Nightmare in 3-D

by R. L. Stine

  7

  I pressed my hands against my ears as hard as I could, but I couldn’t keep the noise out. I felt as if the buzzing dots were trapped inside my head. Crawling through my ears and behind my eyes.

  The dots glowed brighter. They twirled around me faster and faster.

  My eyes itched and burned. I wanted to rub them, but I was afraid to unblock my ears.

  The itching spread through my entire body. Down my neck, my chest, around my back, over my arms and legs.

  I squeezed into the corner of my bed. Then I quickly grabbed for my pillow and pulled it over my head.

  I wanted to scream for help, but I was afraid to open my mouth. I was afraid the dots would fly inside me. Crawl down my throat and into my stomach.

  A foul odor rose over my room. I could smell it through the pillow. Worse than a skunk or rotten eggs or spoiled milk.

  My stomach lurched. My throat and nose burned. My entire body itched.

  I had to do something!

  I had to stop the swirling dots!

  I released my grip on the pillow and grabbed my bedspread. I wound it around my arm. Then I dropped to my hands and knees and crawled toward the closet.

  The buzzing grew almost unbearable without the pillow protecting my ears.

  I forced myself to inch forward—until I reached the closet. The dots were still spilling out.

  I shoved one edge of the blanket under the door. The dots kept coming. My fingers shook as I stuffed more of the blanket into the crack. I could feel the dots pushing against it. Struggling to get out.

  I kept jamming the blanket under the door until it was wedged in tight. Then I backed up.

  No light leaked from the closet.

  I spun around.

  All the dots in the room had disappeared.

  I sat down carefully on the edge of my bed. I stared at the closet door. Waiting to see if the dots could escape my barricade.

  I stared into the darkness for a long time. The room remained dark and silent.

  The knots in my stomach disappeared. My hands fell open at my sides. I realized I’d been clenching my teeth, and I relaxed my jaws.

  My breathing came slower and deeper. My eyes began drifting closed. I couldn’t stay awake any longer. I crawled back under the covers and shut my eyes.

  I flopped over onto my stomach—my favorite sleeping position . . . .

  Crack!

  The noise jerked me wide awake. It sounded like a tree being split by lightning.

  Crack! There it was again.

  The room was still dark, but I knew where the noise was coming from. The closet.

  I crept slowly across the bed. My eyes locked on the closet door.

  “No!” I cried as my eyes adjusted to the darkness. “This can’t be!”

  The door was bulging—bulging out into the room. The wood stretching and stretching—like a balloon about to pop.

  Then I heard a whooshing sound. And the door seemed to suck itself back in.

  Then it began to swell again. Pushing its way farther and farther into the room. The wood groaned and cracked. I could hear it splintering under the strain.

  In and out.

  In and out.

  Every time the door swelled, the wood cracked some more.

  The door was splitting open. Splitting right in two.

  And then I spied it.

  Jutting out through the split in the door.

  A giant feeler.

  8

  “Helllp!” I screamed as I dived across my bed. I grabbed my glasses and shoved them on.

  “Wes! Wes! What’s wrong?” Mom stumbled into my room in her polka-dot nightgown and matching slippers.

  She switched on the overhead light and sat down on my bed next to me. “Did you have a nightmare?” she asked, wrapping her arms around my shaking shoulders.

  “No,” I croaked. My tongue felt like cotton and I couldn’t stop my teeth from chattering. “It’s—it’s the m-m-mantis. He’s trying to break out of the closet. He—”

  Mom gave the closet a quick glance. “Slow down a minute, Wesley,” she said, smoothing out my rumpled hair. “Take a deep breath and calm down.”

  I took a deep breath.

  “Now, what did you say was in the closet?”

  “The praying mantis. I tried to tell you at dinner,” I said. “That’s what was hidden in the Mystery Stereogram. You know, the one I got from Sal’s Five-and-Ten?”

  Mom gave a hesitant nod.

  “Well, it’s alive. And it can get out of the poster.”

  Mom rolled her eyes.

  “You’ve got to believe me,” I pleaded. “The mantis ate a moth that landed on the poster. And Fluffums.”

