Still More Tales For The Midnight Hour

by J. B. Stamper

  "There's enough room for me to hide here," he whispered. "All you have to do is cover for me. You decide right now whether or not you're going to be my friend."

  "Okay," Robbie said, "okay."

  Andrew took a quick look around the room and then slipped behind the curtains. Robbie walked away to join Mr. Archer and tell him the lie.

  Andrew woke up with a sudden start. For a moment, he wasn't sure where he was. Then he remembered... the wax museum. He was hiding behind the curtains in the wax museum. He must have fallen asleep earlier in the night because the air was so hot and musty. He pulled back the curtains to peer out.

  The museum was empty and closed. Only a few security lights shone on the exhibits. Andrew checked his watch. Two minutes after midnight. He wondered what had woken him at this hour. Just then, he heard a tapping of something against wood. He turned to look at the exhibit where Hitler stood. A feeling of sickening horror swept over him.

  Hitler was tapping a wooden map pointer against his desk. He was pointing around the room and talking to his officers. Andrew pinched himself hard to make sure he wasn't having a terrible nightmare. Just then, he saw Hitler's dark, beady eyes meet his. Hitler let out a scream and barked orders at his officers. Andrew watched with terror as they all began to move from the exhibit and climb over the railing into the room.

  Andrew scrambled to his feet and ran for the exit. He glanced back to see Hitler's angry face sneering at him. There was a red mark on his white face where Andrew had pulled off part of his mustache.

  Andrew raced down the narrow hallway through the other exhibits. His heart was pounding wildly, and his brain was slowly turning panicky. He fumbled in his pocket for the tuft of hair that he had pulled from Hitler's face. When he found it, he threw the hair on the floor and stumbled on.

  The pounding of the Germans' feet was loud behind him, but Andrew gained distance on them as he turned a corner in the aisle. Then, in front of him, he saw Napoleon. The emperor slowly drew his hand out of his jacket and reached for his sword. Andrew's stomach turned inside him as Napoleon pulled the sword from its sheath and leaped over the railing.

  Andrew remembered the pin he had stuck in the wax figure. Only the figure wasn't wax anymore. Napoleon was alive and breathing heavily only a few feet behind him. Andrew could hear the swish of the sword in the air and feel the cool breeze it made on his neck.

  In a wild panic, Andrew sped forward down the hallway. He knew that soon he would reach the entrance door to the museum. Perhaps a night guard would be there. Perhaps he could jump through a window to safety. Perhaps this nightmare would end if he could only escape through that wooden door.

  Then ahead of him he saw a huge figure step from the shadows. It was Henry VIII. He stood in the middle of the hallway, barring Andrew's path. With a cruel smile on his face, the king pointed a finger at Andrew.

  The next morning, Robbie led Mr. Archer and a guard into the museum. Robbie hadn't been able to sleep all night worrying about Andrew. Finally, he had called Mr. Archer and told him what Andrew had done.

  The guard flicked on all the lights around the exhibits. Robbie started to rush toward the room at the end of the museum where Andrew had hidden. But when he passed the exhibit with Henry VIII, he saw something that made him stop and scream.

  Anne Boleyn was no longer the figure kneeling beneath the executioner's ax. Andrew knelt there instead -- his face set in a strange expression of terror. And when Robbie reached out to touch him, he felt only the hard, cold smoothness... of wax.

  Tailypo

  There is a place in the mountains where few humans live. The woods around it are deep and dark. A thick fog often settles along the ridges and in the valleys. And weird creatures are said to prowl the land through the long, lonely nights.

  There is one old cabin built in a hollow in the farthest part of the deep, dark woods. A man named Jake had lived there for all of his sixty years. He seldom saw other people, and his only friends were his three hunting dogs. They lived under the porch of his log cabin.

  One winter night toward spring, Jake sat by his fireplace staring at the pot of beans simmering on the fire. It had been a hard winter, and Jake's food supply was almost gone. He felt as though his stomach had shrunk to the size of one of those hard beans in the pot. Even his dogs had grown thin and scrawny from hunger.

