The Haunting

by Rodman Philbrick

  It wasn’t over.

  The room suddenly got cold. The temperature dropped swiftly and Sally’s teeth were soon chattering. It was like the North Pole in there! I grabbed the blanket off her bed and wrapped us both in it. I was shivering, too, fighting off the incredible cold.

  Ice formed on the window and our breath filled the room with fog. I felt around under the bed for Sally’s sweater and brought it under the blanket.

  “Here, Sally, let’s get this on you.” She was already stiff with cold and I had to lift each of her arms to get the sweater on.

  The instant I let go of the blanket it flew off. The blanket fluttered about the room. As it settled, a small form took shape under it.

  I could make out a head, shoulders—it was a child!

  Noises started to come from under the blanket as if whoever was huddled under it was trying to speak.

  “Can you hear what he’s saying, Sally?” I asked. “Is that Bobby?”

  But Sally was shivering too much to pay attention to anything.

  The little figure continued to move around under the blanket, struggling to make itself heard. But I couldn’t make out a word.

  It was Bobby—who else could it be? And this was my chance to catch him and find out what he wanted. Find out why he was haunting the house.

  I waited until the shape came close to Sally’s bed, then pounced, arms outstretched.

  I landed on the floor on an empty blanket. The apparition had vanished.

  I lay there for a second, feeling totally defeated.

  Until Sally shouted excitedly. “Look! The doors!”

  32

  I sat up. A second ago we’d been trapped in a room that had no doors. Now it had too many. There was a row of doors running the length of the wall.

  The house was trying to trick us again, but I was pretty sure I knew which one was the real door, Sally’s old door.

  “Stay there, Sally,” I said. “While I check.”

  I went to the familiar-looking door and reached for the knob.

  It sprouted teeth and snapped at my fingers.

  I whipped my hand back and jumped away.

  I realized this was a sort of test. We might find the way out—if I chose the right door.

  But how would I know?

  I could start by touching the doorknobs and seeing what happened. Not with my hand, of course—I didn’t want to get my fingers chomped off. I looked around for something to use.

  Sally’s baton. She was too little to learn how to twirl it, anyway. I grabbed the baton and went to the first door. No, the right door would never be the first door. Too obvious.

  I took a deep breath and, before I could lose my nerve, reached out with the baton and touched the knob of the second door.

  Nothing happened.

  I pushed at the knob until it clicked. The door opened and sunlight filled the room. Green grass sloped down to the pine trees. My heart leaped for joy—we could escape to the backyard.

  “Come on, Sally,” I cried. “We’re out of here!”

  I picked her up from the bed and started through the door.

  With one foot over the threshold, I hesitated.

  Wait a minute. It was sunny out there. But it should be dark. It was night, it was supposed to be dark.

  My foot sank down into empty space. I jumped back and the vision of the sunny backyard winked out in an instant. On the other side of the door loomed a dark, vast, bottomless pit.

  And we’d almost fallen for it—fallen right into it!

  I slammed the door and stood there shaking, clutching hold of Sally.

  “That was a close one,” I muttered. “How do I decide which one to try next?”

  I sat down on the bed with Sally, and tried to think it through. Which door? One of them led to safety, I would stake my life on it.

  The house wasn’t going to wait for me to make up my mind. The room started to shake. Then the bed tipped and threw us to the floor.

  Sally started to cry. The air grew thick with menace. Something was coming to get us. Something worse than anything we’d seen so far.

  We had to get out. But which door?

  33

  Sally yanked at my arm. “Come on, Jason, I want to go,” she cried. “Look!”

  One of the doors opened slowly, as if pushed by an invisible hand.

  “Get me out of here, Jason, please!” cried Sally, tugging me along.

  The floor bucked harder, as if trying to prevent us from reaching the open door.

  All that showed on the other side of the door was blackness. I couldn’t see a thing. We might be leaving this terrible place for something worse. I pulled Sally back.

