by R. L. Stine
But I ignored him. I knew what I had to do. I turned the key in the lock and lifted the lid of the glass case.
“Huh?” We all gasped as the two dummies sprang up to a sitting position at once.
“Thanks for the fresh air!” the black-eyed one exclaimed. “I was getting a leg cramp in there.”
“You certainly took your time!” the green-eyed dummy shouted. “Now I’m going to take a LONNNNG time paying you back!”
“Now, now, Slappy,” his twin scolded. “Don’t frighten them. Why can’t you ever be gentle?”
“Snappy, why can’t you ever be SMART? Is it because you’ve got sawdust for brains? Hahaha!”
“See?” the black-eyed one replied. “That’s why you have so much trouble making friends. You don’t try to be nice.”
Kelly, Jamal, and I stood frozen, watching them argue, their wooden mouths snapping up and down, their eyes sliding from side to side. Kelly kept the phone raised, aimed at them, her hand trembling.
“D-dummies can’t talk,” Jamal murmured from the stairs.
The one named Slappy turned toward him angrily. “Who you calling dummy, DUMMY?”
“Don’t call names,” his twin scolded.
“SHUT UP, SNAPPY!” Slappy screamed. He lowered both hands to the side of the display case. Then he pushed up and flung himself out of the case. His shoes landed with a loud thud on the floor.
Jamal uttered a frightened cry. Kelly took a step back but continued to video him.
“Don’t be so scared, kids,” Slappy rasped. “We’re not frightening—we’re only TERRIFYING! Hahaha!”
“Don’t be so harsh, Slappy,” his twin said.
A growl escaped Slappy’s open mouth. He turned and tugged Snappy out of the box. He slammed him hard onto his feet on the floor.
Then he turned back to us. “My name is Slappy,” he said, taking a small bow. “My genius brother is Snappy. But from now on, you can call us MASTER! Hahaha!”
“Be nice, Slappy,” Snappy said quietly. His voice was softer than his twin’s. He appeared almost shy.
Slappy ignored him. “Your father thinks he can split us up. I heard what he said. But the only thing that will be split is his HEAD! Hahahaha!”
His laugh was more frightening than his words. It was cold and cruel and didn’t sound like laughter at all.
“No violence, brother,” Snappy said, shaking his head. “You know I HATE violence.”
I realized my heart was beating like crazy. My whole body felt cold and shaky. I glanced back at Jamal. He had his hands raised in front of him, like a shield.
“We’re going to teach your father a lesson,” Slappy rasped in his hoarse, shrill voice. “We’re going to make him PAY for thinking he can split us up. And guess what, slaves—you’re going to HELP us! Hahaha!”
“Don’t force them, Slappy,” Snappy said. “That’s no way to make friends.”
Kelly turned to me, raising the phone. “I think I’ve got enough, Luke. This video will definitely convince Dad.”
I nodded toward the attic stairs. “Go. Fast. Show it to him.”
She turned to go. But Slappy moved quickly. He jumped in front of her. He grabbed the phone from her hand. I heard a loud cracccck as he closed his wooden fingers around it.
“Hey—” Kelly made a wild grab for the phone. Missed.
Slappy skipped out of her reach, laughing.
“Give it back, Slappy,” his twin said. “You know that doesn’t belong to you. Why can’t you be considerate of other people’s property?”
Slappy’s eyes spun, and he tossed both arms up and screamed in a rage. “SHUT UP, SNAPPY! I’m warning you. Don’t cramp my style, you blockhead!”
“Names can never hurt me,” Snappy replied in a singsong voice.
“Then how about this?” Slappy screamed. He swung his fist hard. It landed with a thud against Snappy’s chest.
“No fighting! No fighting!” Snappy cried.
I watched, frozen in shock, unable to believe what I was seeing. Slappy attacked Snappy again. They punched each other, their wooden fists landing against their soft middles.
Screaming and calling each other names, they wrapped their arms around each other and pulled themselves down to the floor.
I jumped out of the way as they wrestled, rolling down the aisle. They punched and head-butted and kicked and bit each other.
