The Haunting Hour

by R. L. Stine

  Dad beamed at me. “Like the cabin, Amber?”

  “I love it!” I cried. “It’s truly amazing, Dad! I think I was wrong about this cruise.”

  That made his smile grow even wider.

  “Surprise!” Kat cried. “Guess what I brought.”

  Dad motioned to a steward outside the door.

  “You didn’t want it,” Kat said, “so I got it! I got the great old trunk!”

  My mouth dropped open. “What?”

  The porter slid the trunk into the center of the cabin.

  Dad bent down in front of it. He grabbed the latch and popped it up.

  “Here, Kat,” he said. “Let me open it for you.”

  My Imaginary Friend

  INTRODUCTION

  ILLUSTRATED BY CLAY PATRICK MCBRIDE

  Go away, Max. I don’t have time to talk now.

  No, really. Max, give me a break. Go away and let me write. I’ll talk to you when I’m finished, okay?

  Max—please!

  Sorry, readers. Max is my imaginary friend, and he’s driving me crazy today.

  Do you think I’m too old to have an imaginary friend? Yes. So do I. But someone should tell that to Max!

  Max—get away from my keyboard. I’m going to write a story about a boy who has an imaginary friend—a very dangerous imaginary friend.

  No. You can’t help me. Go away. I mean it, Max.

  Get away from the computer! Go away. GO AWAY!

  David turned away from his computer and stared across the bedroom at Shawn. “Why are you lying there like a dead fish?” he asked. “Come over here. We’ll play a game.”

  Shawn groaned and pulled the blankets up to his chin. “I don’t feel well.”

  “Boo-hoo,” David said. “Get over here, Shawn, or else—”

  The bedroom door swung open and David’s mom stepped in. She was short and a little chubby, like David, with tight ringlets of black hair that bobbed on her head when she walked.

  “Hey, Mom. How’s it going?” David asked.

  She didn’t answer. She leaned down and spread her palm over Shawn’s narrow forehead. Shawn didn’t look anything like David. He was very thin, with a mop of straight blond hair that always hung in his eyes. “Your head is cool,” she said softly. “I don’t think you have a fever.”

  “Feel Travis’s head,” Shawn said. “He’s sick too.”

  Mom groaned and rolled her eyes. But she reached across the bed and spread her hand out again. “No temperature. He’s fine,” she said.

  “Shawn isn’t that sick,” David said. “He’s probably faking. You know. He always wants attention.”

  His mom straightened the blankets. She turned to the window. “Why on earth did you open that?” she asked. “It’s freezing cold in here.”

  “Travis said he was hot,” Shawn replied. “Travis made me do it.”

  Mom frowned at Shawn. “I’m a little worried about you,” she said, pressing her hands to her waist. “You’re twelve years old, Shawn. It’s really time you got rid of your imaginary friend.”

  She crossed the room and shut the window. She straightened some books on David’s bookcase. Then she fluffed Shawn’s pillow.

  “Hey, Mom, what’s for dinner?” David asked.

  But she was out the bedroom door, closing it behind her.

  “Why did she say that about me?” Travis demanded as soon as the door was shut. “Why did she say I have to go?”

  “Don’t worry,” Shawn replied. “I won’t get rid of you.”

  David stood up and crossed to the foot of Shawn’s bed. “You should get rid of Travis. You’re worrying Mom with all that invisible-friend stuff,” he said.

  “Why don’t you mind your own business?” Shawn snapped. “You’re not the boss. You can’t tell me what to do.”

  Travis let out a long, loud yawn. “Bor-ring!” he said. “It’s totally boring lying around doing nothing. Let’s sneak out.”

  Shawn sat up in bed. He brushed his hair away from his eyes. “Sneak out? But it’s late. We could get in major trouble.”

  Travis grinned at him. “Only if we’re caught.”

  David watched Shawn pull on jeans and a sweatshirt. “Don’t listen to Travis. He always gets you into a mess. You’re making a big mistake,” he said.

  “Your face is a big mistake,” Shawn replied. He pulled open the window, threw his leg over the sill, and climbed out into the night.

