by R. L. Stine
As if some kind of animal had clawed them, clawed them to shreds.
4
“Hannah—did you see this?” I called. I couldn’t take my eyes off the shredded curtains.
She stood across the driveway, leaning her back against my aunt and uncle’s house. “I don’t want to come over there,” she said softly, folding her arms over her chest.
“But the curtains—” I started.
“I told you they’re weird,” Hannah said sharply. “And they don’t like kids gawking through their windows. Come on, Alex.”
I backed away from the Marlings’ house. My shoe caught on a raised floorboard of the rotting porch, and I nearly fell.
“Are we going to the woods or not?” Hannah asked impatiently.
“Sorry.” I pulled my shoe free and followed her toward the back. “Tell me more about the Marlings,” I said, jogging to catch up to her. “Tell me some of the frightening stories you heard about them.”
“No way,” Hannah replied in her breathy voice.
We trotted across my aunt and uncle’s backyard. The tall yellow and red trees of the woods, tilting in afternoon shadows, stretched beyond the smooth lawn.
“Please?” I begged.
“Maybe in a few days, after Halloween,” Hannah replied. “After the full moon.”
I followed Hannah’s gaze to the sky. A bright white moon—almost round as a tennis ball—rose over the trees, even though it was still daylight.
Hannah shuddered. “I hate when the full moon comes,” she said. “I’ll be so happy when it’s gone.”
“Why?” I demanded. “What’s the big deal about a full moon?”
She gazed back at the Marlings’ house. And didn’t reply.
We made our way through the trees. The fading sunlight filtered through the leaves, sending shimmering spots of gold over the ground. Our shoes crackled over twigs and dead leaves.
I found a gnarled old tree, bent over like an old man. The bark was pitted and wrinkled like aged brown skin. Fat gray roots reached up from the dirt.
“Wow! This is so cool!” I declared, pulling my camera from the case.
Hannah laughed. “You really are a city kid.”
“But—look at this tree!” I declared. “It’s like—it’s like it’s alive!”
She laughed again. “Trees are alive, Alex!”
“You know what I mean,” I grumbled.
I started to snap photos of the bent, old tree. I stepped back and leaned against a tilted birch tree. I tried to frame the old tree so that its shape looked human.
Then I moved all around the tree, photographing its creases, its wrinkles. I shot one slender branch that lowered itself to the ground like a weary arm.
I dropped down to my knees and snapped the roots reaching up from the ground like skinny legs.
A soft buzz made me raise my gaze. A hummingbird hovered over a flowering weed. I turned and tried to capture the tiny bird in my camera lens.
But the hummingbird was too fast for me. It darted away before I could snap my shutter.
I climbed to my feet. Hannah was sitting cross-legged on the ground, crunching dead leaves between her hands.
“Doesn’t that hummingbird know summer is over?” I murmured.
She stared at me blankly, as if she had forgotten I was there. “Oh. Sorry, Alex. I didn’t see it.” She climbed to her feet.
“What happens if you keep going straight?” I asked, pointing deeper into the woods.
“You come to Wolf Creek,” Hannah replied. “I’ll show you the creek next time. But we’d better get going. We should get out of the woods before the sun goes down.”
I suddenly thought of the wolves Uncle Colin had told me about. The wolves that gave Wolf Creek its name.
“The wolves that used to live here in these woods,” I said. “They’re all gone—right?”
Hannah nodded. “Yes. They’re gone.”
And then a shrill howl rose up—so close, so close behind me. The high, shrill wail of a wolf.
And I opened my mouth in a terrified scream.
5
I stumbled back against the birch tree. My camera banged against the trunk, but I didn’t drop it.
“Hannah—?” I choked out. Her eyes were wide with surprise.
But before she could reply, two boys burst out from behind a tall evergreen shrub. They tossed back their heads and howled like wolves.
“Hey—you guys!” Hannah exclaimed, making a disgusted face.
