The Ghost of Slappy

by R. L. Stine

  “Sorry,” I murmured. I gave up. I knew I couldn’t convince them that Slappy was talking on his own.

  I pulled open the garage door. “Just putting the dummy out here until the morning.”

  I folded Slappy in half and shoved him on a shelf next to the charcoal and barbecue grill equipment. Then I hurried back into the house. I didn’t feel much safer with Slappy in the garage. I knew what I had to do.

  My parents had returned to the den. Carlos and Patti stood by the door. “You two, come upstairs with me,” I said.

  “I can’t,” Carlos replied. “I have to get home. My parents are texting me.”

  “But, Carlos—”

  “Sorry,” he said. He pulled his coat from the front closet. “Tomorrow, okay?”

  “But the dummy—”

  Carlos had strict parents. He tried hard not to get on their bad sides. Especially now. His birthday was coming up, and his parents had planned a spectacular party for him. It was going to be at the stables where they worked. And there was going to be horseback riding and everything.

  Carlos didn’t want to mess that up. He gave me a wave and headed out the front door.

  I tugged Patti’s arm. “Come up to my room. This is all your fault, anyway.”

  She pulled free. “My fault? Why are you acting so weird?”

  I waited until we were in my room. I closed the door behind us. “I’m acting weird because you really did bring that dummy to life.”

  Patti laughed. “You don’t give up, do you? Why are you trying to scare me?”

  I balled my hands into tight fists. “It’s not a joke. But you don’t have to believe me. Just give me back that piece of paper with the secret words on them.”

  She blinked. “Huh? Piece of paper?”

  “Don’t act dumb. You took the piece of paper and you read the words. I need it back.”

  She took off her glasses and rubbed them on the sleeve of her T-shirt. “I did give it back to you.”

  “No, you didn’t,” I said. I gave her a push. “Go look in your room. Maybe you took it to your room.”

  “I don’t think so,” she said. “Did you look in here? Did you look on the floor? Under your bed?”

  “I’ll look and you look,” I said. “But hurry. I need it right away.”

  “Why don’t you make up your own magic words?” she asked.

  I gave her another push. “Just go find it.”

  If I could read the words out loud, it would put Slappy back to sleep. And my worries would be over.

  I searched frantically in my room. I crawled under my bed and under my desk. I searched in the closet. I even tore off the bedcovers and looked under them.

  I was on my hands and knees, peering under the dresser, when Patti returned. “Did you find it?” I cried, my voice high and trembling. “Did you?”

  She shook her head. “Not in my room.”

  “But, Patti—” I was so wired, I almost burst into tears.

  “Maybe we tucked it back into the dummy’s jacket pocket,” she said. “Remember? It fell out of his jacket? Maybe we stuffed the paper back in after I read the words.”

  “Yes!” I cried, jumping to my feet.

  That had to be it. That had to be the answer.

  We tucked the sheet of paper back. Of course.

  “Thanks,” I said. I patted her on the head. Then I ran out the bedroom door and down the stairs. Mom and Dad were still in the den. My heart started to pound real hard again as I stepped up to the door to the garage.

  I pulled it open and lurched into the garage.

  The first thing I saw was that the big sliding garage door was wide open.

  The second thing I saw was that Slappy was gone.

  “Karru Marri Odonna Loma Molonu Karrano.”

  I love those words. They always make me feel so ALIVE! Hahaha.

  Those words are like a song to me. A song that makes me want to dance—on someone’s face! HAHAHAHA.

  I don’t know what the words mean. They probably mean something like “Slappy is awesome.”

  Hahahaha.

  I don’t care what they mean. To me, they only mean one thing—it’s magic time!

  And my kind of magic is making people scream.

  Are you ready for my next trick?

  Hahahaha!

  I stood there in the garage, stunned for a long moment. I stared at the snow falling in big flakes outside the open door. I listened to the swirl of wind coming around the side of the garage.

  “Yes! Yes!” I cried out loud. I pumped my fists above my head.

  The evil dummy was gone. Not my problem anymore.