  As Jake reached his spoon toward the pot of beans, he felt a cold draft creep around his neck. It sent a shiver through his body. He wondered where the draft was coming from, for he had sealed up the cabin tight for the winter. But he was too hungry to worry about it. He dipped his spoon into the pot of beans. Before he could eat any, he felt another cold draft blowing across the cabin. This time, it felt like icy claws around his neck. Jake turned away from the fire to look around.

  His eyes widened in terror, and he dropped the spoon with a clatter on the floor. Sitting across the cabin from him was the weirdest creature he had ever seen. Its eyes were a bright yellow that seemed to burn from some strange heat. Its head looked like a wolf’s except for the ears that stuck up in high points above the leering face. Its body, which was about the size of one of Jake's dogs, was covered with a thick, reddish-brown fur. Then Jake noticed the strangest thing of all. The creature had a long, thick tail that wrapped all the way around its body.

  For a minute Jake sat frozen in his chair, and the creature crouched still on the floor. They stared at each other from across the room. Then, in a lightning fast move, Jake lunged for his hunting knife on the table. The creature sprang up and jumped for the hole it had clawed into the cabin wall. The animal was fast, but so was Jake. It was just jumping through the hole as Jake's knife came down at it. With a clean slice, the knife cut off the creature's long, thick tail.

  There was a horrible screech that cut through the night air. Then the animal ran off into the deep, dark woods. Jake stared at the thick tail lying on the floor of his cabin. His stomach rumbled with hunger. It was meat, like any other part of an animal, and he hadn't had meat for weeks.

  Jake put a big kettle of water onto the fire to boil. Then he cooked the long, thick tail and ate it for his supper. It tasted a bit strange, but there was a lot of it. Jake even fed the scraps that were left to his three dogs. As he watched them eat, he thought of the weird creature again. He decided to keep his dogs with him in the cabin for the night.

  Before he went to bed, Jake plugged up the hole in the cabin wall with a piece of wood and rags. Then he settled down to sleep, with his three dogs under his bed.

  Even though he was exhausted, Jake couldn't go to sleep. His stomach was rumbling from the strange meal. And the wind had pickled up outside and was whistling around the cabin.

  Then Jake heard a scratching noise outside his door. It was the sound of claws scraping against the wood. And over the whistling of the wind, he heard a weird voice calling, "Tailypo, Tailypo, give me back my Tailypo."

  Jake bolted upright in bed. The claws were scratching on the door even louder. And again he heard the weird call, "Tailypo, Tailypo, give me back my Tailypo."

  The dogs under his bed began to growl, and Jake whistled them out. He rushed to the cabin door, threw it open, and sent the dogs out after the creature.

  There were terrible screeches and howls as the dogs chased the creature into the dark woods. Jake waited and listened. After ten minutes, two of the dogs came panting back to the cabin. But no matter how hard Jack called, the third dog never returned from the woods.

  Jake bolted the door and went back to bed with the two dogs lying underneath him. Again his stomach rumbled from his strange meal, and the wind whistled around the cabin.

  Then Jake heard a scratching noise outside his door. It was the sound of claws scraping against the wood. And the weird voice started up again, "Tailypo, Tailypo, give me back my Tailypo."

  Jake shrunk back into the bed and covered his head with a blanket. But the weird voice came even louder. "Tailypo, Tailypo, give me back my Tailypo. You have got it; tha
t I know. Give me back my Tailypo."

  The two dogs under the bed were growling, and Jake whistled them out. Again he threw open the door, and the dogs went bounding out after the creature.

  With loud screeching and howling, the dogs chased the animal into the woods. Jake waited and listened. Soon he saw just one dog running back to the cabin in the moonlight. The dog whimpered as Jake let it in the door; then it ran under the bed and hid.

  Jake bolted the door and crawled in bed. But he hadn't even shut his eyes before he heard the scratching of claws on the door. And the weird voice said, "Tailypo, Tailypo, give me back my Tailypo."

