by R. L. Stine
“Did it cut you?” Aaron exclaimed.
“No,” Sarah gasped. “It went through my dress and into the floor.” She struggled to stand up. The knife held her skirts pinned to the floor.
She was trapped.
Sarah heard the humming sound. She glanced over her shoulder. Another knife hovered above her.
She threw herself to the side. Riiip. Her skirt tore free.
Sarah knocked into one of the bookcases. Books fell off the shelves. Hitting her on the head, the arms, the legs.
One of the books knocked the knife to the ground and pinned it to the floor. Aaron yanked her to her feet.
Then Sarah heard it.
The tiny sound of metal scraping against wood.
Across the library, the knife that had buried itself into the wall was working its way out. The handle moved back and forth, back and forth.
She heard another sound at her feet.
The second knife was pulling itself out of the floor. The third was inching out from under the heavy book.
And the others. Where were the others?
“Run!” Aaron cried. He pushed her toward the door.
Two knives darted in front of them and hovered there. Blocking the way.
Sarah and Aaron turned. And two more knives sped toward them. The knives stopped inches from them.
Another knife appeared. Then another.
Until all ten knives formed a circle around Aaron and Sarah. There was nowhere to run. No way to escape.
The humming of the knives grew louder and louder. It filled Sarah’s head. It made her teeth ache.
One of the knives darted forward. It slashed Aaron across the back of the hand. He yelped in pain.
Sarah stared down at Aaron’s hand. At first it appeared unharmed. Then a dark red line appeared across it. And his blood began to drip onto the thick carpet.
The knife retreated.
Aaron leaned down and whispered in her ear. “Under them. We have to go under them.”
He grabbed her hand and pulled her to the floor. Sarah scrambled under the circle of knives. Then she shoved herself to her feet.
Aaron threw open the library door and dashed through, Sarah on his heels.
Sarah heard the sound of metal clicking against metal. She glanced over her shoulder, and saw that the knives had clustered together. Forming a pack.
They flew at Sarah.
She ran faster, racing through the entryway. She could hear them behind her. Hear their horrible humming.
They had her.
“Noooo!” Sarah screamed.
The knives flew past her.
Sarah wrapped her arms around herself. She couldn’t stop shaking. What happened? Why didn’t they attack her?
She heard Aaron pound up the long staircase leading to the second floor. The knives raced after him.
I’ve got to help him. Sarah forced herself to run up the stairs after Aaron.
Sarah’s stomach turned over when she noticed the bright red drops of blood dotting the white marble stairs.
Aaron screamed. A high, shrill scream. Sarah didn’t know a man could make a sound like that.
She dashed up the last few steps and turned the corner.
Aaron lay in the hallway. Writhing. Twisting and turning, trying to escape the knives.
The knives—
Sarah let out a moan.
The knives clustered around Aaron’s left leg. Slashing into his thigh again and again.
Dark red blood flowed freely, staining his clothes and puddling thickly on the floor. Sarah could smell it. It smelled like the knives. Like silver.
She heard the sound of metal scraping against bone. Aaron shrieked in agony.
Snap!
Aaron’s thighbone broke.
All at once, the knives clattered to the floor.
They lay still.
Aaron rolled over. Sarah felt her eyes widen. She stared at his leg.
Aaron’s leg, his leg … had been severed from his body.
Chapter
5
My dearest friend,
If you do not write to me soon, I think I will never forgive you. May I remind you that you are my best and oldest friend. Thomas keeps saying I should make new friends in Shadyside. But it is not easy. I compare everyone to you and no one measures up.
A ghastly thing happened here a few days ago. Aaron West, an old school chum of Thomas’s, suffered a bizarre accident. Did you ever hear of him? He’s from New York too.
Aaron was carrying some knives, and he fell. Somehow the knives cut off his leg, and he bled to death. And I saw it happen. It was hideous, so hideous I can hardly bear to write about it.
I couldn’t stop screaming. Thomas called the doctor for me. He gave me something to make me sleep, and I had the most horrible nightmare. In my dream the knives were alive. They flew through the air and attacked Aaron.
The dream was so real. When I woke up I felt convinced that it had actually happened.
Liza Teasedale, the woman I mentioned in my last letter, told me some awful stories about the Fear family the same day as Aaron’s accident. She claimed the Fears are cursed and that they may even practice the dark arts.
I believe Mrs. Teasedale’s stories of dark magic and the horror of witnessing Aaron’s accident mixed together in my nightmare.
I imagine this letter makes you feel very happy that you are far away from Shadyside. I hope you are enjoying your travels. You must write and tell me all about your adventures at once.
Love,
Your dearest friend
Sarah placed the letter in an envelope and carefully wrote the address on the front. It’s such a beautiful morning, she thought. I think I’ll have Phillip drive me to town so I can mail this myself.
Sarah hurried outside and asked Phillip to bring the carriage around. She enjoyed the short ride. Birds twittered cheerfully in the trees that lined the road.
“I’ll just be a moment,” she told Phillip when he pulled up in front of the general store.
She posted her letter and headed back to the carriage. She realized she didn’t want her outing to end. She didn’t want to return to the dark, gloomy house.
