by R. L. Stine
“‘If the monster gets out… and you do kill it… and escape from the house—stay on the road. Do NOT go into the swamp.’”
Clark rolled his eyes. He let out a loud groan.
“Keep reading!” I shouted. “Read!”
He squinted in the dark and went on. “‘The monster’s brothers and sisters live in the swamp—dozens of them. We think they are out there. Waiting for him.’”
My heart started to race as Clark continued.
“‘We’ve seen the monsters in the swamp. We’ve heard them whistling to each other every night. They’re unhappy their brother was captured. They’re waiting for him to return. So whatever you do, stay out of the swamp. It’s not safe out there. Stay out of the swamp! Good luck! We love you.’”
Clark’s hands dropped to his sides. The letter fell to the marshy ground.
I turned slowly, staring out at the shifting shadows.
“Gretchen.” Clark choked out my name. “Do you hear that? What is that sound? What is it?”
“Uh… it sounds like a whistle.”
“Th-that’s what I thought,” he whispered. “What do we do now? Any ideas?”
“No, Clark,” I replied softly. “I don’t have any more ideas. How about you?”
Scanning, formatting and
proofing by Undead.