“You’re MEAN, Slappy. You’ve always been so mean to me!”
“You idiot! Snappy, you’ll be a dummy for the rest of your life!”
Jamal was still frozen at the stairs. Kelly leaped out of the way as the dummies wrestled and rolled down the aisle.
I saw where they were heading. “Look OUT!” I screamed.
Too late. They barreled full-force into Dad’s tall china statue of Edgar Allan Poe.
“Noooooo!” I screamed again as they hit it hard. They rolled into the legs of the statue and sent it toppling to the floor. It landed with a deafening crash—and shattered into a thousand pieces.
Shards of china went flying across the floor. The dummies, arms wrapped around each other on the floor, stopped fighting.
And as I stared at the mess all around, my dad’s precious china sculpture … I heard his voice calling from the bottom of the attic stairs: “What’s going on up there? Did I hear a crash? Did I hear broken glass?”
Before anyone could answer, Dad came charging up the stairs.
Dad burst into the attic, eyes wide with alarm. “What’s going on, guys?”
Kelly, Jamal, and I stood frozen in place.
Dad took several steps toward us. At first, he didn’t notice the missing Poe sculpture. But then his shoes crunched over pieces of broken china. He glanced down and groaned.
He dropped to the floor and gathered up a few jagged pieces. “The Poe statue? Is that what this is?” He gazed up at me.
“Uh … well …” Suddenly, I couldn’t remember any words.
“You broke the Poe statue?” Dad’s voice was a lot higher than usual. He dropped the chunks of china to the floor and stood up.
Jamal was the first one to find his voice. “We didn’t do it, Mr. Harrison.”
Kelly nodded. “It’s true.”
“Then who did it?” Dad demanded. “Elves?”
“The dummies did it, Dad,” I said. “I … I did a stupid thing. I let them out of the case. They started to fight and … well … they knocked over the statue.”
Dad studied me for a long moment. Then he turned to the glass display case at the end of the aisle.
“Oh no,” I murmured. I saw them. The two dummies. They were back in the case, flat on their backs.
“No!” Kelly cried, stepping up to the display case. “No. It’s impossible!”
Dad shook his head. “What did I teach you two about taking responsibility for the things you do?”
“You—you’ve got to believe us, Dad,” I stammered. I couldn’t take my eyes off the two dummies, folded up in the case, staring blankly at the ceiling. “I let them out. One of them is called Slappy. He was angry because you plan to split them up. He said he wanted to make trouble for you—”
Dad raised a hand to signal silence. “You’ve got a good imagination, Luke. You should write all this down. It’s the start of the screenplay you’re obviously working on.”
“But, Dad—”
“No, I’m impressed. Seriously. I’m impressed that you can make up a crazy story like that on the spot. You didn’t even take a breath.” He rubbed his beard, his eyes locked on mine. “You broke my Poe statue. And two seconds later, you’ve got a story to get you out of trouble. Amazing.”
“He’s telling the truth, Mr. Harrison,” Jamal said.
Dad waved him away. “I know you’re their friend, Jamal. But you don’t have to lie for them.”
He rested his hands on top of the case and gazed through the glass lid at the two lifeless dummies.
“Wait a minute!” Kelly cried. “I have proof, Dad. I can pr
ove that we’re telling the truth.”
Dad turned to her. “Proof? Ha. This I want to see.”
Kelly moved down the aisle of display cases, searching the floor for her phone. Finally she found it surrounded by chunks of broken china.
“I have the whole thing on video,” she said, raising the phone to Dad. “When you see this, you’ll know we’re telling the truth. And you will want to apologize to us for not believing us.”
Dad crossed his arms in front of him. “Okay. Show me.”
Kelly raised the phone. I could see from across the room that the screen was totally cracked. She pushed the HOME button. The screen remained black. She pushed it again. Nothing happened.
She shook the phone—and the back fell off.
“It’s totally wrecked.” She sighed. “Slappy cracked it with his wooden hand. He … he ruined it.”