  “It ate Fluffums?” Mom exclaimed.

  “No, no. The mantis pulled that clump of fur out of him. That’s why I put the poster away in my closet. It’s dangerous. It’s really dangerous. And now the mantis almost smashed through the closet door.”

  Mom stared hard at the closet door again, then peered around my room. My lamp lay on the floor with the shade knocked off. Pieces of the broken lightbulb were scattered everywhere. And my bedspread was stuffed under the closet door.

  “I think we should open the closet and look inside, Wes,” Mom said, patting my shoulder.

  “I d-don’t think that’s a good idea, Mom,” I stammered.

  “Now, come on, Wes,” she crooned. “We’ll open up the closet door, and you’ll see—everything will be fine. Just fine.”

  I forced myself over to the closet, tiptoeing around the pieces of broken glass. I examined the door closely. It seemed okay.

  I rubbed my hand over the wood.

  Smooth. No cracks. Not even a splinter.

  Mom padded up beside me. “Now,” she said patiently, “open the door.”

  I hesitated for a second. Yes, I decided. Mom was right. I had to open the closet. I had to know if the mantis was still waiting for me.

  I slowly pulled the bedspread out from under the door.

  My eyes were glued to the crack at the bottom.

  No light. No dots. No buzzing sound. Safe so far.

  Mom reached over my shoulder and turned the doorknob. A cold chill ran down my spine. Huge drops of perspiration dripped from my forehead. My pajamas began to stick to me.

  “Hmmm. It seems to be stuck,” Mom said. She twisted the doorknob both ways and pulled harder.

  “No! Don’t!” I shouted. I grabbed her wrist.

  “Your hands are like ice cubes!” she exclaimed.

  “I’m scared!” I admitted, gripping her arm tighter. “Maybe the mantis doesn’t want us to get in. Maybe it’s holding the door shut.”

  Mom gave me a quick hug. “It’s okay,” she said softly. “These old wooden doors just get sticky sometimes.”

  She tried the doorknob again. This time it turned.

  My temples pounded. My pulse began to race. I held my breath as she slowly opened the door.

  But I didn’t look inside. I couldn’t. I just studied her face. Waited for her reaction. But her expression didn’t change.

  She reached into the closet. Pulled on the chain that switches on the closet light. “Seems to be okay,” she said. Then she stepped back so I could see inside.

  My heart hammered in my chest as I pushed up my glasses to peer into the closet.

  Everything seemed—normal.

  Just as I’d left it.

  The poster still lay behind the hula hoop—still tightly rolled up.

  I shoved a couple of shirts aside. Nothing behind them.

  I studied the lightbulb in the closet ceiling. Normal.

  I felt the inside of the door. No cracks.

  A sigh escaped my lips.

  I shuffled over to my bed and collapsed into it. My arms and legs had turned to limp noodles. “Maybe it was a nightmare,” I mumbled.

  “They can feel awfully real,” Mom answered. She picked up my lamp and returned it to the nightstand. “I’ll be right back. I want t
o sweep up that broken glass before you cut your feet.”

  As soon as Mom left, I bolted over to the closet door and stuffed the bedspread back into the crack. This wasn’t a dream. This was real. And I wasn’t taking any chances.

  When I heard Mom’s slippers clomping back toward my room, I leaped back in bed. She handed me a new lightbulb, and I screwed it into my lamp right away. She didn’t ask me about the bedspread—even though I know she noticed it shoved back under the door.

  Mom swept the bulb pieces into a dustpan and emptied them into my wastebasket. “Should I switch this off, Wes?” She pointed to the overhead light.

  “That’s okay, Mom. I’ll get it.”

  “Good night, Wes,” she said. “Call me if you need me.”

  “Good night.”

  “Good night. What a joke, I thought. This was the worst night of my life. And it wasn’t over yet.

  I felt okay with Mom in the room. But as soon as she left, I couldn’t stop staring at the closet. Waiting for something to happen. Something bad.