  I didn’t have to worry about sneaking him to school. I didn’t have to worry about Hanson thinking I stole him.

  “Yes! Yesssss!” Pure joy.

  Suddenly, the pain throbbed in my nose. It was a reminder of how dangerous he could be. He tried to take off my nose.

  He could hurt others, I realized. I was the only one who knew how to stop him.

  I had no choice. I had to go after him. I crept back into the house, grabbed my coat, and headed back into the snow.

  The big snowflakes were coming down hard, and the snow had started to stick on the driveway and lawn. I moved quickly down the driveway, following small shoeprints in the fresh snow. Slappy’s shoeprints.

  I pulled my hood down and jogged to the sidewalk. The prints of the dummy’s shoes were hard to see. And the fast-falling snow was quickly covering them.

  Where is he going? Where would be a natural place for him to go?

  I had no idea. I took off. My sneakers slid on the icy surface. I followed the shoeprints into the street, but they disappeared in the middle of the road. I crossed and searched for them on the other side.

  Slappy had passed an empty lot and was heading toward a group of small houses. Snowflakes tingled on my eyebrows. I brushed them away and tugged my hood lower.

  A long, dark SUV rumbled past. The headlights rolled over me. The light made the tiny shoeprints sparkle on the snowy walk. The driver slowed, watching me. Then the big car sped away, back tires skidding on the slippery surface.

  I jogged with my head lowered, squinting hard to follow the trail Slappy had left. The wind blew drifts of snow around me as I moved. And a few times I lost the trail completely and thought I would have to turn around and go home.

  I stood bent over, studying the ground. My breath puffed up white steam in front of me. I found the trail again. It led up Morgan’s Hill, past Morgan Park, where we go to play softball and soccer.

  A patch of tall evergreen trees stood at the top of the hill. Even in the snowy, dim light, I could see that their branches were already covered in white.

  I stopped to catch my breath. Slappy, where are you taking me?

  I raised both hands and shook snow off my hood. My side began to ache from jogging uphill. I didn’t remember what stood beyond the tall evergreens.

  I didn’t remember until I saw the low fence. And the mounds of dirt covered in snow. And the gravestones in perfect rows. The gravestones rising straight up from the snow-covered ground.

  And then I realized I was at Pine Hill Cemetery.

  And I saw him!

  Saw the dummy standing in the snow between two rows of low graves. Peering through the curtain of falling flakes, I saw Slappy watching me from the graveyard.

  Watching me and beckoning with one wooden finger.

  Calling me into the graveyard, that ugly grin frozen on his evil face.

  We stood facing each other, the wind howling through the low gravestones. It took me a while to realize I was holding my breath. I let it out in a long, steamy whoosh.

  Slappy rested one hand on the top of a gravestone. He beckoned to me with the other.

  I didn’t move. I stood like a statue, as if I’d been frozen by the cold. My brain spun. No way I wanted to go into the cemetery in the middle of the night. No way I wanted to go in there with an evil talking dummy waiting for me.

&
nbsp; But what could I do?

  Just turn and run home and climb under the covers and pretend the evil creature wasn’t on the loose? It was my fault that Slappy was out here. And if he harmed other people … that would be my fault too.

  I knew how to put him back to sleep. The secret words were on the sheet of paper. And I had to check his jacket pocket to see if the paper was there.

  So that was the plan. Grab Slappy. Dig into his jacket pocket. Pull out the paper. Read the words out loud.

  I stood there watching him, snowflakes tingling my face, the wind howling against me, as if telling me to run away.

  I stood there, frozen. Trembling—not from the cold, but from my fear.

  I can’t. I can’t go in there.

  And then the dummy tossed back his head. His mouth dropped open, and he let out a chilling laugh. The laugh rang off the snow-covered trees. It seemed to bounce off the sky. The horrifying laugh surrounded me … a laugh so ugly, it sent chill after chill down my back—until my entire body was shaking.

  And I knew I couldn’t wait any longer. I had to go into the graveyard and silence Slappy so he couldn’t harm anyone ever again.

