by R. L. Stine
The audience will love it, I thought, watching the fog billow up over my long yellow dress.
“Phantom, is that you?” I called. “Are you coming to see me?”
The Phantom’s blue-and-green mask floated up in the fog. Then his black-caped shoulders hovered into view.
The audience gasped and then cheered as the Phantom rose, standing stiffly in the fog, his black cape billowing out behind him.
And then he stepped toward me, walking slowly, majestically.
“Oh, Phantom! We are together at last!” I cried with all the emotion I could put into it. “I have dreamed of this moment for so long!”
I took his gloved hand and led him through the swirls of blue fog to the front of the stage.
A white spotlight captured us both.
I turned to face him. Stared into his eyes behind the blue-and-green mask.
And realized instantly that it wasn’t Zeke!
25
I started to cry out. But he squeezed my hand.
His eyes burned into mine. He seemed to be begging me with his eyes, begging me not to say anything, not to give him away.
Who is he? I wondered, frozen in the bright spotlight. Why does he look familiar?
I turned back to the audience. Silent. Waiting for me to speak.
I took a deep breath and said Esmerelda’s next line. “Phantom, why do you haunt this theater? Please tell me your story. I will not be afraid.”
The Phantom swept his cape behind me. His eyes were still locked on mine. His gloved hand still squeezed mine tightly, as if to keep me from escaping.
“I have lived under this theater for more than seventy years,” he declared. “My story is a sad one. You might even call it tragic, my fair Esmerelda.”
“Please continue!” I exclaimed.
Who is he? I asked myself. Who?
“I was chosen to star in a play,” the Phantom revealed. “A play in this very theater. It was to be the greatest night of my life!”
He paused to take a long, deep breath.
My heart skipped a beat. He isn’t reciting the script,I realized. Those aren’t the right words.
What is he saying?
“But my great night was never to be!” the Phantom continued, still gripping my hand. “You see, my dear Esmerelda, an hour before the play was to begin, I fell. I plunged to my death!”
I gasped. He was pointing to the trapdoor.
I realized who he was now. He was the boy who had disappeared. The boy, seventy-two years ago, who was to star as the Phantom. But disappeared and was never found.
Here he was, standing beside me on the same stage. Here he was, revealing to us all how he had disappeared, why the play was never performed.
“There!” he cried, pointing to the opening in the stage floor. “That’s where I fell! There! I fell to my death. I became a real phantom. And I’ve waited down there ever since, waiting, waiting. Hoping for a night like tonight when I could finally play my greatest role!”
As he finished this speech, the audience burst into cheers and loud applause.
They think it’s part of the play, I realized. They don’t know the true pain behind his words. They don’t know that he’s revealing his true story to them.
The Phantom took a deep bow. The applause grew even louder.
The fog billowed over us both.
Who is he? Who?
The question repeated in my mind.
I had to know the answer. I had to know who the Phantom was.
As he stood up from his bow, I pulled my hand free of his.
Then I reached up — and tugged off his mask!
26
I squinted into the thick blue fog, desperate to see his face.
The bright spotlight flashed in my eyes, blinding me for a moment.
In that moment, the Phantom covered his face with both his hands.
I reached to pull away his hands.
“No!” he screamed. “No — you can’t!”
He staggered back, away from me.
Staggered and lost his balance.
“No! No!” he cried. “You can’t! You can’t!”
And toppled backward.
Into the open trapdoor.
And vanished in the swirling blue fog.
I heard his scream all the way down.
Then silence.
A horrible, still silence.
The audience rose to its feet and burst into loud applause and cries of “Bravo!”
They all thought it was part of the play.
But I knew better. I knew that the Phantom had finally revealed himself after seventy-two years. That he had finally had his moment on the stage.
And that he had died all over again.
As the curtain closed, muffling the excited cheers of the audience, I stood at the opening in the floor, my hands pressed to my face.
I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t move.
I stared down into the hole in the floor and saw only blackness.
Then, raising my eyes, I saw Zeke running across the stage to me. Wearing jeans and a white T-shirt, he lurched toward me, his expression dazed.
“Zeke!” I cried.
“Ow. Someone hit me, I think,” he moaned, rubbing the back of his head. “I’ve been out cold.” He raised his eyes to mine. “Brooke, are you okay? Did —?”
“The Phantom!” I cried. “He took your part, Zeke. He — he’s down there!” I pointed into the opening. “We’ve got to find him!”
I stepped on the peg. The trapdoor clanked and groaned. The platform returned to the top.
Zeke and I climbed aboard.
We rode it down, down to the dark chamber below.
We searched every corner. We didn’t find him.
We didn’t find the mask. Or the costume. Or anything.
Somehow I knew we wouldn’t.
Somehow I knew we would never see him again.
“Great job, people! Great job!” Ms. Walker called to us as we trooped offstage. “Phantom, I like the new lines you added! Great job! See you all at the cast party!”
Zeke and I struggled to get to the dressing room so we could get changed. But we were mobbed by people who wanted to congratulate us and tell us how talented and terrific we were.
