by R. L. Stine
I saw Dan shiver again.
“It’s a wooden dummy,” I told him. “It isn’t a person. It’s an evil wooden dummy.”
We both shoved hard at the same time.
The dummy slid off the stone wall and dropped into the well.
Dan and I both waited until we heard the splash from far below.
Then we ran side by side back to the house.
He’s gone! I thought gratefully. Joyfully. The evil thing is gone for good.
I slept really well that night. And I didn’t dream about dummies.
The next morning, Dan and I met in the hall. We both were smiling. We felt so good.
I was actually singing as I followed Dan down the stairs for breakfast.
Dad greeted us at the kitchen door with an angry frown. “What is he doing down here?” Dad demanded.
He pointed into the kitchen.
Pointed at the breakfast table.
Pointed to Slappy, sitting at the breakfast table, grinning his ugly painted grin, his eyes wide and innocent.
26
Dan’s mouth dropped open.
I let out a sharp cry.
“Don’t act stunned. Just get him out of here,” Dad said angrily. “And why is he all wet? Did you have him out in the rain?”
I glanced out the kitchen window. Lightning flashed through a dark gray sky. Sheets of rain pounded the glass. Thunder rumbled overhead.
“Not a very nice morning,” Uncle Cal said, stepping up behind Dan and me.
“I’ve got coffee ready,” Dad told him.
“I see your friend here beat us down to breakfast,” Uncle Cal said, motioning to Slappy.
The dummy’s grin seemed to grow wider.
“Get him out of here, Trina,” Dad repeated sharply. “Anyone want pancakes this morning?” He moved to the cabinet and started searching for a frying pan.
“Make a few extra for me. I’m starving,” Uncle Cal said. “I’ll go see if Zane is up.” He turned and hurried out of the kitchen.
Dad leaned into the cabinet, banging pots and pans, searching for the one he always used for pancakes.
“Dad, I have to tell you something,” I said softly. I couldn’t hold it in any longer. I had to tell Dad the truth. I had to tell him the whole story.
“Dad, Slappy is evil,” I told him. “He’s alive, and he’s evil. Dan and I threw him down the well last night. We had to get rid of him. But now—he’s back. You have to help us, Dad. We have to get rid of him—now.”
I took a deep breath and let it out. It felt so good to get the story off my chest.
Dad pulled his head from the cabinet and turned to me. “Did you say something, Trina? I was making such a racket, I couldn’t hear you.”
“Dad, I-I—” I stammered.
“Get that dummy out of here—now!” Dad shouted. He stuck his head back into the cabinet. “How can a whole frying pan disappear into thin air?”
I let out a disappointed sigh. A loud burst of thunder made me jump.
I motioned with my head for Dan to help me. We lifted Slappy off the chair. I held him around the waist, as far away from me as possible.
His gray suit was sopping wet. Water dripped off his black leather shoes.
We were halfway up the attic stairs when Slappy blinked and let out a soft chuckle. “Nice try, slaves,” he rasped. “But give up. I’m never going away. Never!”
27
What a dreary morning.
Rain pounded the windows. Lightning crackled through the charcoal-gray sky. Thunder boomed so close it rocked the house.
I felt as if the storm were inside my head. As if the heavy, heavy storm clouds were weighing me down. As if the thunder erupted inside my brain, drowning out my thoughts.
Dan and I slumped on the couch in the den, watching the storm through the Venetian blinds over the big window. We were trying to come up with an idea, a way to get rid of Slappy.
The room was chilly. Damp, cold air leaked through the old window. I rubbed the sleeves of my sweater, trying to warm myself.
We were alone in the house. Mom, Dad, Uncle Cal, and Zane had gone into town.
“I tried to tell Dad,” I said. “You heard me, Dan. I tried to tell him about Slappy. But he didn’t hear me.”
“Dad wouldn’t believe you anyway, Trina,” Dan replied glumly. He sighed. “Who would believe it?”
“How can a wooden dummy come to life?” I asked, shaking my head. “How?”
And then I remembered.
And then I had an idea.
I jumped up from the couch. I tugged my brother by the arm. “Come on.”
He pulled back. “Where?”
“To the attic. I think I know how to put Slappy to sleep—for good.”
I stopped at the attic door and held Dan back. “Be very quiet,” I instructed him. “Maybe Slappy is asleep. If he’s asleep, my plan will go a whole lot better.”
Thunder roared as I opened the door. I led the way up the stairs, moving slowly, carefully, one step at a time. I could hear the rain pounding down on the roof. And I could see the flicker of lightning on the low ceiling.
I stopped as I reached the top of the stairs and turned toward the dummy collection. A flash of lightning through the window cast the shadows of their heads on the wall. As the lightning flickered, the shadows all seemed to be moving.
Dan stepped up behind me. “Here we are. Now what?” he whispered.
I raised a finger to my lips and began to tiptoe across the floor. Thunder boomed. It sounded so much louder up here under the roof!