They were both short and thin, both with straight black hair and dark brown eyes. They finished their howls, then gazed at me, gazed at me hungrily, like wolves.
“Did we scare you?” one of them teased, his dark eyes flashing excitedly. He wore a dark brown sweater pulled down over black denim jeans. He had a long purple wool muffler wrapped around his neck.
“You two always scare me!” Hannah joked. “Your faces give me nightmares!”
The other boy wore a baggy gray sweatshirt and baggy khakis that dragged on the ground. He tossed back his head and let out another shrill wolf howl.
Hannah turned to me. “They’re in my class,” she explained. “That one is Sean Kiner.” She pointed to the boy with the purple muffler. “And he’s Arjun Khosla.”
“Arjun?” I struggled with the name.
“It’s Indian,” he explained.
“Hannah told us you were coming,” Sean said, grinning.
“You’re a city kid, right?” Arjun asked.
“Well, yeah. Cleveland,” I murmured.
“So how do you like Wolf Creek?” Arjun asked. It didn’t sound like a question. It sounded like a challenge.
They both stared at me with their dark eyes, studying me as if I were some kind of weird fungus.
“I—I just got here,” I stammered.
They exchanged glances. “There are some things you should know about the woods,” Sean said.
“Like what?” I asked.
He pointed to my feet. “Like you shouldn’t stand in a big clump of poison ivy!”
“Huh?” I jumped back. And stared at the ground.
They both laughed.
There wasn’t any poison ivy.
“You guys are about as funny as dog puke,” Hannah sneered.
“You ought to know. You eat it for breakfast!” Sean replied.
He and Arjun laughed and slapped each other a high five.
Hannah sighed. “Remind me to laugh later,” she muttered, rolling her eyes.
For some reason, that started the two boys howling again.
When they stopped, Sean reached for my camera. “Can I see it?”
“Well…” I pulled back. “It’s a very expensive camera,” I told him. “I really don’t like anyone else touching it.”
“Ooooh. Expensive!” he teased. “Is it cardboard? Let me see it!” He grabbed for it again.
“Take my picture,” Arjun demanded. He pulled his lips apart with two fingers and stuck out his tongue.
“That’s an improvement!” Hannah told him.
“Take my picture!” Arjun repeated.
“Give Alex a break,” Hannah snapped. “Get out of his face, you two.”
Arjun pretended to be hurt. “Why won’t he take my picture?”
“Because he doesn’t take animal photos!” Hannah sneered.
Sean laughed—and snatched the camera from my hands.
“Hey—come on!” I pleaded. I made a grab for it and missed.
Sean tossed the camera to Arjun. Arjun raised it and pretended to snap Hannah’s photo. “Your face cracked the lens!” he exclaimed.
“I’m going to crack your face!” Hannah threatened.
“It’s a really expensive camera,” I repeated. “If anything happens to it—”
Hannah swiped the camera out of Arjun’s hands and handed it back to me.
I cradled it in my arms. “Thanks.”
The two boys moved toward me menacingly. Their dark eyes gleamed. Again, watchin
g them approach, their faces so hard, their eyes so cold, I thought of wild animals.
“Leave him alone,” Hannah scolded.
“We’re just goofing,” Arjun replied. “We weren’t going to hurt the camera.”
“Yeah. We’re just kidding around,” Sean added. “What’s your problem?”
“No problem,” I replied, still cradling the camera.
Arjun raised his eyes to the darkening sky. Through the trees I could see only gray. “It’s getting kind of late,” Arjun murmured.
Sean’s smile faded. “Let’s get out of here.” His eyes darted around the woods. Shadows deepened, and the air grew colder.
“They say some kind of wild creatures are loose in the woods,” Arjun said softly.
“Arjun—give us a break,” Hannah groaned, rolling her eyes.
“No. Really,” Arjun insisted. “Some kind of creature tore off a deer’s head. Tore it clean off.”
