father flicked on the lights and the frightening hall was suddenly bathed in a bright, welcoming light. It was just a normal room in a normal house.

He caught his father watching him and quickly remembered that he was still mad. Mad because his father had made him leave his cosy little bedroom in their cosy little cottage. Mad because his father had made him leave behind all his friends and most of his prized possessions. He was so mad he took off and raced up the big old staircase and he ran and he ran, passing door after door along what seemed like a never ending corridor. He huffed and he puffed until he finally came to the last door and had nowhere else to run. That, quite simply, is how Alfred came to choose his bedroom in The House on The Horrid Hill.