When Dan and I dragged Slappy up here this morning, we had tossed him down on the floor. We were too freaked and frightened to spend the time propping him up on his chair. We just wanted to dump him and get away from the attic.
I saw Slappy in the flickering white lightning. Lying on his back in the center of the floor. The other dummies sat around him, grinning their silent grins.
I took a step closer. And then another. Moving as silently as I could.
I peered down at the evil dummy. His arms were at his sides. His legs were twisted around each other.
And his eyes were closed.
Yes!
His eyes were closed. He was asleep.
I took another few steps toward Slappy. But I felt Dan’s hand on my arm, tugging me back. “Trina—what are you going to do?” he whispered.
My eyes darted to Slappy. Still asleep. Thunder roared all around. It sounded as if we were standing in the middle of it.
“Remember those weird words I read?” I whispered to my brother, keeping my eyes on the evil dummy. “Remember those weird words on that slip of paper?”
Dan thought for a moment. Then he nodded.
“Well, maybe it was those words that brought him to life,” I whispered. “Maybe it’s some kind of secret chant.”
Dan shrugged. “Maybe.” He didn’t sound too hopeful.
“I saw you tuck that slip of paper back into Slappy’s jacket pocket,” I told my brother. “I’m going to take it out and read the words again. Maybe the same words that bring him to life will also put him back to sleep.”
Of course it was a crazy idea.
But a dummy coming to life was crazy, too. And a dummy trying to turn you into his slave was crazy.
It was all crazy. So maybe my idea was just crazy enough to work.
“Good luck,” my brother whispered, his eyes on the sleeping dummy on the floor.
I made my way over to Slappy.
I knelt down on my knees beside him.
I took a deep breath and held it. Then slowly, slowly, I began to reach my hand down to his jacket pocket.
I knew the slip of paper was inside that pocket. Could I pull it out without waking up Slappy?
I lowered my hand. Lowered it.
My fingers touched the top of the jacket pocket.
Still holding my breath, I began to slip two fingers inside.
“Gotcha!” Slappy shrieked as his hands sh
ot up. He grabbed both of my wrists and began to squeeze.
28
I was so stunned, I nearly fell on top of him.
As I struggled to keep my balance, his wooden hands dug into my wrists. They tightened around me, cutting into my skin.
“Let go of me!” I screamed. I struggled to pull my arms away. But he was too strong. Too strong.
The hard fingers dug into my wrists. They squeezed harder, harder—until they cut off all circulation.
“Let go of me! Let go!” My cry came out a shrill wail.
“I give the orders, ssssslave!” Slappy hissed. “You will obey me. Obey me forever! Or you will pay!”
“Let go! Let me go!” I shrieked. I tugged. I struggled to my feet. I jerked my arms up and down.
But Slappy didn’t loosen his hold.
His whole body bounced in the air. Hit the floor. Bounced back up as I pulled.
But his hands gripped even harder.
I couldn’t free myself. And the pain—the intense pain—shot down my arms. Down my sides. Down my whole body.
“Pick me up, sssslave!” the dummy hissed. “Pick me up and put me on my chair.”
“Let go!” I cried. “You’re breaking my wrists! Let go!”
The dummy uttered a cold laugh in reply.
The pain shot through my body. My legs wobbled. I dropped back to my knees.
I turned in time to see Dan dive toward us.
I thought he was going to grab the dummy’s hand and try to set me free.
Instead, Dan grabbed for the jacket pocket.
Slappy let go of my wrists. But not in time.
Dan pulled the slip of paper from the pocket.
Slappy swiped at Dan’s hand, trying to grab the paper away.
But Dan swung around. He unfolded the paper and raised it to his face. And then he shouted out the mysterious words that were written there:
“Karru marri odonna loma molonu karrano.”
Would it work?
Would it put Slappy back to sleep?
29
I rubbed my aching wrists and stared down at the grinning dummy.
He gazed back at me. And then winked.
His laughter roared over the thunder, over the hard, steady drumming of rain on the roof.
“You cannot defeat me that way, slave!” Slappy cried gleefully.
I took a step back. A chill ran down my back, making my whole body shudder.
My plan hadn’t worked.
My only plan. My last, desperate plan. A total failure.
I caught the disappointment on Dan’s face. The slip of paper fell from his fingers and floated to the floor.
“You will pay for this!” Slappy threatened. “You will pay for your foolish attempt to defeat me.”
He pushed his hands against the floor and started to climb to his feet.
I backed up.
And saw the other dummies move.
All of them. They were sliding off their chairs. Lowering themselves from the couch.
They stretched their skinny arms. Flexed their big, wooden hands.
Their heads bobbed, their knees bent as they started to shuffle toward us.
They had all come to life! Twelve dummies, brought to life by those strange words Dan had cried out.
Twelve dummies staggering toward Dan and me.
