by R. L. Stine
It was really awesome.
I started to relax. Sam, Joey, and I walked along singing, making up funny words to songs we knew. We sang “On Top of Spaghetti” about twenty times—until kids begged us to stop singing it!
Why have I been so crazy? I asked myself.
I’ve made some cool new friends here at Camp Spirit Moon. I’m having an excellent time.
I felt great until we returned to camp.
The black fog had started to roll in. It greeted us, wrapping its cold, wet mists around us, darkening the sky, the ground, the whole camp.
“Lights Out in ten minutes,” Uncle Marv announced.
Kids scampered to their cabins.
But two strong arms held me from behind. Held me back.
“Hey—!” I cried out. I felt myself being pulled into the trees.
“Ssshhhhh,” someone whispered in my ear.
I spun around to find Lucy holding onto me. “What are you doing?” I whispered. “We have to go to our bunks. We have to get ready for—”
“Ssshhhhhh,” she hissed again in my ear.
Her dark eyes searched my face. Were those tears staining her pale cheeks?
Clouds of fog rolled around us.
She loosened her grip on my arms. But her eyes stayed on mine. “Harry, you’ve got to help me,” she whispered.
I swallowed hard. “Lucy, what’s wrong?”
“I think you know,” she said softly. “It’s all true. What you think. It’s true.”
I didn’t understand. I stared back at her with my mouth open.
“We’re ghosts, Harry,” Lucy told me. “We’re all ghosts at this camp.”
“But, Lucy—” I started.
“Yes.” She nodded sadly. “Yes. Yes. Yes. I’m a ghost too.”
19
The trees disappeared behind the fog. The moonlight made Lucy’s eyes sparkle like dark jewels. But the light faded from her eyes as the fog covered the moon.
I didn’t blink. I didn’t move. I suddenly felt as wooden as the trees hiding behind the swirling fog.
“You—you’re joking, right?” I stammered. “This is one of those great Camp Spirit Moon jokes?”
But I knew the answer.
I could read the answer in her dark eyes. In her trembling mouth. In her pale, pale skin.
“I’m a ghost,” she repeated sadly. “The stories—they’re true, Harry.”
But I don’t believe in ghosts!
That’s what I almost blurted out.
But how could I not believe in ghosts when one stood right in front of me, staring into my face?
How could I not believe in Lucy?
“I believe you,” I whispered.
She sighed. She turned her face away.
“How did it happen?” I asked.
“Just as Uncle Marv told in the story,” she replied. “We were sitting around the campfire. All of us. Just like the other night. The fog rolled in. Such a dark, heavy fog.”
She sighed again. Even in the darkness, I could see the tears glistening in her eyes.
“When the fog finally floated away,” Lucy continued, “we were all dead. All ghosts. We’ve been out here ever since. I can’t explain any more. I don’t know any more.”
“But—when did it happen?” I demanded. “How long… how long have you been a ghost, Lucy?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve lost track of time. There is no time when you’re a ghost. There’s just one day and then the next. And then the next. Forever, I guess.”
I stared at her without speaking.
Chill after chill swept down my back. My whole body was shaking. I didn’t even try to stop it.
I reached out and grabbed her hand.
I guess I wanted to see if she was real or not. One last test to see if she was pulling a joke.
“Oh!” I dropped her hand as its icy cold shot through me. So cold. Her hand—as cold as the black fog.
“You believe me now?” she asked softly. Once again her dark eyes studied my face.
I nodded. “I—I believe you,” I stammered. “I believe you, Lucy.”
She didn’t reply.
I could still feel the cold of her hand on my fingers.
“The blue puddles,” I murmured. “The sticky blue puddles on the cabin floor. Do you know what they are?”
“Yes,” she replied. “Those puddles are drops of protoplasm.”
“Huh? Protoplasm?”
She nodded. “The puddles are made when we materialize. When we make ourselves visible.”
She twisted her face into a sorrowful frown. “It takes so much strength to make ourselves visible. So much energy. The protoplasm puddles are made when we use that energy.”
I didn’t really understand.
But I knew when I stepped in them that the slimy blue puddles were something strange. Something inhuman.
Traces of ghosts.
“And the things Alex and I saw?” I demanded. “Kids floating above their bunks? Their eyes glowing like spotlights? Kids stabbing themselves and not bleeding? Not crying out in pain?”
“Some of the kids tried to scare you,” Lucy confessed. “They only wanted a little fun, Harry. It isn’t fun being a ghost. Believe me. It isn’t fun spending day after day after day out here, knowing you aren’t real anymore. Knowing you will never grow. Knowing you will never change.” She uttered a loud sob from deep in her chest. “Knowing you will never have a life!”
“I—I’m so sorry,” I stammered.
Her expression changed.
Her eyes narrowed. Her mouth twisted into an unpleasant sneer.
I took a step back, suddenly afraid.
“Help me, Harry,” Lucy whispered. “I can’t stand it anymore. You’ve got to help me get away from here.”
“Get away?” I cried, taking another step back. “How?”
“You’ve got to let me possess your mind,” Lucy insisted. “You’ve got to let me take over your body!”
20
“No!” I gasped.