  “It’s Bobby,” cried Sally, trying to wriggle out of my arms. I clutched her tighter. “He says we should hurry.”

  The room shook us like dice in a cup. I couldn’t hold on to Sally. She got away from me and ran to the door.

  “Sally, no!” I cried.

  How could we trust Bobby? It was Bobby who’d taken Sally to the attic. Sure, he’d also provided the trapdoor in the nick of time but then he had imprisoned us in this room. He wanted to keep Sally with him forever, I was sure of it.

  Sally hesitated at the door, looking back at me. “Come on, Jason, it’s all right,” she pleaded. She stumbled back to me over the heaving floor and grabbed my hand. “Come on.”

  Her eyes were shining. Sally truly believed that Bobby would rescue us. Maybe she was right. And what other chance did we have, anyway?

  As I started to rise, the floor bucked and I went down on one knee, hard. Sally helped me up and I followed her to the open door.

  Now or never. This might be the end for both of us. We’d be trapped for eternity.

  I held Sally’s hand tight as we stepped through the door into the darkness.

  Suddenly we were on a winding stairway, going down. There was just enough light to see the next step. I couldn’t tell where we were going but Sally kept trying to skip ahead of me, giddy with relief to be out of her haunted room.

  My throat was tight with fear. The stairs seemed to go on forever. Where was Bobby taking us?

  A child’s laughter floated up from somewhere below. My stomach clenched at the sound, but Sally joined in, laughing as if all this was a delightful game.

  The smell of green grass and pine came drifting up the stairs. It smelled clean and safe and real. A part of me started to hope our night of terror was over. Sally pulled at me to go faster.

  We reached the bottom. Another door stood open and a fresh breeze beckoned.

  Still hesitant, I moved cautiously forward. I poked my head out the doorway.

  We were in the backyard! For real, this time.

  “Go to the tree,” whispered a child’s voice beside my ear. “You’ll be safe by the tree.”

  I jumped and looked all around but I couldn’t see anybody there.

  “Come on, Jason,” Sally demanded, hopping up and down.

  I let Sally lead the way to the cherry tree. I looked back at the house and was startled to see a little boy standing in the doorway we’d just come through.

  A little boy. And I could see right through him.

  The child waved and smiled and then the boy and the doorway both vanished.

  Sally lay down on the grass under the cherry tree and was asleep in an instant. I was still awake and guarding her when the sun broke over the horizon.

  We had survived.

  34

  A cold hand gripped my shoulder. I bolted upright, instantly alert. “Mom!”

  Sally rubbed her eyes and blinked in the sunshine.

  “You two gave me a fright,” said Mom, sounding really worried. “I checked your rooms this morning and you weren’t there. What are you doing out here?”

  Dad appeared over her shoulder. “Well?” he said. “Is this some kind of game, Jason?”

  Why were they acting like everything was normal?

  “Is everything all right inside?” I asked. “
Anything broken?”

  “What?” said Dad, looking puzzled. “Of course everything’s all right. What shouldn’t be all right?”

  “I don’t know,” I mumbled, thinking of the overturned furniture, smashed mirrors and vases and lamps, broken crockery. I should have known it would all be back in place now, because the house didn’t want my parents to know what was going on.

  Dad took me aside. He looked stern. “If you’re frightening your sister with this ghost nonsense, I’ll be very disappointed in you, young man,” he said.

  I knew it was no use trying to tell them what had happened. They’d think I was making it up.

  Mom bent down to Sally’s level. “What were you scared of, honey? Was it Bobby?”

  Sally looked at me and pushed out her lower lip. “I’m not scared of Bobby,” she said stoutly. “Bobby is my friend.”

  “She, ah, she had a nightmare,” I said. “I woke up and it was hot, so we decided to come out for a minute. I guess we fell asleep.”

  Mom sighed and stood up. “Let’s go in and have breakfast.”