  David didn’t want to go out, but he pulled on his coat and followed Shawn. Maybe I can help keep him out of trouble, he thought.

  They stepped into a cold, moonless night. The wind swirled around the houses and howled through the trees. Somewhere down the block a dog barked. Dead leaves scuttled around their legs and crackled beneath their shoes.

  “I don’t like being out this late,” David said, shivering. “I think we should go back.”

  “Travis doesn’t want to go back,” Shawn replied. “Travis is bored.”

  They stopped in front of the Harpers’ house on the next block. The driveway light sent a rectangle of yellow over the side of the garage.

  They saw a tall ladder and a stack of paint cans. Half the garage wall had been painted yellow.

  “Let’s help paint the garage,” Travis said.

  “No way!” Shawn protested. “If Mr. Harper catches us…”

  “Why are you always so scared?” Travis sneered. “Poor little Shawny Baby is frightened? Don’t you ever want to have any fun?”

  Shawn turned and started up the driveway. “Okay. Let’s paint,” he said.

  David ran after Shawn. “No—please!” he begged. “Please stop!”

  But Shawn pried open the paint cans. He picked up a brush and dipped it into the can of black paint. Then he painted a big smiley face on the garage wall.

  He and Travis played tic-tac-toe on the wall in green paint. Then Shawn wrote Travis’s name in big red letters. They giggled and danced as they painted.

  But they stopped giggling when a car pulled up the driveway and the twin beams of the headlights rolled over them.

  Shawn and Travis froze for just a second. Then they tossed the paintbrushes to the ground and took off—vanishing through the hedge at the side of the yard.

  David’s dad jumped out of the car and stormed toward the garage. Even in the dark David could see the angry look on his face.

  “It’s not my fault!” David cried. “Really, Dad. Shawn did all the painting. I—I just followed him. I begged him to stop.”

  Dad glared furiously at David. His dark mustache flared up and down as he gritted his teeth. “This has got to stop, David. Your mother will be so disappointed in you.”

  “But it wasn’t my idea!” David protested. “You’ve got to believe me. It was Shawn. Why don’t you ever blame him?”

  After school the next day David followed Shawn out of the building. Low clouds hung overhead, threatening snow. The ground was hard and frosty.

  David pulled his parka hood down over his head. “I have to go straight home,” David grumbled. “I’ve been grounded—because of last night.”

  “Travis wants to go home a different way today,” Shawn said. “Just for fun.”

  David squinted at him suspiciously. “Which different way?” he asked.

  “He wants to go over the old railroad trestle,” Shawn said, stepping ahead.

  “No way!” David cried.

  “It is kind of dangerous,” Shawn agreed. “The wood planks are all rotting. That trestle could collapse at any time.”

  Travis glared at Shawn and shook his head. “Why are you always the biggest chicken on earth? Don’t you ever get tired of being such a wimp?”

  “I’m not a wimp. I’ll show you,” Shawn replied.

  Fat snowflakes started to fall as they stepped up to the old wooden trestle. It had once been a railroad bridge over a wide creek. But the creek had dried up. And no trains had come through town in many years.

  Many of the boards were cracked and brok
en. Others had fallen away, leaving huge gaping holes. The whole trestle trembled in the wind.

  David’s hood had fallen back. He brushed snow from his bushy black hair. “You can’t do this,” he told Shawn. “No one is allowed on this bridge. It’s too dangerous.”

  “But Travis says—” Shawn started.

  “Travis is imaginary!” David screamed. “Please—just this once—don’t listen to him!”

  He grabbed Shawn by the shoulder. “Shape up!” he cried. “You can’t keep listening to Travis. He’s going to kill you! He’s going to kill us both!”

  Shawn shook himself free and ran to follow Travis onto the wooden trestle. As he started to make his way across, the planks creaked and squeaked. A piece of the wooden railing broke off in Shawn’s hand.

  The bridge trembled in a strong gust of wind. The fat snowflakes had already left a powdery cover on the wooden planks.

  I can’t watch, David told himself. His whole body was trembling. He shut his eyes. And then opened them with a gasp when he heard a long, cracking sound.