“We saw it,” Sean reported. His dark eyes glowed excitedly in the dimming light. “It was so gross!”
“The deer’s eyes stared up at us,” Arjun added. “And bugs crawled out of its open neck.”
“Yuck!” Hannah exclaimed, covering her mouth with one hand. “You’re making this up—right?”
“No. I’m not.” Sean glanced up at the moon.
“It’s almost a full moon. The full moon makes all the strange creatures come out of hiding,” he continued, speaking so softly, his voice just above a whisper. “Especially at Halloween. And the moon will be completely full that night.”
I shivered. The back of my neck tingled. I suddenly felt cold all over.
Was it the wind? Or Sean’s frightening words?
I pictured the deer head lying on the ground.
Pictured the shiny black eyes staring up blankly, lifelessly.
“What are you going to be for Halloween?” Arjun asked Hannah.
She shrugged. “I don’t know. I haven’t decided yet.”
He turned to me. “Do you know what you want to be, Alex?”
I nodded. “Yeah. I want to be a werewolf.”
Arjun uttered a near-silent gasp. The two boys exchanged glances.
Their smiles faded. Their faces turned solemn.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
No reply.
“Hey—what’s wrong?” I repeated.
Arjun lowered his gaze to the ground. “We have enough werewolves in Wolf Creek,” he murmured.
“What do you mean?” I cried. “Come on, guys—what do you mean by that?”
But they didn’t answer.
Instead, they turned and vanished into the woods.
6
Aunt Marta invited Hannah to stay for dinner. The four of us squeezed around the small kitchen table and spooned up big bowls of steaming chicken soup.
“You make the best soup!” Hannah told my aunt.
Aunt Marta smiled. A little broth dripped down her chin. She reached for her napkin. “Thank you, Hannah. I just throw everything in it I can find.”
“Sorry we were late for dinner,” I said. “I lost track of time. I didn’t want to leave the woods. It was so interesting.”
Uncle Colin’s eyes moved to the kitchen window. He stared up at the rising moon. Then he lowered his gaze to the Marlings’ house next door.
“I photographed an awesome-looking tree,” I told him. “It was wrinkled and bent over like an old man.”
Uncle Colin didn’t reply. His eyes were still focused out the window.
“Colin—Alex is talking to you,” Aunt Marta scolded.
“Huh? Oh.” He turned back to the table, shaking his head as if shaking away his thoughts. “Sorry. What were you saying?”
I told him again about the old tree.
“I’ll help you develop those shots,” he offered. “Maybe tomorrow. I set up a darkroom in the little bathroom in the attic. We really need a bigger house. Especially with all the work we’ve been doing lately.”
“What are you photographing now?” I asked.
“Creatures of the night,” he replied. His eyes wandered to the window again. I followed his gaze to the Marlings’ back window. Totally dark.
“We’re photographing nocturnal animals,” Aunt Marta explained. “Animals that come out only at night.”
“You mean like owls?” Hannah asked.
Aunt Marta nodded. “We’ve found some wonderful owls in the woods—haven’t we, Colin?”
Uncle Colin turned back from the window. Silvery light from the full moon washed over the windowpane. “The night creatures don’t like to be photographed,” he said, spooning up a carrot and chewing it slowly. “They are very private.”
“Sometimes we wait in one spot for hours,” my aunt added. “Waiting for a creature to poke its head up from its hole in the ground.”
“Can I come with you one night?” I asked eagerly. “I can be real quiet. Really.”
Uncle Colin swallowed a chunk of chicken. “That’s a fine idea,” he said. But then his expression grew solemn. And he added, “Maybe after Halloween.”
I turned and saw Aunt Marta staring out at the Marlings’ house. “The moon is still low,” she said thoughtfully. “But it’s so bright tonight.”
“Almost like daylight out there,” Uncle Colin said. What was that expression that quickly passed over his face? Was it fear?