We were trapped between them. Trapped in the circle as they shuffled, dragging their heavy shoes. Their eyes wide. Locked on Dan and me.
As they staggered and shuffled. Moving stiffly, grinning, grinning so coldly.
Closing in on Dan and me.
30
Wilbur limped toward us, his big, chipped hands stretched out, ready to grab us. Lucy’s big blue eyes gleamed coldly as she staggered toward us. Arnie let out a high-pitched giggle as he pulled himself closer.
Closer.
Dan and I spun around. But we had nowhere to turn. Nowhere to escape.
The dummies’ big shoes scraped heavily over the wooden floorboards. Their knees bent with each step. They looked as if they would tumble to the floor.
But they kept coming. Lurching forward. Bodies bending. Heads bobbing.
Alive. Wooden creatures. Alive!
Dan raised his hands over his face as if to shield himself.
I took a step back. But the dummies behind me were closing in, too.
I took a long, deep breath and held it.
Then I waited.
Waited for their wooden hands to grab us.
I uttered a loud gasp as Wilbur and Arnie staggered right past me.
The dummies all brushed past Dan and me.
As if we weren’t there.
I stared in shock as they circled Slappy. I saw Rocky grab Slappy by the collar. I saw Lucy grab Slappy’s shoes.
Then the circle of dummies moved in closer. Tighter.
I couldn’t see what they were doing to Slappy. But I saw their skinny arms jerking and tugging. I saw them all struggling together.
Wrestling with him.
Were they pulling him apart?
I couldn’t see. But I heard Slappy’s scream of terror.
Dan and I clung to each other, watching the strange sight. It looked like a football huddle. A huddle of dummies.
The dummies grunted and groaned, muttering in low tones as they worked over Slappy.
We couldn’t see Slappy in the middle.
We heard only one scream.
We didn’t hear him scream again.
And then I heard the attic door open.
Footsteps on the stairs!
Someone was coming up.
31
I poked Dan and turned him to the stairs.
We both cried out as Zane climbed up to the attic and squinted across the long room at us.
Did he see the struggling dummies? Did he see that they were all alive?
I turned back—in time to see the dummies all collapse in a heap.
“Whoa!” I cried, my heart pounding. I blinked several times. I didn’t believe what I saw.
The twelve dummies lay lifeless on the floor, arms and legs in a wild tangle. Mouths open. Eyes gazing up blankly at the low ceiling.
Slappy lay sprawled in the middle. His head tilted to one side. I saw the blank stare in his eyes. Saw the open-mouthed, wooden grin.
He was completely lifeless now. As lifeless as all the others.
Had the other dummies somehow destroyed his evil?
Would Slappy remain a lifeless block of wood forever?
I didn’t have time to think about it. Zane came hurrying across the attic, an angry scowl on his face. His eyes were on the pile of dummies.
“Caught you!” Zane cried to Dan and me. “Caught you both! Planning your next trick! I knew you two were the ones! I’m telling Uncle Danny what you’re doing!”
32
Of course no one believed Dan and me.
Of course everyone believed Zane.
We were in the worst trouble of our lives. Dan and I were grounded forever. We probably won’t be allowed to leave the house until we are in our forties!
The next day, Zane and Uncle Cal were at the front door, saying good-bye. It’s a terrible thing to say—but Dan and I were not sad to see Zane go.
“I hope I never have to come back here,” he whispered to me in the hall. Then he put on a big, phony smile for Mom and Dad.
“Zane, what kind of camera would you like?” Dad asked, putting a hand on Zane’s shoulder. “You have a birthday coming up. I’d like to send you a new camera for your birthday.”
Zane shrugged his big shoulders. “Thanks,” he told my Dad. “But I’m really not into photography anymore.”
Mom and Dad raised their eyebrows in surprise.
“Well, what would you like for your birthday, Zane?” Mom asked. “Is there something else you’re interested in?”
Zane shyly lowered his eyes to the floor. “Well… I’d kind of like to try being a ventriloquist—like you, Uncle Danny.”
Dad beamed happily.
That creep Zane had said just the right thing.
“Maybe you have a spare dummy you can lend Zane,” Uncle Cal suggested.
Dad rubbed his chin. “Well… maybe I do.” He turned to me. “Trina, run up to the attic. And pick out a good dummy for Zane to take home. Not one of the old ones. But a nice one that Zane can enjoy.”
“No problem, Dad,” I replied eagerly. I hurried up to the attic. I hoped they didn’t see the enormous grin on my face.
Can you guess which dummy I picked out for Zane?
I know it’s horribly mean. But I really had no choice—did I?
“Here’s a good one, Zane,” I said a few seconds later. I placed the grinning dummy in Zane’s arms. “His name is Slappy. I think you two will be very happy together.”
I hope Zane has fun learning to be a ventriloquist.
But I have the feeling he may have a few problems. Because as Zane carried Slappy into the car, I saw the dummy wink at me.
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