  Shawn was nearly to the other side. But David could see the trestle shaking hard, see the planks giving way on both sides.

  It’s collapsing! he realized.

  Waving his arms, David leaped onto the trestle. “Hurry!” he shouted. “Shawn—hurry! Move!” David chased after him, shouting at the top of his lungs.

  Crack crack crack crack.

  The planks were popping off, dropping to the snowy ground below.

  Shawn dove to the other side. He slid on the slippery grass. Safe.

  David stumbled on the trembling wooden trestle. His foot caught in a hole where a plank had fallen away.

  Crack crack craaaaack.

  More planks fell away. David gripped the railing. He struggled to stay on his feet as the old bridge swayed wildly from side to side.

  Two more planks dropped out—nearly under his feet. He jumped back, gripping the shaking rail.

  “I’m trapped!” he called. “Help! Get help! I’m trapped here—and it’s going down!”

  He squinted through the falling snow to the far side of the trestle. “Shawn? Where are you? Shawn? I need help!”

  A few seconds later David heard the sirens. Three red fire trucks squealed to a stop at one end of the trestle. Yellow-uniformed fire-fighters, their faces grim, jumped down from the trucks. Some of them began to make a rope harness to pull David to safety.

  Gripping the rail, David listened in panic to the trestle creaking and cracking. Hurry! Please—hurry! he thought, watching the fire-fighters work.

  Then he saw his dad jogging over the snow. His face was red. Puffs of steam floated from his mouth as he ran. “David!” he shouted over the voices of the firefighters. “I don’t believe this!”

  “Dad—it’s not what you think!” David shouted back. “It wasn’t my idea at all. I was trying to rescue Shawn. You’ve got to believe me this time. You’ve got to!”

  David paced angrily back and forth in his room. He kicked the wall. He pounded his fist against his closet door. “I may spend the rest of my life in this room,” he complained to Shawn. “I’m grounded forever—and it’s all your fault.”

  Shawn didn’t reply.

  David bumped up to him and shoved his face into Shawn’s. “Travis is the troublemaker. This is all his fault. He has to go, Shawn. Do you hear me? He’s dangerous. He’s really dangerous. Your imaginary friend has to go—now!”

  Shawn sighed and shrugged his shoulders. “Yeah, I guess,” he said. “You’re probably right. But what can I do?”

  Shawn turned to Travis, who was sitting on the windowsill, staring out the open window at the moon. “Let’s get out of here,” Travis said.

  A few minutes later they were out in the frosty night, their breath misting in front of them. They gazed at the fishing pond behind the park where Travis had led them.

  A thin layer of ice gleamed under the yellow moonlight. A thousand little cracks stretched over the silvery surface. Water splashed where the delicate ice had broken apart.

  “What are we doing here?” David asked, zipping his parka as high as it would go. “This is crazy!”

  Then he caught the frightened look on Shawn’s face.

  What was happening? Shawn was backing up, backing toward the pond.

  “Travis—stop it!” Shawn cried. He turned to David. “Stop him, David. Travis—he’s forcing me onto the ice!”

  “Stop!” David cried, panic choking his throat. “The ice is too thin. It can’t hold anyone.”

  “Why are you doing this?” Shawn cried. He staggered back. One foot landed on the crackling surface.

  “I’m taking over,” Travis said. “I’m tired of being the imaginary one. From now on I’m going to be the real one, Shawn. And you will be my invisible friend!”

  “Noooo!” Shawn wailed. “You can’t do that! I’m real! You’re just imaginary!”

  “Not anymore,” Travis sneered. “I’m taking over now. It’s time for you to go. Good-bye, Shawn.”

  He grabbed Shawn by the shoulders. Grunting, crying out, the two of them wrestled onto the surface of the ice.

  David opened his mouth in a shrill scream as the ice cracked. Like a broken mirror it split into dozens of jagged shards.

  Still wrestling, Shawn and Travis plunged into the dark water.

  “No—no—no!” David chanted, shivering in terror. “No—no—please!”

  And then he forced himself to move. He dove onto the ice. Threw himself into the open hole, into the frozen water.