“Phillip?” she called up to her driver. “You can go on home.”
“I beg your pardon, ma’am?”
“My husband said he would be at the mill today. I am going to walk over and pay him a visit,” she told him. “I will ride home with Mr. Fear.”
“Very well, ma’am.”
She felt her spirits rise as the carriage rode away, the horses’ hooves raising small clouds of dust. The covered black carriage had begun to feel as confining as a coffin.
Sarah started her walk. How would Thomas react when she showed up at his place of work? She had never even considered doing so before now. He was so private about much of his life.
But maybe this was just the kind of gesture that could help their marriage. She wanted to feel close to Thomas again.
She had let her imagination get completely out of control. Her belief that she saw knives flying through the air proved that. It had taken Thomas hours to convince her that the flying knives were part of a nightmare.
She promised herself that she would put all thoughts of curses and the dark arts out of her mind. Thomas had been so worried about her after Aaron’s terrible accident.
That proved that he loved her. He is a good man, Sarah told herself. He would never want to hurt her. He would never want to hurt anyone.
Sarah started the steep climb to Thomas’s mill. It was a large white clapboard structure built right up against the waterfall on the outskirts of town. The waterfall drove the mill’s huge wooden waterwheel, which turned the huge granite millstones inside.
Several farmers rode past her as Sarah strolled onto the mill lawn. Their carts were laden with sacks of flour. She waved cheerfully. The farmers nodded back without smiling.
This town, Sarah thought. Sometimes she hated living here.
&nbs
p; What if she could convince Thomas to leave? They could go someplace where no one had ever heard of the Fear family. Maybe that would solve all their problems.
She entered the large, barnlike mill. It was dark inside. The air felt thick with grain dust. It smelled like new-mown hay.
In the center of the room sat the mill itself—two huge granite wheels. The massive stone wheels filled almost the whole room.
Sarah inched her way through the dark room, careful to stay clear of the hot granite millstones. So huge. So powerful. She had heard the stories. Workers who had lost fingers, whole hands.
The stones moved ever so slowly. But Thomas had once told her that there was nothing that could stop them. Nothing.
Sarah spotted Thomas over by the cistern. Sarah knew the farmers’ horses always stopped to take a drink from the huge pool of cold water.
She headed toward Thomas. It felt strange to watch her husband when he didn’t know she was there. Thomas had taken off his suit jacket and vest, and rolled up his white shirtsleeves to the elbow.
Sarah was struck—harder than she had been in a long time—by how handsome Thomas was. The dark hair, the strong jaw, the flashing eyes.
But what was this?
Thomas and the foreman appeared to be arguing.
Sarah froze. She felt her heart begin to race. They both appeared so angry.
Their voices rose to a shout. The foreman gestured angrily. His hand caught Thomas across the chest.
Thomas staggered back. The foreman reached for Thomas’s arm.
But it was too late.
Thomas fell backward.
He landed with a loud splash, right in the cistern of water.
Sarah’s heart seemed to stop beating.
Thomas flailed his arms, his mouth open wide in a silent scream.
Sarah wanted to run to him, to help him. But she couldn’t move.
Sarah heard a loud hissing sound. Then a cloud of steam rose from the well.
Steam? she thought stupidly. How could the cool water of the well give off steam?
The steam filled the room, coming at Sarah in hot waves. Hot steam. Burning her face, her hands.
And then the pool of water began to churn and bubble, like a pot of water that has been on the stove for hours!
The bubbles came faster, faster. The well churned and gurgled.
Thomas was screaming. Screaming in agony.
He was burning alive!
Chapter
6
Sarah tried to run to Thomas. She had to pull him out of the boiling water.
But she couldn’t move—not a muscle!
Sarah tried to open her mouth to scream, but she could not even move her jaw.
What was happening to her? What was wrong with her body?
“Help!” Thomas shouted, his voice filled with terror. “It’s—it’s burning!”
The foreman knelt next to the cistern and stretched out his hand toward Thomas. Thomas tried to grab it. But his wet fingers were too slippery.
Thomas disappeared under the surface of the bubbling water.
Help him! Sarah screamed at herself. Why are you standing here like a statue? Run and help Thomas! Move! Now! Go!
But it was as if she had died. She couldn’t even turn her head.
Thomas’s head burst through the surface of the water. He gasped and choked. His skin had turned bright red.
Sarah began to sweat, great waves of terror crashing through her.
Terror for Thomas, and terror for herself.
Helplessly, she watched the water boiling and spitting and bubbling around Thomas. He stared at her pleadingly.
Then Thomas went under again.
And still she could not move. Still she was helpless, forced to watch her husband burn, drown, die.
The foreman flung a rope into the hissing water. Sarah saw Thomas’s red hands reaching for the rope’s frayed edge.
Please let him catch it, she prayed.
He grabbed the rope in both hands! Yes!
The foreman’s neck muscles bulged with the strain as he slowly pulled Thomas from the scalding water.
Sarah stumbled forward. She could move again!
She ran toward Thomas and dropped to her knees beside him. Large white blisters covered his face and hands.
Was he alive? Could he have survived the scalding water?