Dad tapped his fingers on a glass case. “How did you really wreck your phone, Kelly?” he asked. “Did you drop it?”
Kelly lowered her eyes and didn’t reply.
“I guess you don’t have proof,” Dad said.
Kelly’s shoulders drooped.
“And I guess you kids think you’re going to blame everything bad that happens around here on the dummies. Well … you’d better stop that right now.”
“But, Dad—” I started.
He covered my mouth with his hand. “No more.”
“Mmmmm mmmppp mmmmmp,” I said.
“One more incident with the dummies,” he said, “and I won’t use you in the movie. I’m serious. You’ll miss all the fun. Promise me this is the last time.”
“Promise,” I muttered. What else could I do? I really wanted to be in the movie. So did Kelly and Jamal. And I wanted Dad to believe us. I didn’t want him to think we were lying or making stuff up.
But I had to make sure those dummies didn’t try to hurt Dad. I had to make sure they stayed in the case.
I looked for the key to lock them in—and gasped.
The top of the key was poking out of Slappy’s pocket in the front of his jacket.
“Dad, look!” I said.
“I”m not looking at anything.” He shook his head. “I’ve seen enough. Come downstairs.”
I sighed as I followed Dad to the stairs. As I started down, I turned back—and saw Slappy move in the glass case. He turned his head and winked at me. Then he raised one hand and waved bye-bye.
The dummies weren’t going to give up. They didn’t want Dad to split them up. I knew they would keep making trouble.
What were they going to do to him?
I didn’t know. How could I know what a wooden-headed dummy was thinking? All I knew was that we had to convince Dad he was in trouble. Somehow, we had to prove to him that we were telling the truth.
That wasn’t going to be easy.
At dinner, every time Kelly or I said the word dummy, Dad raised a finger to his mouth and made a zipping motion over his lips. The word was forbidden.
Kelly and I sat helplessly, nibbling at our macaroni and avocado salad. We didn’t feel like eating. I had a heavy feeling in my stomach and my throat felt tight, making it hard to swallow.
We tried to talk to Dad about our drone-building and about school and stuff. But I knew we both had only one thing on our minds—those two dummies.
It took me a long time to fall asleep that night. The ceiling in my room is low, and the attic is right above my head. Our house is pretty old, and it’s at the edge of the hilltop overlooking the Valley, so it kind of tilts.
Every creak and groan and squeak made me gasp and sit straight up in bed. Each time, I was sure I heard the two dummies moving around up there.
Yawning, I tried putting the pillow over my head to block out all sounds. Finally, after midnight, I drifted into a light sleep.
But a thump at my bedroom door made me sit up again, wide awake and alert. “Hey!” I cried.
My bedroom door began to slide open. Before I went to bed, I’d made sure the door had clicked shut. But someone had turned the knob. Someone was slowly pushing the door open.
“Oh no.” In the gray light from the hall, I could see the outline of the dummy’s head.
He took a step into my room and came into clear focus. The dummy, half-covered in shadow, grinning his frozen, ugly grin. His eyes glowed in the inky darkness.
“N-no!” I stammered. I sat up and hugged myself, trying to stop the chills that ran down my body.
The dummy took another silent step forward. And I could see a figure behind him. The other dummy. They both slid across the carpet, moving slowly—as if in slow motion—toward my bed. Grinning. Eyes glowing like hot, evil coals.
Their hands were raised straight out in front of them, as if they were sleepwalking. As if they were coming for me. Their shoes made no sound on my bedroom carpet.
And then I saw a third dummy in the half-open doorway. It slid into the room. Identical. It was identical to the first two. And it crept toward my bed in a straight line, arms raised stiffly in front of it.
And when the fourth dummy appeared in the room, the whispers began. They moved silently, like shadows, as if they had no bodies at all. Four sets of glowing eyes … four evil, frozen grins …
Whispering. The four of them whispering in unison. The most terrifying sound I’d ever heard in my life …
“I’m Slappy … I’m Snappy … I’m Slappy … I’m Snappy …”
The stiff wooden hands reached for me. Reached for my throat.