  I thought maybe I should take the poster out to the garbage. But then I imagined the mantis escaping from the poster, bursting through the front door, and crawling up here to strangle me in my sleep.

  No. Taking it outside wouldn’t help.

  I decided to bring the poster to school tomorrow and show it to Mr. Gosling. He’s a scientist. Kind of. Maybe he’d have a logical explanation.

  I left on all the lights. I propped the pillows against the headboard so I could watch the closet. And just to be extra safe, I left my glasses on. Now I’d be ready to run if the dots came back.

  Would they come floating out again?

  Would they?

  I vowed to stay up all night to find out.

  9

  Bzzzz. Bzzzz. Bzzzzz.

  The dots are back!

  I leaped out of bed and charged out of my room. I stood in the empty hallway, trying to catch my breath. My chest heaved up and down. I started to wheeze.

  Bzzzzz. Bzzzzz. Bzzzzz.

  Wait a minute. I knew that sound.

  I stood up against the doorframe and peeked into my room.

  No dots.

  My alarm clock—ringing. Only my alarm.

  I hurried back into my room and shut off the clock. Then I checked out my room.

  The lights were still on.

  My bedspread was still stuffed under the closet door.

  I had made it through the night. Somehow.

  I felt so relieved—until I realized I couldn’t get dressed without opening the closet to get my clothes.

  I crept over to the closet door and pressed my ear against it. No sounds. No insects buzzing.

  I knelt and slid the bedspread out from under the crack. Then I opened the closet with a quick jerk.

  No mantis!

  I grabbed a pair of jeans and my red flannel shirt and pulled them on. I stuffed my feet into my socks and high-tops. Then I lifted the poster with two fingers. The paper felt damp and sort of sticky. I slid it into my backpack and raced downstairs.

  I couldn’t wait to talk to Mr. Gosling. He knew all about optics. He had a scientist’s mind. He’d help me figure this out.

  “You okay this morning?” Dad asked. He began slicing a banana over his cornflakes.

  “Uh—sure,” I answered. I shook some cereal into a bowl and splashed on some milk. “Just a bad dream,” I added. I didn’t want to talk to my parents about the mantis again until I figured out what was going on.

  I wolfed down the cereal and chugged a glass of apple juice. “Got to go,” I called. I slipped my backpack on and headed for the door.

  Clawd wound himself around my legs. I bent over to pet him, and the poster started to slide out of my backpack. “Yeooww!” Clawd tore away from me like a streak of lightning.

  I sighed. “Bye,” I called again and left. I had to get some answers today.

  As I walked to school, I kept reaching back and touching the poster. Making sure it was still there. I felt as if I had some sort of monster trapped in a bottle. And I didn’t want it to get loose.

  I felt extra glad when I spotted Lauren waiting for me at our usual corner. She was wearing a bright blue jacket that matched her eyes. And she had her black hair pulled back with a matching headband.

  Lauren frowned as I jogged up to her. “Hey. Wes, you look wrecked. Are you okay?”

  “Not really,” I admitted. I reached back and touched the poster again.

  We turned onto Hawthorne Street, and I told Lauren about everything. The mantis. The moth. Clawd, Fluffums, the real, live nightmare in my bedroom last night. And my plan to ask Mr. Gosling for help. I talked nonstop.

  When I finally finished, we were a block away from school. “Well, what do you think?”

  “Uh,” Lauren started. She chewed her lip for a minute. “Wes, this isn’t a joke or anything, is it?” she asked. “I mean, is this a story you’re just trying out on me? Before you tell it to the twins?”

  “Of course not!” I protested. “I wouldn’t joke about something like this. It’s too weird. Besides, why would I try to fool you?”

  “Okay, okay.” Lauren held her hand up. “But you have to admit—it is a really strange story.”

  “I know. But you do believe me, don’t you?”

  “Sure,” Lauren said. But I could tell she really wasn’t sure. “Talking to Mr. Gosling is a good idea,” Lauren continued. “He’s logical and all. Maybe he can figure it out. Anyway, whatever happens, Wes, remember—you beat the twins!”

  “Yeah. I did. I almost forgot.” We laughed and slapped each other a high five.