Sarah was afraid to touch him. She was afraid his burned skin would peel away from his body if she did.
“Thomas,” she whispered. “Can you hear me?”
He did not answer.
♦ ♦ ♦
“You were frightened, Sarah. That’s all,” Thomas told her.
His cracked lips began to bleed. She could tell that speaking was agonizing for him.
“Don’t try to talk,” Dr. Pierce ordered him.
“You were frightened,” Thomas insisted.
“Yes, Thomas, I was frightened. But it was more than that. I was paralyzed. And don’t say another word. I beg you.”
“It is only natural,” Thomas went on, ignoring her command to be silent. “Everyone feels foolish and freezes in an emergency.”
Sarah knew that wasn’t what happened. She had been unable to move a single muscle. She couldn’t even open her lips to scream.
“You could have been killed,” she said softly. “And I was powerless to help you.” Sarah shook her head, tears welling up in her eyes.
Sarah stared down at Thomas. Ointment coated his face. Linen bandages covered his entire body. He had been in terrible pain when Dr. Pierce put them on.
“Do not worry,” Dr. Pierce told her, closing up his medical kit. “These burns look bad, but they will heal. I promise you. Thomas will do just fine. He just needs to rest. Make sure he has few visitors.”
“I will make sure,” Sarah promised.
“Such bad luck,” Dr. Pierce said, shaking his head. “The one day that well turns hot.”
Bad luck? Sarah thought wildly. Something unnatural had happened at the mill. Something evil. How could the doctor dismiss it as bad luck?
Dr. Pierce must have noted the expression on her face, for he continued. “The well is driven by volcanic pressure. From time to time steaming water comes up through the well.” He shook his head again. “Such bad luck!”
Sarah felt herself flushing red with embarrassment. So there was a simple explanation for today’s disaster, after all.
At least for the boiling water.
She knew if she told the doctor that she had been paralyzed, he would agree with Thomas. He would tell her that she was simply frightened.
But that couldn’t possibly be true. Could it?
I was more frightened than I have ever been, Sarah thought.
“I will be back to check on our patient tomorrow,” Dr. Pierce said.
She thanked the doctor and saw him to the door. Then she hurried back up the stairs and returned to Thomas’s bedside.
She vowed to herself that she would stay up all night, keeping watch over her sick husband.
The scene at the mill replayed in her mind again and again. The steam, the boiling water, Thomas screaming for help.
And whenever she closed her eyes, she could feel that awful sensation of being trapped inside her own skin. Unable to move a muscle.
A terrible wracking cough from Thomas pulled her out of her thoughts.
It was a horrible cough that sounded as if it came from deep in his lungs.
He turned, moaned softly, but kept sleeping.
She could see sweat wetting the bandages on his chest. And when she gently felt his forehead in the darkness, he felt as if he were on fire, as if she had reached her hand inside a furnace.
Thomas’s coughing continued through the night.
The horrible coughs seemed to echo in Sarah’s mind.
Taking her all the way back to her childhood.
When she was seven, her mother had passed on after a terrible bout of—
She stood, covering her mou
th in horror as Thomas coughed yet again.
Sarah ran from the room, shouting for the maid.
She had one of the servants get word to Dr. Pierce to return at once.
He arrived an hour later. The sun was just beginning to rise.
It took him only a few minutes of examination before he confirmed her worst fears.
Pneumonia. Thomas had pneumonia.
He looked so pale, almost as white as the pillowcase beneath his head. His eyes had dark shadows beneath them.
“Now, don’t look at me like that,” Dr. Pierce told Sarah. He gave a forced chuckle. “Pneumonia is not so terrible an illness for a strong, healthy young man like your husband. Obviously, it would be better if this had not happened. But my prediction hasn’t changed. Your husband will be fine.”
He is lying, Sarah thought. Her heart felt heavy with dread.
Thomas began to shiver horribly.
“It is the fever,” Dr. Pierce explained, when Sarah turned to him with a pleading look.
“I am so cold,” Thomas murmured.
“You feel cold,” Dr. Pierce agreed, “but I’m afraid you are running a high fever, my good man.”
Sarah hurried to the closet. Yesterday, she couldn’t help him when he needed her most. She would try to make up for it today, try to see to his every whim and need.
She found an old robe hanging in the closet, one which she could not remember him wearing in months. She pulled so hard on the robe that the wooden hanger snapped back against the wall with a loud crack.
As she hurried over to the bed with the robe, something fell to the floor at her feet.
She bent down. An envelope had fallen from Thomas’s robe. An envelope addressed to Sarah Burns.
Sarah glanced at her husband. So frail and sickly and shrunken as he lay in the bed.
He must have slipped the envelope in his pocket and forgotten to tell her about it.
She returned to his bedside, studying the stamps. She was hoping the letter had come from Europe. From her best friend. But it was not the case.
Dr. Pierce and Thomas were both watching her. They looked as curious as she felt.
“It’s a letter,” she explained. “I found it in your old robe, Thomas. You must have forgotten to give it to me.”
“I am so sorry,” he murmured in a faint voice. “I only barely remember it coming for you.”