by R. L. Stine
I can’t stop. I can’t help myself.
I can’t …
I edged my body forward and pulled the sleeping bag toward me. It was hard to see. I wished I’d remembered to turn on the closet light.
I tugged the sleeping bag around and reached my arm into the opening. My heart started to leap around in my chest, and I broke into an instant sweat.
I spread open the sleeping bag and forced my hand in deeper. And my fingers wrapped around the mask. I slid it out carefully and turned it to face me. Even in the dim closet light, I could see its grim expression … its angry scowl.
I couldn’t help myself. I couldn’t resist it.
I raised it closer, gazing at the ugly carved head poking from its forehead. And then I gasped as the mask spun in my hands and slammed itself over my face.
So warm. The wood of the mask felt as warm as human skin.
Once again, I heard voices rising and falling, distant voices in a drone of static. I gasped as I saw Amanda. She stepped forward from a billowing gray fog. Her eyes were wide. She had a smile on her face that I’d never seen before.
“Amanda?” I tried to call to her. But the mask was too tight around my face.
I could still feel the pull of the mask, drawing me inside, tugging my head, pulling me toward Amanda and the gray fog curtain behind her.
She raised a finger and signaled to me. Come closer. She was telling me to come to her. Her finger moved in slow-motion.
She had that strange smile on her face, frozen there, her lips glowing in the gray light.
“NOOOO!” A scream escaped my throat. “You’re not Amanda! You’re not the real Amanda!”
I knew the mask was making me see her. The mask was pulling me into a dream, like the dinner with the cow tongue and oyster soup.
“You’re not real! I’m not coming to you. I don’t want to be here. Let me OUT!”
I raised both hands to the sides of the mask — and pried it off my face.
Somehow I found the strength to pull it away, to fight the powerful force that was tugging me into the foggy world of the mask.
I gripped the mask in two hands, staring down at its ugly painted face. My hands were shaking. My whole body was drenched in sweat.
There’s bad magic in this mask.
The words flashed through my mind as I struggled to catch my breath.
I knew I had to get the evil thing out of the house. But I needed it first. I needed it for my Halloween plan.
I wrapped it up in the long red scarf. Then I shoved it deep into the sleeping bag. I stuffed my muddy clothes under the sleeping bag and backed out of the closet.
I’ll return it after Halloween, I told myself. After the scariest Halloween party in the history of the world.
After dinner, I phoned Amanda and told her my plan. At first, she thought I was crazy. But after I explained more, she agreed it was bold. “It could work, Scott,” she said. “It definitely could work.”
That night, I couldn’t get to sleep. I twisted and squirmed under the covers, then on top of the covers. I tried counting backward from a thousand. I even tried counting sheep, like in the cartoons.
But I was wide awake. Too many thoughts swirling around in my head. Too many crazy ideas.
And so, I was still awake late that night when the white-haired old lady returned to my room.
She appeared in the doorway to my room. Behind her, the hall was dark. But I could see her clearly in the blue light from my night-light.
Yes, I have a night-light. Maybe I mentioned that I’m not the bravest person in the world? Well, I don’t see that it’s a big deal to want a little light in your room in case you wake up during the night.
The old woman’s hair was tinted blue in the light, and her pale face was almost completely hidden in shadow. Her long skirt rustled as she stepped into my room.
I kept my eyes open only a slit and pretended to be sound asleep. But I could see her clearly. She moved to my desk. Silently, carefully, she pulled open the top drawer. Then she slid it shut and tried the next drawer.
Was she looking for the mask?
I wanted to sit up and shout. I knew that would startle her.
But what would she do then?
A strong wave of fear kept me from moving.
In the pale glow from the night-light on the floor, I saw her expression. Tight-lipped. Angry. The blue eyes were black in the dim light. They gazed into the desk drawers without blinking.
Then she rustled across the room to my dresser. Again, she began to slide the drawers open, silently, one at a time.