  I took a deep, shuddering breath. The cold air felt good in my throat. I took a step toward the gate, then another. My sneakers slid on the snowy ground. I started to stumble but grabbed the top of the gate and stopped my fall.

  The metal gate squeaked as I tugged it open. I ignored my pounding heart and stepped into the cemetery. I brushed snowflakes off my eyebrows and turned to the dummy.

  Slappy hadn’t moved. He had stopped laughing, but that evil grin remained. His green eyes flashed with excitement. He gripped a gravestone with both hands.

  My shoes crunched through a snowdrift as I made my way closer. Did he plan to run? Did he just plan to stand there? Was he about to attack?

  I noticed a deep hole behind him. An empty grave. Snow covered the tall pile of dirt beside the big hole. I shivered. Was that grave waiting for a body?

  “Nice night for a walk!” Slappy shouted. His raspy voice made the back of my neck tighten. “But I’m bored. It’s a little dead out here!” He opened his mouth and laughed at his own joke.

  “Slappy, what do you want?” I cried. My voice was muffled by the falling snow. “Why are you in this graveyard?”

  “I wanted to see if you would come,” he answered. His wooden lips clicked on every word. “I wanted to see if you will make a good slave. And the answer is YES! Hahahahaha!”

  “I won’t be your slave!” I said. My voice cracked on the word slave. “You can’t—”

  “You already are my slave, Owl Face!” he screamed. “I’m alive—and I’m going to stay alive! And you will be my slave … You will follow my every command—for the rest of your life!”

  Slave to a dummy?

  It almost seemed like a joke. Except he was serious.

  And as I crept closer, I could actually feel the evil that surrounded him. I hesitated. What powers did he have? Did he have powers to control me, to force me to be his slave?

  “Don’t look so sad!” he cried. “I know I wasn’t very nice to your nose. But … I had to get your attention. Hahaha! I won’t hurt you again—unless you disobey me.”

  My eyes were on his gray sports jacket. The jacket was open, and I could see the pocket inside the lining.

  Go at the count of three, I told myself. Get that sheet of paper and read the words.

  One …

  Two …

  I was breathing so hard, my chest ached. I brushed snow away from my eyes. I tensed my leg muscles. Prepared to leap forward.

  Three!

  I sprang at Slappy. Raised both hands to claw at the jacket.

  He uttered a startled cry. And collapsed to the snowy ground as I reached for him.

  Missed. I stumbled over him. Lost my balance. Fell to my knees.

  He grabbed one of my legs with both hands. He tightened his grip with surprising strength until my leg throbbed.

  “Noooooo!” A moan of pain escaped my throat. I spun around—and kicked with all my might. Kicked my leg free. The dummy went toppling onto his back.

  I spun around on my knees and made another grab for his jacket.

  Yes!

  I had the jacket tight in one hand. I reached for the pocket with my other hand.

  Raw pain shot over my face as Slappy swung a hard wooden fist—into my nose.

  He knew where to hit. He knew what would cause the most pain.

  My hands dropped away from his jacket. My eyes were covered with tears as the pain radiated over my entire head. Everything went bright red. I couldn’t see.

  And through my pain I heard the evil dummy laughing.

  “You should do something about that nose!” Slappy cried. And laughed again.

  On my knees, I covered my face with both hands, hoping for the pain to fade. The dummy stood hunched, waiting for me to attack again.

  I stumbled to my feet. I tried to concentrate, to think of my next move.

  “Are you ready to obey, slave?” Slappy demanded.

  “Good-bye,” I said. “Game over. Have a nice night.” I spun away from him and started to walk away. My sneakers sank into the soft snow. My face still pulsed with pain.

  I walked up to the open grave. I peered down into the deep hole. Then I kept walking. I knew Slappy would follow me. He wouldn’t let me get away so easily.

  I was right. He came at me from behind. Tackled me, wrapping his arms around my legs.

  I was ready for him. I didn’t go down. I spun hard—and grabbed his waist with both hands. He let out a startled cry.

  I lifted him off the ground. He began to kick both feet and thrash his fists, but I held him out at arm’s length.