  “Nightmares are hungry business,” said Dad, scooping up Sally and putting her on his shoulders. She squealed with glee as he trotted toward the house, playing horse.

  Now it was Mom’s turn to look stern and serious. “It isn’t more of this ghost business, is it, Jason? I don’t want to be worrying about you while we’re gone.”

  I stopped in my tracks and stared at her. “Gone? Where are you going?”

  “We got a call late last night,” said Mom. “Remember that firehouse we designed for Mayfield last spring? Apparently they’re having some problems with construction and they need us to go take a look at the site and make some changes.”

  “You have to leave?”

  Mom nodded. “We’ll be gone a week or so and we have to leave today—as soon as possible. But I don’t want to leave you here if you’re scared.”

  “Scared? Of course I’m not scared.” That was partly true. I wasn’t scared when I was outside the house, in broad daylight. “I’m just, ah, I’m worried about Sally and her invisible playmate.”

  Mom smiled. “Then I can trust you to keep a close eye on her while we’re gone?”

  “Sure, Mom. Of course you can.”

  “Good. Then let’s eat before the baby-sitter gets here.”

  “Baby-sitter?”

  Mom gave me a look. “I know you’re getting pretty big, Jason, but I still can’t leave you to handle a five-year-old all by yourself. The babysitter’s name is Katie. She’s seventeen and she comes highly recommended.”

  The last thing I wanted was a bossy baby-sitter, but as I followed Mom into the house I tried to convince myself that maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

  Mom and Dad would never let me and Sally camp out under the cherry tree every night. But maybe I could talk the baby-sitter into it.

  Maybe she’d believe me.

  35

  The baby-sitter, Katie Lawrence, had kind of skinny legs but other than that she was pretty. Her hair was red and thick and came down to her shoulders. She had this little sprinkling of freckles on her nose and she smiled a lot.

  She grinned at me when we were introduced and she didn’t seem bothered by the fact that Sally was scowling at her.

  I showed her around the house while my parents finished packing. Wouldn’t you know, all the rooms looked sunny and pleasant in the late morning light. You’d never know what had happened the night before, or what was likely to happen again, as soon as the sun went down.

  “What a neat old place,” said Katie as we came back downstairs. “I always wanted to see what this house looked like on the inside. It was shut up for so many years we used to dare each other to come here on Halloween.”

  “Did anything ever happen?” I asked carefully. “On Halloween, I mean.”

  Katie’s laughter rang out. “Of course not, silly. Although we never did anything more than run up and peek in the windows. I thought I saw a light one time,” she added, winking at me. “Like a candle, flickering in the attic.”

  Just then my dad called me upstairs to help with the suitcases.

  We loaded the suitcases into the station wagon and when we got back to the house Mom was giving Sally a hug and going over instructions with Katie one last time.

  “Don’t hesitate to call us if there’s any problem,” she said again.

  Dad cocked an eyebrow at Katie. “You don’t believe in ghosts, do you?” he asked with a smile.

  Katie giggled. “No, of course not. There’s no such thing as ghosts. Why? Is this house haunted?”

  She laughed like it was a pretty good joke.

  “Jason thinks so,” said Dad, giving me a look. “But maybe you can convince him.”

  I felt my face going red.

  I said good-bye to Mom and Dad and they climbed into the car. I held Sally’s hand as they drove away.

  A moment later the car turned the corner and they were gone.

  Katie went back into the house, saying she wanted to unpack her things. “You know, there is something spooky about this house,” she called back. “I think I’m going to really like it here!”

  I shivered at her carefree tone. We were on our own. Just me and Sally and a new baby-sitter who thought ghosts were cool.

  And I was the only one who knew what was going on. Or did I, really?

  I turned to Sally and smiled comfortingly. “You and me better keep an eye on that baby-sitter, make sure she doesn’t get in any trouble she can’t handle, right?”