I realized this was a dream when I saw her black shoes lift off from the floor. She floated halfway to the ceiling, and her arms became wings, long black feathery wings that flapped slowly, keeping her in the air.
In the dream, I felt relieved. I knew I was dreaming. I knew she hadn’t really returned. It was a weird nightmare, but I no longer felt afraid.
I watched her turn into a large crow, floating easily to the ceiling. Then she tossed back her head, her long beak glowing in the blue light. She opened her beak and let out a terrifying sound — a squawk and a laugh. A shrill bird cackle that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up and froze me in place. Even in the dream, the sound was so chilling, I couldn’t move.
Then she closed the beak and turned her feathery head. She returned to the floor, landing softly, silently. Her wings turned back to arms. I could see her head shrink back to a human head, her hair down to her shoulders.
She turned and moved to my closet. In the dream, I knew what would happen next. I knew she’d go into the closet and find the mask I had stolen.
And what would she do next?
I didn’t want to find out. I forced myself out of the dream.
Wake up, Scott. Wake up.
I sat up, blinking. Alert. The nightmare lingered in my mind.
I gazed around the room. No one there. No old woman. No giant black bird.
The morning sun, still red and low in the sky, washed in through my window. I stretched my arms above my head.
“Just a dream,” I murmured. “Just a weird, frightening nightmare.”
I took a deep breath.
“Hey!” I let out a cry.
And stared at the black feather on the blanket at the foot of my bed.
Saturday morning was a gray, cold day with swirling winds and dark clouds hanging low overhead. The perfect day to meet at the abandoned house across the street from the graveyard.
Amanda was waiting for me at the bottom of the front stoop, her parka hood up, her hands buried deep in the pockets. Her smile faded when she saw Rita tagging along with me.
“Rita is going to help us,” I said. “She promised me she’d cooperate and not try to scare us all the time and not be a pest.”
“That’s three promises,” Rita said. “I don’t remember making three promises.”
I scowled at her. “Do you want to help Amanda and me scare those three bullies, or not?”
A devilish smile crossed my sister’s face. “Will you buy me a huge box of YORK Peppermint Patties?”
Amanda laughed. “She wants a bribe.”
“Only kidding,” Rita said. “Don’t you two know when I’m joking?”
“This is serious,” Amanda told her. “We are about to enter a major horror-movie world. We don’t have time for jokes.”
Rita glanced from Amanda to me. “You two are weird,” she said. She raised her right hand. “I promise I’ll be good.”
A blast of wind made me shiver. It seemed to cut right through my coat. Across the street in the graveyard, crows began to caw in the branches of the bare trees. The sounds were raw and shrill, as if the big black birds were crying out to us, warning us away.
I shivered again. The crows reminded me of my nightmare the night before. “Let’s go in,” I said. I took a deep breath and led the way around to the side of the house.
We had trouble pushing the kitchen window open. I stru
ggled and strained and nearly toppled backward off the window ledge. Finally, the frame creaked, and I managed to shove it up high enough. All three of us carried big bags of supplies. We had to drop the bags into the house, then slide in after them.
Breathing hard, I took a moment to look around. Everything seemed just as we’d left it. A layer of dust covered everything. The light from outside barely seeped through the dirt-smeared windows.
We didn’t move. We listened hard. Silence. No wails or moans, no groans or creaks or squeaks.
“This place is gross,” Rita said, rubbing her fingers through the dust on the kitchen table. “Are you sure you want to have your party here?”
“It will be the scariest Halloween party ever,” I said.
And that was the plan.
To invite Mickey, Morty, and Kenji to the scariest Halloween party ever. In this dusty, creaky, smelly, rotting haunted house. And to make sure we terrified them out of their skins, my plan was to fill the place with scare after scare.
We walked through the dining room. The chandelier above the long table was almost hidden by cobwebs. At the end of the table, I could still see the rectangle shape in the dust where the box I’d stolen had stood.