  Jake jumped out of bed and whistled for his last dog. It growled from under the bed and wouldn't come out. Finally Jake dragged it out and pulled it to the door. He opened the door and forced the dog out after the creature.

  There was a short howl and then a long screech. Jake waited and listened. After ten minutes, he opened the door and called for the dog. But nothing came back out of the dark woods around the cabin.

  Jake slammed the door shut quickly, bolted it, and jumped into his bed. He was shivering hard, but the blankets didn't seem to make him warmer. He waited and waited. The wind whistled louder around the cabin. Jake strained his ears to hear the sound of claws scratching on the door. He waited for the weird voice. He heard nothing but the sound of the wind. Jake waited and listened. Then finally he fell asleep.

  With a start, Jake woke up. He heard the sound of claws scratching against wood. But this time, the sound was closer and louder.

  Jake's eyes flew open and met the burning yellow eyes staring at him from the end of his bed. The creature sat there, scratching its claws against the bedpost.

  "Tailypo, Tailypo, give me back my Tailypo," it said in its weird voice.

  "I... I... don't have it," Jake stammered.

  The creature crawled forward on the bed. Its face was only a foot from Jake's.

  "Tailypo, Tailypo, give me back my Tailypo. You have got it; that I know. Give me back my Tailypo!"

  Jake was never seen in the hills again. And the mountain folk say that if you are all alone at night and listen carefully, you can hear a weird voice calling on the wind:

  "Tailypo, Tailypo, now I have my Tailypo!"

  Words of Warning

  Peter had been in Greenfield for only one day when he heard the story. The old man who told it to him had acted strange, but the story was stranger yet. Peter didn't believe in things like ghosts or haunted houses... but it gave him the creeps to think about them.

  The old man, whose name was Charlie, had warned him not to go near an abandoned house that was nearby. In the past five years, five boys and girls had last been seen walking toward it. They had disappeared into thin air. The only explanation was that the house was possessed by some strange power.

  Peter stood on the porch of the country inn where his family was staying, and he wished that he were home. His parents had driven for hours out of the city to spend the autumn weekend here. They had come to see the fall leaves that turned spectacular colors in this remote part of New England.

  Looking at the leaves already bored Peter, and he couldn't get his mind off Charlie's strange story. Charlie was the gardener for the inn. He said that he'd noticed Peter's hair right away when he had arrived at the inn. That had made Peter uncomfortable, because he didn't like people noticing his red hair.

  Charlie said he didn't warn every boy or girl who stopped at the inn about the story, but he felt obliged to tell Peter. The owners of the inn refused to talk about the five boys and girls who had disappeared. They worried that it would be bad for business.

  Peter decided he couldn't stand around another second. He ran down the steps of the porch and started down the driveway leading away from the inn. He knew his parents wouldn't miss him. They had left the inn an hour ago to take a walk in the woods. They had carried along their binoculars just in case they sighted an interesting bird. Peter had turned down their invitation to join them. He wasn't interested in bird watching, and he didn't care about the red, orange, and yellow leaves he was kicking as he walked down the lane.

  Several yards ahead, Peter saw a fork in the road. The way leading off to the left was the more traveled road that his father had driven down as they came up to the inn. The way to the right narrowed down to a footpath through a thick stand of trees. A slight tingle ran down Peter's spine as he realized his mind was made up. He was going to take the path to the right, the path that led to the old house that Charlie had told him to stay away from.

  As Peter walked down the path, he noticed that the leaves covering it looked undisturbed, as if no one had walked there before him. Yet the path was easy to follow as it cut through the trees and thick undergrowth on the forest floor. Peter suddenly got an eerie feeling at the back of his neck and turned quickly around. But the only thing he saw was a pair of red leaves drifting slowly down to the ground.

  Peter walked on for fifteen minutes, looking ahead and seeing nothing but more trees. He began to wonder if the old man had played a joke on him, a kid from the city. But then he came to a wide clearing in the trees, and standing there, like a scene from a horror movie, was a gray-shingled, dilapidated house.

