by R. L. Stine
Up, up, they floated, as Carly Beth stared in silent horror.
“Run! Run!”
Yes.
She turned. She forced her legs to move.
And with a burst of energy, she began to run.
She ran through the dimly lit front room of the store. Her hands grabbed for the doorknob, and she pulled open the door.
A second later, she was out on the sidewalk, running through the darkness. Her sneakers thudded loudly on the pavement. She felt a shock of cold air against her hot face.
Her hot, green face.
Her monster face.
The monster face she could not remove.
She crossed the street and kept running.
What was that sound? That deep, gurgling sound? That low murmur that seemed to be following her?
Following her?
“Oh, no!” Carly Beth cried out as she glanced back—and saw the gruesome heads flying after her.
A ghoulish parade.
They flew in single file, one long chain of throbbing, jabbering heads. Their eyes glowed brightly, as bright as car headlights, and they were all trained on Carly Beth.
Choked with fear, Carly Beth stumbled over the curb.
Her arms shot forward as she struggled to regain her balance. Her legs wanted to collapse, but she forced them to move again.
Bent into the wind, she ran, past dark houses and empty lots.
It must be late, she realized. It must be very late.
Too late.
The words flashed into her mind.
Too late for me.
The hideous, glowing heads flew after her. Getting closer. Closer. The rumbling of their animal murmurs grew louder in her ears until the frightening sound seemed to surround her.
The wind roared, gusting hard, as if deliberately pushing her back.
The murmuring heads floated closer.
I’m running through a dark nightmare, she thought.
I may run forever.
Too late. Too late for me.
Or was it?
An idea formed its way through her nightmarish panic. As she ran, her arms thrashing the air in front of her as if reaching for safety, her mind struggled for a solution, an escape.
A symbol of love.
She heard the store owner’s words over the rumble of ugly voices behind her.
A symbol of love.
That’s what it would take to rid her of the monster head that had become her own.
Would it also stop the throbbing, glowing heads that pursued her? Would it send the faces of The Unloved back to where they came from?
Gasping loudly for breath, Carly Beth turned the corner and kept running. Glancing back, she could see her chattering pursuers turn, too.
Where am I? she wondered, turning her eyes to the houses she was passing.
She had been too frightened to care where she ran.
But, now, Carly Beth had an idea. A desperate idea.
And she had to get there before the gruesome parade of heads caught up with her.
She had a symbol of love.
It was her head. The plaster of Paris head her mother had sculpted of her.
Carly Beth remembered asking her mother why she had sculpted it. And her mother had replied, “Because I love you.” Maybe it could save her. Maybe it could help her out of this nightmare.
But where was it?
She had tossed it aside. She had let it fall behind a hedge. She had left it in someone’s yard, and—
And now she was back on the block.
She recognized the street. She recognized the houses.
This was where she had met up with Chuck and Steve. This is where she had sent them running off in terror.
But where was the house? Where was the hedge?
Her eyes darted frantically from yard to yard.
Behind her, she saw, the heads had swarmed together. Like buzzing bees, they had bunched together, grinning now, grinning hideous, wet grins as they prepared to close in on her.
I’ve got to find the head! Carly Beth told herself, struggling to breathe, struggling to keep her aching legs moving.
I’ve got to find my head.
The rumbling, jabbering voices grew louder. The heads swarmed closer.
“Where? Where?” she screamed aloud.
And then she saw the tall hedge. Across the street.
The yard across the street.
The head, the beautiful head—she had let it fall behind that hedge.
Could she get to it before the ugly heads swarmed over her?
Yes!
Sucking in a deep breath of air, her arms reaching out desperately in front of her, she turned and ran across the street.
And dove behind the hedge. Onto her hands and knees. Her chest heaving. Her breath rasping. Her head pounding.
She reached for the head.
It was gone.
27
Gone.
The head was gone.
My last chance, Carly Beth thought, searching blindly, her hand thrashing frantically through the bottom of the hedge.
Gone.
Too late for me.
Still on her knees, she turned to face her ghoulish pursuers. The heads, jabbering their mindless sounds, rose up in front of her, forming a wall.
Carly Beth started to her feet.
The throbbing wall of monster heads inched closer.
She turned, searching for an escape route.
And saw it.
Saw her head.
Saw the plaster of Paris head staring up at her from between two upraised roots on the big tree near the driveway.
The wind must have blown it over there, she realized.
And as the ugly heads bobbed closer, she dove for the tree. And grabbed the head with both hands.
With a cry of triumph, she turned the sculpted face toward the jabbering heads and raised it high.
“Go away! Go away!” Carly Beth screamed, holding the head up so they could all see it. “This is a symbol of love! This is a symbol of love! Go away!”
The heads bobbed together. The glowing eyes stared at the sculpted head.
They murmured excitedly. Wet smiles formed on their distorted lips.
“Go away! Go away!”
Carly Beth heard them laugh. Low, scornful laughter.
Then they moved quickly, surrounding her, eager to swallow her up.
28
Too late for me.
The words repeated in Carly Beth’s mind.
Her idea had failed.
The heads swarmed around her, drooled over her, eyes bulging gleefully in triumph.
Their rumbling murmurs became a roar. She felt herself being swallowed up in their foul-smelling heat.