Panic shot through my body. I felt every muscle tense. The blood throbbed at my temples.
“I need to take over your mind, Harry,” Lucy repeated, stepping toward me. “Please. Please help me.”
“No!” I uttered again.
I wanted to turn and run. But I couldn’t move.
My legs felt like Jell-O. My whole body shook.
I don’t believe in ghosts.
That thought flashed into my mind.
But it wasn’t true anymore.
I stood at the edge of the woods—staring at Lucy. Staring at Lucy’s ghost.
The fog swept around us.
Again, I tried to run. But my legs wouldn’t cooperate.
“Wh-what do you want to do to me?” I finally choked out. “Why do you have to take over my mind?”
“It’s my only way to escape,” Lucy replied. Her eyes locked on mine. “My only way.”
“Why don’t you just run away?” I demanded.
She sighed. “If I try to leave the camp by myself, I’ll disappear. If I try to leave the others, I’ll fade away. I’ll join the mist, be part of the fog.”
“I—I don’t understand,” I stammered.
I took a step back. The fog seemed to tighten around me, cold and wet.
Lucy stood two feet in front of me. But I could barely see her. She seemed to shimmer in and out with the fog.
“I need help.” Her voice floated softly. I had to struggle to hear her. “The only way a ghost can escape is to take over the mind of a living person.”
“But—that’s impossible!” I screeched.
What a dumb thing to say, I scolded myself. Seeing a ghost is impossible! Everything happening to me is impossible.
But it’s happening.
“I need to possess the mind and body of a living boy or girl,” Lucy explained. “I need to take over your body, Harry. I need you to take me away from here.”
“No!” I screamed again.
“I can’t! I mean…” My heart thudded so hard, I could barely speak.
“I can’t let you take over my mind,” I finally managed to say. “If you do that, I won’t be me anymore.”
I started to back away.
I have to get to the cabin, I decided. I have to get Alex. We have to run away from this camp. As fast as we can.
“Don’t be scared,” Lucy pleaded. She followed me. The fog circled us, as if holding us inside.
“Don’t be scared,” Lucy said. “As soon as we are far away from here, I’ll get out. I’ll leave your mind. I’ll leave your body. I promise, Harry. As soon as we escape this camp, I’ll go away. You will be yourself again. You will be perfectly okay.”
I stopped backing up. My whole body trembled. The fog washed its cold mist over me.
“Please, Harry,” Lucy begged. “Please. I promise you’ll be okay. I promise.”
I squinted at her through the rising mists.
Should I do it?
Should I let Lucy take over my mind?
Will she give it back?
Can I believe her?
21
Lucy floated in front of me. Her dark eyes pleaded with me. “Please,” she whispered.
“No. I’m sorry. I can’t.” The words escaped my lips almost before I thought them. “I can’t, Lucy.”
She shut her eyes. I could see the muscles in her jaw tighten as she gritted her teeth.
“I’m sorry,” I repeated, backing up.
“I’m sorry too,” she said coldly. Her eyes narrowed. Her lips formed a sneer. “I’m really sorry, Harry. But you don’t have a choice. You have to help me!”
“No! No way!”
I turned and tried to run.
But something held me back. The fog. It tightened around me.
The thick, wet mist. A choking mist. It drew around me, pushing me, holding me in place.
I tried to scream for help. But the fog muffled my cry.
Lucy vanished behind the black fog.
And then I felt something cold on the top of my head.
My hair tingled.
I reached up with both hands. And felt ice. As if a frost had settled over my hair.
“No!” I screamed. “Lucy—no!”
The cold sank down. My scalp itched. My face froze.
I rubbed my cheeks.
Numb.
Cold and numb.
“Lucy—please!” I begged.
I could feel her—so light, so cold—settling into my body. Sinking into my brain.
I could feel her. And I could feel myself slipping away.
Slipping… slipping…
As if drifting into a deep sleep.
The cold spreading over me. Sweeping down my neck. Down my chest.
“Nooooo!” I uttered a long howl of protest.
I shut my eyes tight. I knew I had to concentrate. I had to think hard. I had to keep awake. I couldn’t let myself fade away.
I couldn’t let her take over.
I couldn’t let her shove my mind aside. And take control. Take control of my body.
I set my jaw hard. And kept my eyes shut. And tightened every muscle.
No! I thought. No—you can’t do this to me, Lucy!
You can’t take my mind!
You can’t take over. You can’t—because I won’t let you!
The cold settled over me. My skin tingled. I felt numb all over.
And so sleepy… so sleepy…
22
“Nooooo!” I tossed back my head in another long howl.
If I can keep screaming, I can keep awake, I told myself.
And I can fight Lucy off. I can force her away.
“Noooooooo!” I wailed into the spinning, whirling fog.
“Noooooooo!”
And I felt the cold start to lift.
“Noooooo!”
I squeezed my arms. Rubbed my cheeks. And knew the feeling was returning.
“Noooooo!”
I suddenly felt lighter. And totally alert.
I did it! I realized. I fought her off!
But how long did I have before she tried to take over again?
I took a deep breath. Then another.
I’m breathing, I told myself. I’m me—and I’m breathing.