  His heart thudding in his chest, he searched under the surface for Shawn.

  David’s body started to turn numb in the icy water. He couldn’t feel his arms…his legs…he couldn’t breathe….

  He forced himself to keep searching. But the darkness surrounded him. He couldn’t see a thing in the inky blackness.

  He thrashed out, searching for Shawn with his hands. Reaching out frantically. Groping for Shawn in the icy darkness.

  He stayed down until his chest felt ready to explode. Then he burst back to the surface, choking, gasping for air.

  “Where are you? Shawn? Where did you go? Help—somebody! Oh, help!”

  “David is very lucky that a neighbor heard his shouts,” Dr. Kline said. “He was very lucky to be pulled out. Another few seconds and he would have drowned.”

  David’s dad shook his head sadly. He turned to David in the hospital bed. “How did this happen?” he asked. “How did you fall into the pond?”

  “I—I tried to save them,” David replied. “Shawn and Travis. Are they okay, Dad? I tried to save them, but I couldn’t see them. It was too dark…too dark.”

  “Try to rest, David,” Dr. Kline said. He walked David’s dad out into the hall. “Who are Shawn and Travis?” the doctor asked.

  David’s dad tugged at his mustache. He let out a long, weary sigh. “Shawn and Travis are David’s imaginary friends,” he explained.

  Dr. Kline’s eyes went wide. “Really?”

  “Yes. Ever since David’s mom and I divorced, ever since she moved away, David imagines that she’s still there. He still talks to her. And he spends all his time talking to these two imaginary boys.”

  David’s dad took a deep breath. “I’ve tried to get help, Dr. Kline. I just don’t know what to do.”

  The two men stood staring at each other. From back in the room they could hear David’s voice….

  “Shawn. Travis. Look at all the trouble you got me in. You went too far this time. You landed me in the hospital!”

  “Bor-ring!” David heard Travis reply. “Let’s bust out of this place. Come on, David. No one is looking. Run!”

  Losers

  INTRODUCTION

  ILLUSTRATED BY PATRICK ARRASMITH

  Where do story ideas come from? This one came from a memory that has always haunted me.

  I grew up in Columbus, Ohio. Every summer my friends and I looked forward to the Ohio State Fair. We loved everything abo
ut it—the great junk food, the giant pumpkins and squashes and melons, the demolition derbies, the carnival rides, the award-winning horses, cows, and fat, sloppy hogs.

  One night we stayed very late. Somehow I got separated from everyone. The fair was closing. The lights were dimming. I ran along a back fence, searching for my friends.

  Suddenly a huge man in a baggy black suit stepped into my path. His face was big and round and wrinkled, like a prize cabbage. “Hurry,” he called to me. “This way! Hurry! You’re just in time!”

  I stopped and stared at him. The fairgrounds were nearly empty. What did he want?

  “Hurry—you’re just in time,” he whispered. “This way!”

  A chill ran down my back. I turned and ran. I heard the man laughing behind me—cold, cruel laughter.

  Some nights I still hear that laughter. I thought of that cabbage-faced man in the dark fairgrounds when I wrote this story.

  My friend Pete and I go to the Washoo County Fair every fall just to laugh. Believe me, it’s a hoot. You should see the weird things they have at this fair. And the people are even weirder!

  Pete’s cousin Franny always comes with us too. But Franny likes the fair! She says Pete and I are stuck-up snobs. “You shouldn’t judge people,” Franny says. That just makes us laugh even more.

  We’re twelve now. But the three of us have been going to the fair since we were in kindergarten. Believe me, it just doesn’t get any stranger than this.

  “Colin, check this out!” Pete poked me in the ribs. We had just entered the dairy barn. We like to make faces at the cows. “Over here,” Pete said, pointing.

  I stared at the shiny yellow statue in front of us. “Oh, wow. George Washington carved out of butter.”

  “Are you sure that’s George Washington?” Pete asked. “It kinda looks like your mom!”

  “No!” I cried. “It looks a lot like my mom!”

  The two of us fell on the floor laughing.

  “I don’t think it’s funny,” Franny said. “Someone worked really hard on this.”