The play was a major success!
I searched for Brian. I wanted to tell him all about the Phantom. But I couldn’t see him in the excited crowd of friends and parents.
“Come on — let’s get out of here!” Zeke cried. He pulled me by the hand out of the auditorium and into the hall.
“Wow! We’re a hit!” I exclaimed, feeling totally wrecked and pumped and dazed and crazed, all at the same time. “Good thing you were able to change into the spare Phantom costume before the second act!”
“Let’s just get our coats and get changed at home,” Zeke suggested. “We can try to figure out who played my part on the way. Then we can meet at my house to go to the party.”
“Okay,” I agreed. “But we have to hurry. My parents are waiting to tell me what a fabulous star I am!”
The sound of excited chattering and laughter drifted from the auditorium and followed us as we made our way to our lockers.
“Hey —” I stopped in front of my locker. “Look, Zeke — the door is open. I didn’t leave it unlocked.”
“Weird,” Zeke murmured.
I pulled the door all the way open, and a book toppled out onto the floor.
I bent to pick it up. It was an old book, its brown cover worn and dusty. I turned it around, squinting to read the cover in the dim hall light.
“It’s a really old yearbook,” I told Zeke. “Look. It’s from this school. Woods Mill. But it’s from the 1930s.”
“Huh? How’d it get in your locker?” Zeke asked, staring down at it.
My eyes fell on a torn sheet of paper tucked inside. A bookmark.
Gripping the old heavy book in both hands, I opened to the pages marked by the bookmark.
“Wow!”
Zeke cried. “I don’t believe it!”
We were staring at a yearbook article about the play we had just performed. THE PHANTOM TO BE PERFORMED IN THE SPRING, read the headline at the top.
“This must have been written early that school year,” I said. “We know the play was never performed. We know the whole story of what happened back then.”
“Hold the book up to the light,” Zeke instructed. “Let’s check out the pictures.”
I raised the book, and we both stared down at the small photographs that covered the two pages.
Then we saw it.
A small, blurred black-and-white photo of the boy who had won the starring role, the boy who was to play the Phantom. The boy who had disappeared.
The boy was Brian.
BEHIND THE SCREAMS
PHANTOM OF THE
AUDITORIUM
CONTENTS
About the Author
Q & A with R.L. Stine
Haunted Theaters
Is Your School Haunted?
The Scream of the Haunted Mask
The Dos and Don’ts of the Stage
A Terrifying Peek at
GOOSEBUMPS HALL OF HORRORS
#3 SPECIAL EDITION:
THE FIVE MASKS OF DR. SCREEM
Bonus material written and compiled
by Gabrielle S. Balkan
About the Author
R.L. Stine’s books are read all over the world. So far, his books have sold more than 300 million copies, making him one of the most popular children’s authors in history. Besides Goosebumps, R.L. Stine has written the teen series Fear Street, the funny series Rotten School, as well as the Mostly Ghostly series, The Nightmare Room series, and the two-book thriller Dangerous Girls. R.L. Stine lives in New York with his wife, Jane, and Minnie, his King Charles spaniel. You can learn more about him at www.RLStine.com.
Q & A with R.L. Stine
Have you ever participated in a school play? Are you a “spotlight hog” like Zeke or a “happy to work your magic behind the scenes” like Brian?
R.L. Stine (RLS): I was never in the school plays, but I have been on TV. The first time I was on TV, I couldn’t remember my first line. Here’s the sad part. My first line was, “Hello, I’m R.L. Stine.”
Zeke dislikes his freckles and Brooke wishes to be glasses-free. Have you ever wished you could change part of your appearance?
RLS: Well it’s a real drag growing werewolf fur every full moon…. Just kidding. Everyone knows I’m a vampire, not a werewolf.
How do you decide which of your books, like Say Cheese and Die! will have a sequel? Do you like writing follow-up stories?
RLS: I’ve written the most follow–up books about Slappy, the living dummy. I did those because Slappy threatened me—you know how he is. Actually, I usually write sequels if a lot of my readers ask me to. Do you have one to suggest for me?
Do you ever base your book ideas on current news, movies, songs, or events?
RLS: No. Real life is too weird and scary for me! But a lot of my titles are based on titles of old horror movies.
Goosebumps Hall of Horrors #3 Special Edition: The Five Masks of Dr. Screem is another epic Halloween adventure. What sets Dr. Screem apart from the other devious characters you’ve created?
RLS: I can’t tell you. He is a man of mystery…. Even I don’t understand him!
To find out R.L. Stine’s favorite vampire, pick up the special collector’s edition of VAMPIRE BREATH.
Haunted Theaters
The play space at Woods Mill Middle School is not the only theater where STRANGE things have been known to happen. Find out about more haunted theaters around the United States.
SINFULLY FUN
BIRD CAGE THEATRE
TOMBSTONE, ARIZONA
The Wild West is known for places like the Bird Cage Theatre, a former saloon where all sorts of gambling and rowdy behavior took place—including 26 murders! The ghosts in this establishment do very little FRIGHTENING and mostly continue the fun they knew in life. If you visit the Bird Cage Theatre, you will find a nineteenth-century horse-drawn hearse and 148 bullet holes in the floor and ceiling!