Without thinking, she lowered the sculpted head. And pulled it down hard over her hideous monster head.
To her surprise, it slid over her like a mask.
I’m wearing my own face like a mask, she thought bitterly.
As she pulled it over her, darkness descended.
There were no eyeholes. She couldn’t see out.
She couldn’t hear.
What will the gruesome heads do to me? she wondered, alone with her fear.
Will I become one of The Unloved now?
Will I end up on display on a shelf along with them?
Surrounded by the tight, silent darkness, Carly Beth waited.
And waited.
She could feel the blood pulsing at her temples. She could feel the throb of fear in her chest, the ache of her dry throat.
What are they going to do?
What are they doing?
She couldn’t bear being alone, shut in with her fear, surrounded by silence and the dark.
With a hard tug, she pulled off the sculpted head.
The gruesome heads were gone.
Vanished.
Carly Beth stared straight ahead in disbelief. Then her eyes darted around the shadowy lawn. She searched the trees and shrubs. She
squinted into the dark spaces between the houses.
Gone.
They were gone.
For a long moment, Carly Beth sat in the cold, wet grass, the sculpted head in her lap, breathing hard, staring across the silent, empty front yards.
Soon her breathing returned to normal. She climbed to her feet.
The wind had gentled. The pale half-moon slipped out from behind the dark clouds that had covered it.
Carly Beth felt something flap against her throat.
Startled, she reached up and felt the bottom of the mask.
The bottom of the mask?
Yes!
There was a gap between the mask and her neck.
“Hey!” she cried aloud. Setting the sculpted head down gently at her feet, she raised both hands to the bottom of the mask and pulled up.
The mask came off easily.
Stunned, she lowered it and held it in front of her. She folded it up, then unfolded it.
The orange eyes that had glowed like fire had faded. The pointed animal fangs had become rubbery and limp.
“You’re just a mask!” she cried aloud. “Just a mask again!”
Laughing gleefully, she tossed it up in the air and caught it.
It can be removed only once, the store owner had told her.
Only once by a symbol of love.
Well, I’ve done it! Carly Beth told herself happily. I’ve removed it. And don’t worry—I’ll never put it on again!
Never!
She suddenly felt exhausted.
I’ve got to get home, she told herself. It’s probably close to midnight.
Most of the houses were dark. There were no cars moving on the streets. The trick or treaters had all gone home.
Carly Beth bent to pick up the sculpted head. Then, carrying the mask and the plaster head, she began walking quickly toward her house.
Halfway up the driveway, she stopped.
She reached up and examined her face with one hand.
Do I have my old face back? she wondered.
She rubbed her cheeks, then ran her fingers over her nose.
Is it my old face? Do I look like me?
She couldn’t tell just by touching.
“I’ve got to get to a mirror!” she exclaimed out loud.
Desperate to see if her face had returned to normal, she ran up to her front door and rang the bell.
After a few seconds the door swung open, and Noah appeared. He pushed open the storm door.
Then he raised his eyes to her face—and started to scream.
“Take off that mask! Take it off! You’re so ugly!!”
29
“No!” Carly Beth cried in horror.
The mask must have changed her face, she realized.
“No! Oh, no!”
She pushed past her brother, tossed down the head and the mask, and ran to the hallway mirror.
Her face stared back at her.
Perfectly normal. Her old face. Her good old face.
Her dark brown eyes. Her broad forehead. Her snip of a nose, which she had always wished was longer.
I’ll never complain about my nose again, she thought happily.
Her face was normal again. All normal.
As she stared at herself, she could hear Noah laughing at the doorway.
She spun around angrily. “Noah—how could you?”
He laughed harder. “It was just a joke. I can’t believe you fell for it.”
“It was no joke to me!” Carly Beth exclaimed angrily.
Her mother appeared at the end of the hall. “Carly Beth, where have you been? I expected you back an hour ago.”
“Sorry, Mom,” Carly Beth replied, grinning.
I’m so happy, I may never stop grinning! she thought.
“It’s sort of a long story,” she told her mother. “Sort of a long, weird story.”
“But you’re okay?” Mrs. Caldwell’s eyes narrowed as she studied her daughter.
“Yeah. I’m okay,” Carly Beth said.
“Come into the kitchen,” Mrs. Caldwell instructed her. “I have some nice hot cider for you.”
Carly Beth obediently followed her mother to the kitchen. The kitchen was warm and bright. The sweet cider aroma filled the room.
Carly Beth had never been so glad to be home in all her life. She hugged her mother, then took a seat at the counter.
“Why didn’t you wear your duck costume?” Mrs. Caldwell asked, pouring out a cup of steaming cider. “Where have you been? Why weren’t you with Sabrina? Sabrina has called twice already, wondering what happened to you.”
“Well…” Carly Beth began. “It’s sort of a long story, Mom.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” her mother said, setting the cup of cider down in front of Carly Beth. She leaned against the counter, resting her chin in one hand. “Go ahead. Talk.”
“Well…” Carly Beth hesitated. “Everything is fine now, Mom. Perfectly fine. But—”
Before she could say another word, Noah burst into the room.
“Hey, Carly Beth—” he called in a deep, raspy voice. “Look at me! How do I look in your mask?”
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