The floorboards creaked as we stepped into the big front room. Morning sunlight struggled to wash in through the big windows that looked out onto the street.
Rita dropped her shopping bags of supplies and started to do a crazy dance. “Hey, I’m dancing in a haunted house. Think any ghosts are watching?”
“STOP!” Amanda and I both screamed at once.
Amanda stopped in mid-dance.
I pointed. “There’s a trapdoor right in front of you,” I said. “If you step on the floor there, the floor drops about six feet down.”
“Cool,” Rita said. “Can I try it?”
“No way,” I told her. “Stay away from it. We’re going to give our three guests a nice surprise on that trapdoor.”
She stuck her tongue out at me and made a spitting noise.
“Is that the way you cooperate?” I said.
She grinned. “Yes.”
Amanda frowned at Rita. “Scott, are you sure we need her?”
“She’s going to be the biggest scare of all,” I said. “Trust me. I have it all planned out.”
The wind howled outside, a burst so strong it made the front windows rattle. Amanda jumped. “This house is so scary in the daytime,” she said. “Can you imagine how scary it will be at night?”
“Let’s get to work,” I said. I bent down and started to pull things from the shopping bags. “First of all, these are spray cobwebs.” I held up the two cans. “We spray this stuff everywhere. And the cool thing is, the cobwebs have little plastic dead flies and spiders attached to them.”
“That’s definitely cool,” Rita said. She grabbed a can and sprayed cobwebs down the front of my coat.
I grabbed the can back and frowned at her. “Settle down, okay?”
I pulled out the large plastic bags of green slime. “We let this stuff ooze down the wall,” I said.
“I get it,” Amanda said. “Protoplasm, right? The stuff ghosts leave behind.”
I nodded. “Yeah. We tell our three ‘friends’ how fresh it looks. That means ghosts were here very recently.”
“I brought the laptop,” Amanda said. She opened it. “Listen to this.” She hit a few keys, and I heard low moans. Then a loud whispered voice: “Help meeeee. Helllp meee. Please … help meeeee.”
I knew it was a recording of Amanda whispering, but it still gave me a chill.
“We’ll put it under that old couch over there,” I said, pointing. “That’ll make them jump.”
“They’ll want to run home,” Amanda said. “They’ll want to get out of here as fast as they can.”
“And I’ll pretend we’re locked in,” I said. “I’ll act all terrified and panicky and keep trying the doors, and tell them someone locked us in.”
I unrolled a small carpet I’d brought. “I’m putting this over the trapdoor. They won’t be able to see the floorboards. When they step on the rug, down they’ll go.”
Amanda pulled long, filmy ghost figures from her bag. They were posters, but the ghosts glowed, which made them look 3-D. “We can hang one of these in the dining room.”
I lifted two jack-’o-lanterns from my bag. They were plastic, and when you pushed a button, they opened their mouths wide and started to laugh.
“The three jerks probably won’t get really scared till you start the explosions,” Rita said. She handed me my old iPod. I’d filled it with terrifying loud explosions and people screaming.
“When the explosions start, they’ll run for the door,” I said. “That’s when I pretend that the door is locked and we’re all trapped inside.”
Amanda shuddered. “It’s good. I’m getting scared, myself.”
“Is this when I do my thing?” Rita asked.
I nodded. “Yes. We’ve got the three guys in a panic, right? And then the final fright. Rita is all dressed in black — completely covered so no one can see her. She comes floating down the stairs wearing the evil death mask. All they can see is the mask floating on its own.”
Amanda laughed. “That will terrify them forever!”
“They’ll start crying like babies,” I said. “After Halloween night, they’ll be too embarrassed to bully us again.”
The three of us all cheered and shook our fists above our heads. Then we went to work, setting up everything, putting all our scares in place. We had creepy things floating from the ceiling and oozing down the wall and popping out of doorways. We had eerie sound effects and moans and whispers and cries.