THE DARLING OF THE BALCONY
LANDMARK THEATRE
SYRACUSE, NEW YORK
She is known either as Claire, Clarice, or The Lady in White, and there is more than one theory about how this woman came to haunt this grand New York State theater. In one story, she fell from the mezzanine after seeing her husband electrocuted while working onstage. In another, she jumped after losing a part in a play. People claim to see her sitting quietly in the balcony from where she met her DEMISE and attribute cold spaces in the theater to her presence.
THE GIRL WHO WOULD NOT GROW UP
ORPHEUM THEATRE
MEMPHIS, TENNESSEE
This playhouse was made famous in part by the songs of Elvis Presley. But Memphis has another young musical talent, a girl called Mary, who makes her mark playing the organ from beyond the grave. When she is not playing “Never Never Land,” Mary can be found opening and closing doors, playing PRANKS on the actors, or giggling over her mischief in seat C-5. We suppose if you are going to spend eternity as a tween ghost, a theater is a pretty good place to do it!
PRETTY IN PITTSBURGH
PITTSBURGH PLAYHOUSE
PITTSBURGH, PENNSYLVANIA
This century-old building was home to many different types of businesses before it became a place for plays, but it was a theater when one of its most recognizable ghosts came to be. Called Gorgeous George, this hideous specter is anything but. Known not by his ghostly origin but by his green, rotting, PUTRID face, George is said to sneak up on people, get their attention by tapping on their shoulders or a nearby window, and then cackle wildly once his stinking, oozing face scares them senseless.
BAD BROTHER
SPRINGER OPERA HOUSE
COLUMBUS, GEORGIA
This beautiful home of song and drama is known for the famous people who have graced its stage in life and the afterlife. In the first category we have people such as Oscar Wilde, Will Rogers, Franklin D. Roosevelt, and Edwin Booth. In the second category, we have … Edwin Booth! Quite famous in his day for his acting abilities, Edwin is now known for his family shame. It was Edwin’s brother, John Wilkes Booth, who shot and killed President Abraham Lincoln in 1865. Now Edwin is said to HAUNT the Springer Opera House in a merry manner, playing backstage with the wardrobe and props.
Is Your School Haunted?
Complete these questions to find out if
your school auditorium is haunted.
At the end of every school year, the drama teacher …
A)is given a bouquet of roses by the graduating class.
B)quits because the acting students are such divas.
C)mysteriously disappears.
The star of the spring play …
A)offers to give you pointers on how to get over your own stage fright.
B)wears sunglasses inside and is always offering to sign your lunch bag.
C)comes to class every Monday with a new bandage on a different part of her body.
When a new play is announced, the librarian, who’s been at the school for 50 years, suddenly …
A)displays books that have to do with the theater and buys two tickets to the performance right away.
B)starts talking in a different accent every day: British on Mondays, Russian on Tuesdays, etc.
C)exits the school on the side opposite from the auditorium and takes a long vacation.
When you look up the name of your school on the Internet, you find …
A)a photo of the winning touchdown from last night’s football game.
B)a gossipy article about the art teacher’s hairdo.
C)pointers on performing exorcisms.
One afternoon, while snooping around backstage, you find …
A)a set of yearbooks from the year your uncle attended the same school.
B)a meeting going on beh
ind a locked door with a sign that says, NO LOSERS ALLOWED.
C)a bucket of what looks like blood and a strange chalk pattern on the floor.
BONUS QUESTION: Does R.L. Stine go to your school, is he the principal, or is the school named after him?
If you answered mostly …
A’s: Sorry, you are going to a completely normal school with well-adjusted teachers and students. Boring! B’s: Call a reality specialist—your school has been taken over by fans of celebrity TV shows. C’s: Yup, your school is haunted. You might want to consider going out for the cross-country team and leaving the acting to someone else!
The Scream of the Haunted Mask
Don’t worry—this mask isn’t haunted. The only scream will come from your parents if you don’t get their permission before making this mask and forget to clean up afterward! This mask takes two days to make.
BEFORE YOU BEGIN, GATHER:
•aluminum foil
•plastic wrap
•masking tape
•1 cup flour
•1 teaspoon salt
•water
•large bowl
•newspaper
•poster or acrylic paint
•3 feet of string
GET GOING:
1)Ask your parents to help you gather the ingredients and find a good place for you to make your haunted mask. You probably want to wear clothes you don’t mind getting a little dirty.
2)Make a mold: Gently press a large piece of aluminum foil over your face.
3)Use extra foil to add details to your face mold. Pay special attention to making a revolting-looking nose, chin, and eyebrows. Maybe your mask will have warts, uneven eyebrows, or an extra eyeball!
4)Cover the foil mold with plastic wrap so the wrap clings to the foil. Use masking tape to secure the plastic wrap under the foil.