  That’s when I noticed that something was wrong with Sally’s face. Her expression was stiff and her eyes were blank. As if she was in a trance or something.

  A chill ran through me.

  “Sally?” My voice was shaky.

  Sally’s head jerked to one side and then the other, like a puppet. Her eyes smoldered and glowed.

  I fought the urge to leap away from her.

  Then she opened her mouth and spoke. “I’m not Sally.”

  The voice that came out of her mouth was rough, as if it hadn’t been used in a long time. And it had a hollow ring. As if it was coming from the inside of an empty tomb.

  Sally’s face scowled at me and the strange voice growled again. “My name is Bobby,” she said. “And I’ve been dead for a long time.”

  I was paralyzed. I wanted to run. I wanted to scream.

  My little sister was possessed.

  Turn the page to continue reading from the House on Cherry Street series

  1

  The baby-sitter didn’t believe in ghosts. “Don’t be silly,” she said. “There’s no such thing as a haunted house.”

  Her name was Katie, and she was a teenager with red hair and an attitude—meaning she thought I was a total dweeb for trying to tell her about the ghosts in the house on Cherry Street.

  “Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” I said stubbornly.

  She smirked at me and then shaded her eyes, looking up at the decaying mansion my family had rented for the summer. “What a place!” she said. “It really is kind of spooky looking.”

  My parents didn’t believe in ghosts, either, and they’d left Katie in charge while they went away on a business trip. Not that I needed a babysitter or anything. At twelve I can pretty much look after myself. But my little sister Sally was only four and the ghosts were very interested in her.

  “I better go inside,” Katie announced cheerfully. “Check things out.”

  And then she marched up the steps and walked right through the door of that creepy old house as if nothing could possibly hurt her.

  Maybe it couldn’t. Maybe the haunting would be as invisible to her as it had been to my parents, who blamed everything on my “overactive” imagination.

  Maybe. But I didn’t think so.

  As the door shut behind Katie the glass in the windows shivered. And so did I.

  “Sally?” I said, calling to my little sister. “We better go in, too.”
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br />   That’s when I noticed that something was wrong with Sally’s face. Her expression was stiff and her eyes were blank. As if she was in a trance or something.

  A chill zapped me.

  “Sally?” My voice was shaky.

  Sally’s head jerked to one side and then the other, like a puppet. Her eyes smoldered and glowed.

  I fought the urge to leap away from her.

  Then she opened her mouth and spoke. “I’m not Sally.”

  The voice that came out of her mouth was rough, as if it hadn’t been used in a long time. And it had a hollow ring. As if it was coming from the inside of an empty tomb.

  Sally’s face scowled at me and the strange voice growled again. “My name is Bobby and I’m dead,” she said.

  I was paralyzed. I wanted to run. I wanted to scream.

  My little sister was possessed!

  2

  Her face was like a mask. A mask that looked just like my little sister. Except for the eyes.

  “Sally?” I said. “Please talk to me.”

  Her face scowled at me. Out of her mouth came that strange rough voice again. “I’m not Sally. My name is Bobby and I’m dead, dead, dead!”

  She danced away, taunting me.

  “Where’s my sister?” I demanded.

  I recognized the voice coming from Sally. I’d heard it night after night, crying in the hallway outside my room. It was the voice of a child ghost and I had never figured out what it wanted.

  But lately I suspected what it wanted was Sally. And now it had her.

  “My name is Bobby,” it repeated, and Sally danced farther away from me.

  I shivered, remembering when I’d first seen the ghost. It was the first day we arrived. We were driving up the long driveway under the tall whispery pines and I saw his pale, sad face.

  A little boy peering at us from the attic windows. Little Bobby, who’d been dead for years and years.

  Of course, no one believed me then.

  They still didn’t believe me. And the ghost had been careful to make sure they wouldn’t. Now he had taken possession of my sister.

  “Let me talk to Sally,” I demanded, my voice cracking with fright.