I opened my mouth wide and began to scream.
I knew it was a dream the moment I sat up.
I knew it had been a nightmare, but my whole body was shaking, and my teeth were chattering. I squinted into the gray darkness. No one there. No dummies creeping across the rug.
“A nightmare … A stupid nightmare,” I murmured, my voice clogged with sleep.
But I knew the dummies were still in the house. Still able to talk. Still alive. Still angry at my dad.
That wasn’t a dream. It was a different kind of nightmare. A living nightmare.
I hugged myself, forcing the shudders to stop. Outside my bedroom window, I heard a truck rumble past. And I heard a burst of wind rushing through the trees. It always gets windy up here in the hills.
I took long, slow breaths, waiting for my heart to stop pounding.
And then I heard another sound.
A thump. A tap. Outside my room.
I turned to the door. It was still shut. Still the way I’d left it.
I held my breath and listened.
Another thud. Footsteps.
Yes. Footsteps on the other side of my bedroom door. Slow, thudding footsteps inching toward my room.
The dummies were out there. I could hear them clearly.
They had climbed out of the display case, come down the attic stairs. And now they were in the hall, moving together … moving toward my room.
No. They can’t do this, I thought. I won’t let them do this. I’m going to stop them and show them to Dad.
I let my breath out in a whoosh. Ignoring the chills at the back of my neck, I leaped to my feet. My legs were trembling. But I stumbled to the door.
With a low cry, I swung the door open and burst out into the hall.
A dim yellow night-light at the floor provided a faint circle of light on the wall. And beyond it, halfway down the hall, I saw him. Saw the dummy, hidden in a deep shadow.
I took a running start. Let out a hoarse cry as I ran. Lowered my shoulder—and tackled him to the floor.
“Luke? What are you doing?”
I blinked. It took me a few seconds to realize I had tackled Kelly.
There we were, sprawled on the floor in our pajamas. I had landed on her back, and I was pushing her face into the carpet.
“Oh, wow,” I murmured. I struggled to stand up. Then I reached down and helped pull my sister to her feet. “I thought—”
She tugged her pajama bottoms straight. “Luke—have you totall
y lost it? You couldn’t see it was me?”
“How could I?” I cried. “It’s dark and—and—”
She shook her head hard. Her blond hair was tangled about her face. “Ow. I think you broke my ribs.”
I stared at her. “Well … what were you doing out here?”
“I thought I heard something,” she replied.
“Something in the attic?”
She nodded. “I think they’re moving around up there.”
“Should we tell Dad?” I said.
Kelly rolled her eyes. “Did you forget what he said about one more incident? No way we tell Dad. You want to be in the movie, and so do I. Anyway, he won’t believe us.”
“So … what should we do?” I asked.
She raised a finger to her lips. We listened hard and gazed up at the ceiling. I didn’t hear anything up there. Were the dummies awake? Were they still in the glass case? Were they somewhere else in the house?
“I … I can’t stand this,” I admitted to Kelly. “It’s like having two monsters living in the house. Two evil creatures. And we’re the only ones who know they’re here.”
Kelly brushed a strand of hair off her face. “The one named Snappy seems kind of nice.”
“It doesn’t matter!” I exclaimed. “He’s a living dummy. And he’s living in our house. And Dad thinks we’re crazy or liars or something.”
Kelly turned her gaze to the attic door. “Let’s go up to the attic.”
“Huh? Are you joking?”
“Luke, we have to prove to Dad that we’re not liars. He has to know the truth about them.”
I put my hands on my waist. “And how do we prove it to him? They already wrecked your phone.”
“That little video camera—remember? Dad gave it to you for your birthday?” Kelly said. “The GoPro camera. Go get it.”
I hurried to my room and grabbed the little camera. Kelly was being brave, and I had no choice. I had to be brave along with her.
Did I really want to go up to the attic in the middle of the night? Would I rather stick my head down an alligator’s throat?
But I couldn’t let Kelly be the brave one. And I couldn’t let her go up there alone.