  “Let go of me, slave!” he screamed. “I’ll bury you! I’ll bury you!”

  I ignored his cries and held on to him tightly. I slid one hand to the jacket and reached inside. My fingers fumbled for the pocket.

  “Let go of me, you owl-faced idiot!”

  I grabbed the top of the pocket and slid my hand inside.

  Nothing. Nothing in there.

  The pocket was empty.

  With a loud groan, I spun Slappy around. I grabbed the other side of the jacket. Was there a pocket in the lining on this side? Yes.

  This had to be it.

  Slappy kicked hard. His big black shoe just missed my face. A gust of wind sent a thick swirl of snow into my eyes. I could barely see. I fumbled for the other jacket pocket. Reached into it.

  Nothing in there. Empty. No paper.

  I slid my hands frantically up and down the jacket. No other pockets. I reached for the side of his gray trousers. No pockets in the trousers.

  Failure. He didn’t have the paper. I wasn’t going to be able to put him back to sleep.

  The dummy kicked me in the face and I loosened my grip, blinded by the red, burning pain.

  My legs folded. I tried to stay up. But the next thing I knew, I was on the ground. Lying on my side. Howling in pain. I grabbed my face. Pressed my hands against my broken, throbbing nose.

  “No one will ever put Slappy to sleep again!” the dummy screeched.

  Then I felt his wooden hands grab my side. Before I could resist, he shoved hard. Harder than I could imagine.

  Another shove. Another.

  I was in too much pain to resist.

  He gave a hard shove that rolled me over. And then I screamed as I started to fall. I slid down the side of the open grave.

  Down … down in an instant. My scream following me as I hit the snowy bottom hard. I sprawled on my back. The walls of the grave rose all around me. High above my head.

  Slappy’s grinning face appeared over the opening of the hole. He pumped his fists over his head. “I win! Yaaaay.”

  “You—you can’t leave me down here!” I cried. My high, shrill voice revealed my fear. “Slappy—you can’t leave me here!”

  “Don’t bother to get up,” he called down. “I know my
way out. Ta-taa.”

  He peered down at me, the grin frozen on his face. “What’s the matter, slave? Too deep to climb out? Hahaha.”

  I’ll freeze to death down here.

  No one will find me.

  My terrifying thoughts paralyzed me. Blinking through the falling snow, my eyes scanned the walls. I saw that the snow had drifted to the bottom of one wall. It formed a small hill at the end of the grave. If I stood on it, I would be high enough to reach up to the top.

  I glanced up. Slappy was still glaring down at me.

  I took a deep breath and sprang onto the snow hill. My shoes slipped as I stumbled up. But my jump was perfect—I stretched my arms and reached the edge of the grave.

  “Hey—!” Slappy cried out as I grabbed his ankle. I tightened my grip as I fell back to the grave bottom.

  Squawking in surprise, he came falling down with me.

  And as he came down, his big wooden head hit a rock at the top of the grave. I heard a loud craaack. The sound of cracking wood?

  Slappy went silent. He landed on top of me. I scrambled to push him away.

  I waited for him to stand up and face me. But he didn’t move. His eyes were shut. His legs were tangled. His mouth hung open.

  “Get up!” I shouted. “Get up!”

  I grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him. “Look what you did to us!” I screamed. “Look where we are!”

  I went totally berserk. I lost all control. My terror turned to anger. I kept shaking him as hard as I could. And screaming at the top of my lungs.

  “We’re going to freeze down here! It’s all your fault. You stupid dummy! Look what you’ve done to us!”

  Slappy didn’t resist. He didn’t open his eyes. Didn’t try to fight me. His arms and legs bounced lifelessly as I shook him.

  I tossed him to the floor of the grave. I could see a jagged line, a crack, where his head had hit the side of the grave.

  I bent over him, hands gripping my waist, wheezing hard, struggling to catch my breath. Struggling to get over my panic.

  The dummy remained still. The eyes stayed shut. I gave him a soft shove with my shoe. He didn’t react at all.