  A whirlwind of leaves suddenly blew around in front of Peter as a cloud passed over the sun. The colors of the leaves faded without the sunlight, and the house seemed to cast a shadow over everything around it.

  Peter pushed back the feeling of panic that had started growing in his mind. He took a few more steps toward the house. It was an old, rambling, three-story structure with a porch all around it. Many of its windows were broken. The porch sagged at a sickening angle, and the shutters hung crookedly on their hinges.

  Peter thought about his friends back home. They would love hearing his story about this house. But they would ask if he'd gone inside. And if he said no, they would call him a chicken.

  Peter tried not to think too much and began to walk up to the house with quick strides. But the old man's story kept coming back into his mind. The strange story seemed more real now that he was standing in front of the house. He hesitated before setting his foot on the first step of the stairs leading up to the porch.

  The wind had died down and there wasn't a sound except the occasional call of a bird in the woods. Peter stood there, undecided. He heard a faint noise inside the house. It grew a little louder, a strange kind of noise he'd never heard before. Then a weird sensation came over him. He felt drawn toward the house as though something were pulling him inside. Unwillingly, his right foot went forward and stepped up onto the first step. Peter screamed and pulled his body back. He scrambled back from whatever power had come over him and ran into the woods. He tore along the path, bumping into trees and scratching himself on branches. Ten minutes later, he ran up to the inn, where his mother and father were sitting on the porch.

  "Peter, what happened?" his mother asked.

  "Nothing," Peter gasped, his heart pounding in his ears, "just nothing."

  The next day, more guests arrived at the inn. Peter sat on the porch and watched them as they unpacked their cars and settled in. One family had two boys near his age. They came out on the porch and introduced themselves right away. Brian, who was tall and skinny and had dark brown hair, was fourteen. Jeff, who was short and stocky and had blond hair, was twelve. Peter noticed the old gardener Charlie staring at them from the yard, but he just kept raking leaves.

  "So, what's there to do around here?" Jeff said. "My parents brought us up here to look at leaves. So here are the leaves. What do we do now?"

  "There isn't even a television in our room," Brian said. "I can't believe we're stuck here for a whole weekend."

  "What have you been doing?" Jeff asked. "Watching birds?"

  Peter sat up straight. He could tell them something exciting.

  "I went to a haunted house yesterday," he said. "It's not far from here -- and it's really creepy."

  Jeff let out a high-pitched laugh. "You b
elieve in haunted houses? I can't take it!"

  Peter felt a blush creeping over his face. "I'll how you where it is," he said. "You can see for yourself."

  "Great, we'll meet you on the front steps in half an hour," Brain said. "Right after we unpack."

  "In half an hour," Peter repeated. As they walked away, he looked out at Charlie raking the leaves. He wondered why Charlie hadn't warned Jeff and Brian about the house.

  Half an hour later, Peter stood waiting by the front steps of the inn. He kicked a pile of leaves impatiently, wondering if Jeff and Brian would show up. He wished they would hurry. If Charlie happened to come around to the front, Peter didn't want him to see them going off in the direction of the old house.

  Finally the screen door of the inn slammed loudly and Jeff and Brian bounded down the steps at a run.

  "Lead the way," they yelled to Peter.

  The three boys ran off down the land and, at the fork, took the path to the right that led to the old house. Peter was running in the lead, with the two boys close behind him. As the path grew more narrow, they slowed their pace to a walk.

  "Were you kidding us about this house?" Jeff asked as they walked through the carpet of leaves that had grown even thicker.

  "It's here, all right," Peter said. He knew the house was only a few minutes away, because his chest had started to grow heavy with anxiety.

  Soon they walked out into the clearing around the house. Peter looked at the house, hulking like a dark giant among the brightly colored trees, and shuddered.

  "Wow," Jeff whispered. "It looks haunted all right!"

  "Let's go," Brian yelled, starting toward the house at a run. Jeff ran quickly after him.

  "No, wait!" Peter screamed. He stayed where he was at the edge of the clearing. The other boys turned around and stared at him.