We had the laughing jack-’o-lanterns and the dripping protoplasm — and, of course, the terrifying explosions. It took us over three hours to get everything ready for the party.
“I’m starving,” Rita said, as we gathered up the empty shopping bags. “It’s way past lunchtime.”
“Yes. Let’s get out of here,” Amanda said. “I’ve breathed in so much dust, I think I’m turning into a dust ball.”
I folded the shopping bags under my arm and crossed the entryway to the front door. I grabbed the knob, twisted it, and pulled. The door didn’t budge. I tried again. This time I pushed. I twisted the knob and leaned my shoulder into it.
No. Not moving.
I tried turning the knob the other way. Pulling. Then pushing.
My voice trembled as I turned to Amanda and Rita. “Hey, I don’t believe it. We’re locked in.”
Rita laughed and shoved me away from the door. Amanda rolled her eyes. “Did you really think you could scare us, Scott? Did you really think we’d believe you?”
“We came in through the kitchen window, remember?” Rita said.
I shrugged. “Okay, okay. It was worth a try. I thought I’d give you a little fright.”
“We had enough frights already this morning in this old house,” Amanda said.
I led the way through the kitchen to the window. “I can’t wait to get our three ‘friends’ in here,” I said. “When we’re finished with them …” My voice faded.
I stopped halfway across the room. All three of us stared.
“D-didn’t we leave that window open?” I stammered.
“Yes, we did,” Amanda said in a tiny voice.
“Well, it’s closed now,” I said. I strode over to it, raised my hands to the top of the frame, and shoved up as hard as I could. I tried again. Then I took a deep breath and pushed again.
A cold feeling of dread ran down my body. “Whoa,” I murmured. “We really are locked in.”
Again, Rita shoved me out of the way. “Are you joking? This isn’t funny.”
“I — I’m not joking,” I said, my voice cracking. “Someone closed the window tight.” I peered through the glass. No one out there.
“Okay. Let’s not panic,” Amanda said.
“Too late,” I said. “I’m already panicking. Did someone inside this hous
e shut the window on us?”
Before anyone could answer, I heard soft whispers from another room. At first, they sounded like a breath of wind. But as I stood there, frozen in fear, all of my senses totally alert, I began to make out a repeated word.
“Stay … stay … stay …”
I grasped Amanda’s arm. “Do you hear that?”
Her eyes looked like they were about to pop out of her head. “Someone whispering?”
“I don’t hear it,” Rita said. “If you two are trying to freak me out …” But then her mouth dropped open.
“Stay…. You will stay …”
“I hear it!” she cried. “Let’s get out of here!”
Without saying another word, the three of us turned to the window. Working together, we gave a hard push and hoisted the heavy frame up. Then we dove out onto the side yard.
I landed on my hands and knees. Pain shot up and down my body, but I didn’t care. I took off running along the side of the house to the street. Amanda and Rita were close behind me.
We turned left and started running toward home, our shoes pounding the sidewalk. When Mickey, Morty, and Kenji burst in front of us, we nearly knocked them over.
“Hey — whoa!” Mickey cried, raising both hands to stop us. “What’s the big hurry?”
They wore tan sports jerseys with big red numbers on the front. All three of them had number 13. And they carried hockey sticks, which they waved in front of them.
“Just in time for the next meeting of the Dare Club,” Morty said, grinning his ape grin. Kenji giggled, as if Morty had just said something hilarious.
“I didn’t know you guys played hockey,” I said.
“We don’t,” Mickey said. “We just think we look cool carrying hockey sticks.” Kenji giggled again.
“You look like jerks,” Rita said. She wasn’t afraid of them. Even they wouldn’t pick on a little girl.
Maybe.
We tried to edge past them, but they moved quickly to block our path. “Where are you going?” Morty asked. “Don’t you want to hear your next dare?”
“We’re late,” I said. “I promised my mom I’d brush our dog’s teeth this afternoon.”