My aunt and uncle are both acting so weird tonight, I decided. So nervous.
Why do they keep staring out the window? What do they expect to see at the Marlings’ house?
I couldn’t hold it in any longer. “Is everything okay?” I asked them.
“Okay?” Uncle Colin narrowed his eyes at me. “I guess…”
“Are you two thinking about your Halloween costumes?” Aunt Marta demanded, changing the subject.
“I think I’m going to be a pirate again this year,” Hannah replied. She finished her chocolate milk and licked the chocolate syrup on the edge of the glass. “You know. I’ll wrap a bandanna around my head and wear a patch over one eye.”
“Colin and I might have some funny old clothes you can wear,” Aunt Marta offered. She turned to me. “How about you, Alex?”
I still wanted to be a werewolf. But I remembered the last time I’d told that to my aunt and uncle. Uncle Colin had nearly cracked up the car!
So I smiled and quietly told them, “Maybe I’ll be a pirate too.”
I spooned up the last of my soup.
I had no way of knowing that in a few hours, when the moon rose to its peak in the sky, I’d be nearly face-to-face with a real werewolf.
7
After Hannah went home, I made my way to my little bedroom. I straightened up a bit, shoving clothes into the dresser drawers.
I’m not the neatest person in the world. Let’s face it—I’m a total slob. But I knew if I let the clutter pile up in this tiny room, I’d never find anything.
I sat down at the desk and wrote a short letter to Mom and Dad. I told them everything was fine. I wrote that I’d have at least a thousand great photographs to show them when they came home from France.
When I finished addressing the letter, I wasn’t feeling sleepy. But I decided I should probably go to bed, anyway.
I started to the closet to find my pajamas. But I stopped at the window.
And stared out at a pale orange light.
A light in a side window of the Marlings’ house!
The light shimmered between two tilting trees, their leaves vibrating in the wind. A pale orange rectangle of light on the bottom floor of the house, near the back.
A bedroom window?
I pressed closer to the glass and squinted hard into the darkness. Squinted into the dim rectangle of orange.
Was I about to see one of the Marlings? I held my breath and waited.
I didn’t have to wait long.
I let out a gasp as a silhouette crossed the window next door. A gray figure caught in the rectangle of orange.
Was it
a man?
I couldn’t tell.
The silhouette moved. It’s an animal, I realized.
No. A man.
Mr. Marling?
I pressed against the glass, squinting hard. Was it a large dog? A man? I couldn’t see clearly.
The silhouette moved away from the window.
And then I heard a long, high animal wail.
The sound floated out through the window next door. Floated across the narrow space between our houses.
The high, animal howl swept into my room. Swirled around me.
Such an ugly, frightening sound. Half-human, half-animal. A cry I had never heard before.
A chill rolled down my back. And then another.
Another howl made me gasp.
I stared out as the silhouette returned to the window. A creature with its head tilted back. Its jaws open, uttering such frightening animal cries.
I’ve got to take a picture, I told myself. I’ve got to photograph the howling silhouette.
I spun away from the window. Dove across the tiny room to the dresser.
Reached for my camera.
My camera?
It was gone.
8
“No—!” I uttered a shocked cry.
My hands fumbled frantically over the desktop.
I left the camera there. I knew I had.
But no. No camera.
My eyes swept around the room. I had just straightened up. Everything was in place. The desktop. The dresser.
No camera. No camera.
I dropped to my knees and searched under the bed.
No camera.
I crawled over to the closet. Pulled open the door. And searched the closet floor.
As I searched, another wolf howl burst into my room. Higher. Shriller.
And then I heard two howls together. The sirenlike wails blending in a strange, sour harmony.
Was it Mr. and Mrs. Marling?
As I climbed to my feet, I heard a scraping sound. Wood against wood.
The sound of a window opening.
I heard a heavy THUD.
Feet landing hard on the ground.