I felt stronger now. I lowered my head and darted into the fog.
My sneakers pounded the ground. I made my way to the cabin.
The lights were out. The other guys were in their bunks.
I burst inside and let the screen door slam behind me.
“What’s up?” Sam demanded.
I didn’t answer him. I ran across the room. Grabbed my brother. Shook him hard. “Come on. Hurry,” I ordered.
“Huh?” Alex squinted up at me sleepily.
I didn’t say another word. I tossed him his shorts and his sneakers.
I heard the other guys stirring. Joey sat up in his bed. “Harry—where were you?” he asked.
“Lights Out was ten minutes ago,” Sam said. “You’re going to get us all in trouble.”
I ignored them. “Alex—hurry!” I whispered.
As soon as he had his sneakers tied, I grabbed his arm and tugged him to the door. “Harry—what’s wrong?” he asked.
“Where are you two going?” I heard Joey call.
I pulled Alex outside. The screen door slammed behind us.
“Run!” I cried. “I’ll explain later. We have to get out of here—now!”
“But, Harry—”
I pulled Alex over the grass. The fog had parted enough to let a trail of moonlight slip through. We followed the trail to the woods.
Our sneakers slipped and slid over the wet grass. The only other sound was the chirp of crickets and the rush of wind rattling the pine trees.
After a minute or two, Alex wanted to stop to catch his breath.
“No,” I insisted. “Keep moving. They’ll follow us. They’ll find us.”
“Where are we going?” Alex demanded.
“Deep into the woods,” I told him. “As far away from that camp as we can.”
“But I can’t keep running, Harry,” Alex cried. “My side hurts and—”
“They’re all ghosts!” I blurted out. “Alex—I know you won’t believe me—but you’ve got to try. The kids. The counselors. Uncle Marv. They’re all ghosts!”
Alex’s expression grew solemn. “I know,” he replied in a tiny voice.
“Huh? How do you know?” I demanded.
We squeezed between two tangled tree trunks. Over the chirp of crickets, I could hear the lake washing over the shore just beyond some tall shrubs.
We’re still too close to the camp, I told myself.
I pulled my brother in the other direction. Away from the lake. Pushing aside tall weeds and shrubs, we made our own path, deeper into the woods.
“Alex—how do you know?” I repeated.
“Elvis told me,” he replied, wiping sweat off his forehead with his arm.
We ducked under a tall thorn bush. Thorns scraped the top of my head. I ignored the pain and kept moving.
“Elvis said the ghost story about the fog was true,” Alex continued. “I thought he was just trying to scare me. But then he—he—” Alex’s voice trailed off.
We ran into a small clearing. Moonlight made the grass glow like silver. My eyes flashed in one direction, then the other. I couldn’t decide which way to run.
I swatted a mosquito off my arm. “What did Elvis do?” I asked Alex.
Alex raked back his dark hair. “He tried to take over my mind,” he told me in a trembling voice. “He floated into the fog. And then I started to feel really cold.”
Twigs snapped. Dry leaves crackled.
Footsteps?
I shoved Alex back into the trees. Out of the clearing.
We pressed against a wide tree trunk and listened.
Silence now.
“Maybe it was a squirrel, or a chipmunk, or something,” Alex whispered.
�
��Maybe,” I replied, listening hard.
Moonlight trickled through the treetops. It made shadows dance over the smooth clearing.
“We have to keep going,” I said. “We’re still too close to the camp. If the ghosts follow us…”
I didn’t finish my thought. I didn’t want to think about what would happen if the ghosts followed us. If they caught us…
“Which way is the highway?” Alex asked, his eyes searching the trees. “It isn’t too far from the camp—right? If we can get to the highway, someone will give us a ride.”
“Good idea,” I said. Why hadn’t I thought of that?
Now here we were, in the middle of the woods. Far from the highway.
I didn’t even know which direction to go to find it.
“It must be back that way,” Alex suggested, pointing.
“No. That’s the way back to the camp,” I argued.
Alex started to reply—but a loud thumping sound made him stop. “Did you hear that?” he whispered.
I did.
And then I heard it again.
A loud thump. Very close by.
“Is it an animal?” I cried softly.
“I—I don’t think so,” Alex stammered.
KA-THUMP.
Louder.
Is it a ghost? I wondered.
Has one of them found us?
“Quick—this way!” I urged. I grabbed Alex by the wrist and tugged him hard.
We had to get away from whatever was making that frightening noise.
KA-THUMP.
Louder.
“We’re going the wrong way!” I cried.
We spun around and darted back into the clearing.
KA-THUMP.
“Which way?” Alex screeched. “Which way? It—it’s everywhere!”
KA-THUMP.
And then—from somewhere just ahead of us—a deep, booming voice growled, “WHY ARE YOU STANDING ON MY HEART?”
23
The ground tumbled and shook.
Alex and I both let out terrified cries.
But our cries were drowned out by a rumbling sound that quickly rose to a roar.
The ground gave way beneath us.
We both raised our arms high as we toppled over.
I landed on my hands and knees. Alex fell onto his back. The ground trembled and tossed, tumbling us around.