  Then Lauren’s face turned serious. “You know—maybe that creepy guy in the five-and-ten was right. Remember, he kept saying, ’You have the power to see.’ Maybe it has something to do with that.”

  Lauren was really starting to believe me!

  We crossed the street. A lot of kids were already hanging around outside the school.

  “Hey, there’s Kim.” Lauren pointed to a red-haired girl wearing bright green leggings and a matching jacket. “I have to borrow her history notes. See you later,” she called as she ran ahead. “And be careful!”

  “See you later,” I called, turning up the cobblestone walkway alone.

  I reached back one more time to touch the poster—and something yanked me hard from behind. I stumbled backward.

  I tried to turn. But it held both my arms in a tight grip.

  I tried to scream. But no words came out.

  I struggled to escape, but the more I twisted, the tighter it clung to me. Tighter, tighter. Hauling me right off the sidewalk.

  I felt something sharp dig into my neck. Something sharp—like pincers.

  10

  “Help!” The word exploded from my throat. “Somebody help me!” I twisted and fought to get free.

  And then the thing released me.

  I thudded to the ground—and spun around.

  The “thing” had four arms. And four legs. And tails growing out of the sides of two ugly snorting heads.

  Corny and Gabby.

  I sighed and pushed myself to my feet. I felt like a total jerk.

  They stared at me, giggling and snorting. “Got you, huh?” Corny taunted.

  “Yeah,” I shot out. “You’re a riot. A real riot. Corny.”

  “Don’t call me that!” Corny scowled.

  “Yeah, don’t call her that,” Gabby echoed, twirling her ponytail.

  “Your family owes our family money,” Corny announced. “Money for the vet bills our parents had to pay.” She narrowed her eyes.

  “Lots of money.” Gabby sneered.

  “And that’s not all,” Corny jumped in. “The police are going to take your vicious cat away, too.”

  I could feel my face grow red-hot. I wanted to lunge for the twins and yank them around by their stupid ponytails. “No way! Your dog ran into our house,” I insisted.

  At least I beat them at the contest, I thought.
And the second my prize arrives, I will rub it in their faces. I will never let them live it down.

  But for now I would have to follow Lauren’s advice—and ignore them.

  Without another word I adjusted my backpack, turned, and left.

  * * *

  I met Lauren at the lockers right before science. I’d gotten through the first couple of hours of school with no problems. I told her what the twins said that morning about the police taking Clawd away.

  “They’re making it up. They’re such jerks,” she said, slamming her locker shut with an extra-loud bang.

  I shoved my math book into my locker and hung my jacket on the hook. Then, very carefully, I inched the poster out of my backpack. “I’m going to try and catch Mr. Gosling before class starts.”

  “Good idea,” Lauren agreed.

  I turned to go—and a hand reached out from nowhere and snatched my glasses off.

  I spun around and dropped the poster. It unrolled on the floor.

  “Hey! I can’t see!” I yelled. “Give me my glasses back!”

  The twins! Those jerks! They had my glasses. They always steal my glasses. They know I can’t see without them.

  I can’t wait to teach those twins a lesson, I fumed.

  I heard the twins snorting and giggling all the way up the stairs. They were in Mr. Gosling’s class, too. I’d get my glasses back then. But first, I had to find Mr. Gosling.

  “Come on, Wes,” Lauren interrupted my thoughts. “The bell’s about to ring.”

  I squatted down next to the poster. I wanted to roll it up right away. It felt safer that way.

  I tried not to peer directly at the poster. It still scared me—a lot. Instead, I glanced at the tile floor next to the poster. But my eyes were drawn to the colored dots as I rolled it up.

  I glanced at it for only a second. But that’s all it took.

  There it stood.

  The mantis.

  Staring back at me—with its huge, wet, shiny eyes.

  I jumped back in horror and screamed, “It’s back! It’s back!” I couldn’t stop screaming. “It’s back!”

  “Wes! Wes! What’s wrong?” Lauren cried.

  I couldn’t answer. I could only stare. Stare at the mantis as it fought its way out of the poster.