The Scream of the Haunted Mask

by R. L. Stine

  I pushed my hair out of my eyes, took another deep breath, and started across the basement to the storage room.

  I stopped when I passed my horse posters on the playroom wall. The horses were so beautiful. Once again, I pictured the horrifying stampede of screaming horses in that old stable.

  Would I ever be able to get that story out of my mind?

  I stepped slowly into the storage room and pulled the string to turn on the ceiling bulb. Blinking in the yellow light, I hurried to the pile of cartons in the corner.

  Oh, no.

  The black metal box. It sat on the basement floor in front of the cartons. Last night, I locked the mask back inside. But I was so freaked, I didn’t hide the box away.

  Now I bent down and lifted it off the floor with both hands.

  “Hey!” I let out a sharp cry. The mask! It was bumping against the sides of the box. Trying to escape.

  And this time, the whispered words didn’t come from Noah. They came from inside the box.

  “Almost Halloween … Almost Halloween …”

  A few days later, on Saturday afternoon, I was home babysitting Noah. So far, he wasn’t any trouble. He was in his room, and I could hear him laughing. He was watching the shows he thinks are so hilarious on the Disney Channel.

  I was sitting in my room, staring at a bottle of hair color I’d bought at the drug store. My plan was to put some blond highlights in my hair. A bold move.

  Maybe too bold. I decided to wait and talk to Sabrina about it.

  The phone rang, and it was Sabrina. “Did you hear about Sara David?”

  Sara is a girl in our class who changes her hair color all the time. And she told us she’s been wearing lipstick since she was five.

  “What about Sara?” I asked.

  “She went to the mall to buy a birthday present for her mother, and she got her nose pierced,” Sabrina said.

  “That’s a weird birthday present!” I said. We both laughed.

  “She has a tiny little diamond in her nose,” Sabrina said.

  “Does her mother know? Did Sara ask her first?” I asked.

  “No,” Sabrina replied. “She’s not going to say anything. Sara says no one ever pays any attention to her. She’s going to wait and see if anyone in her family notices.”

  “Cool,” I said.

  I heard Noah laughing his head off in the next room.

  “I had an idea,” Sabrina said.

  “You’re going to get your nose pierced?” I asked.

  “No. About school. You know that report we have to write? About local legends? I think I’m going to write mine about that abandoned stable.”

  I pictured the old stable. The walls falling in. Tall grass growing over the doors.

  “Such a creepy story. It will make a good report,” Sabrina said. “I’m going to interview Mrs. Lange next week. And I want to go take pictures inside the stable.”

  “Inside?” I said.

  “Yes. You know. All the empty stalls,” Sabrina said. “Come with me. Okay? Want to go now?”

  “I can’t,” I said. “I’m babysitting the Noah Animal.”

  I started to say I didn’t want to go back to that stable anyway. But I quickly changed my mind. This was the perfect time to prove that I was over my fears.

  “How about tonight after dinner?” Sabrina asked.

  “Sure,” I said. “Meet you at the bus stop.”

  I took a deep breath. It was just an abandoned stable.

  What could happen?

  The sun was dropping behind the trees as Sabrina and I rode the bus to the edge of town. I watched the shadows creep over the passing houses and lawns.

  We climbed off the bus at Tumbledown Farms. I saw only one light on in an upstairs window of the farmhouse. We turned away from the gravel path and made our way around the apple orchard.

  Insects buzzed in the field behind the house. I led the way to the stable, pushing the tall grass aside to make a path for us. The hard dirt crunched under our shoes.

  I heard animals scampering through the dry grass and weeds. The sky grew darker. Clouds covered the moon. I shivered as a gust of cold wind blew inside my jacket.

  “I brought a flashlight,” Sabrina said. I heard a click, and a circle of white light swept over the grass. “Look. There’s the stable.” She raised the light higher.

  I could see the long, low building, black against the pink-gray sky.

  “Ow!” I cried out as a sharp pain stung my forehead. A mosquito? In October? I slapped at it. Too late.

  “Come on. It’s getting really dark,” Sabrina said. She started to run. The beam of light bounced on the ground in front of her.

  “Wait up!” I called. My eyes were on the stable. The boards on one wall were cracked and rotting away. Another wall had fallen in.

  Weeds grew out of the windows. The window shutters were all broken and tilting to the ground.

  We hurried along the side of the stable toward the front. I stopped when my shoes sank into something soft. “Sabrina — look!” I called. But she was at the doors and didn’t hear me.

  I stared down at my shoes. I was standing in a small square of soft, chunky dirt. It looked as if it had been freshly dug up.

  A disturbing thought flashed into my mind: It’s a small grave.

  But that was crazy. Who would dig a grave back here?

  I kicked the dirt off my shoes and joined Sabrina at the double doors. One door was wide open. Solid blackness inside. And the sour smell of straw and dirt and decay.

  I could feel my heart start to pound a little harder. Birds cried in the trees behind us, as if warning us to stay away. I heard the low hoot hoot of a barn owl.

  I grabbed Sabrina’s arm.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  “I … brought something,” I said. I held up the plastic bag I’d been carrying. I pulled out a bunch of carrots.

  Sabrina raised the flashlight. “Carrots? Carly Beth — why?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know why,” I said. “For the ghost horses, I guess.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Are you getting weird or what? You don’t really believe in ghost horses — do you?”

  I didn’t answer. I took Sabrina’s hand and pulled her through the open door, into the dark stable.

  The sour smell grew stronger. The air felt heavy — cold and damp. Like stepping into a refrigerator.

  The wind banged a shutter against the side of the stable. Our shoes slid on dry straw as we walked toward the horse stalls. I tripped over a metal bucket and sent it rolling across the dirt floor.

  “Careful,” Sabrina whispered. She handed me the flashlight. “Hold this while I take pictures.” She raised her camera and clicked it on.

  I set the bunch of carrots down in front of the first stall. Then I swept the flashlight beam around the stable.

  The light rolled over two rows of stalls with low wooden walls. They stretched all the way to the back of the stable.

  A shredded blanket lay over one of the stall walls. It looked as if animals had chewed it to tatters.

  A high mound of straw was piled inside the first stall. I lowered the light to it, and a fat brown mouse leaped out and scurried under the wall.

  Startled, I jumped back. The light bounced up to the stable roof. Were those bats clinging upside down to the low rafters?

  Sabrina was busy flashing photo after photo. I pointed to the ceiling, and she flashed some pictures of the bats.

  “Over here,” she whispered. We made our way down the row of stalls. The air grew warmer and damper as we stepped deeper into the stable.

  “Carly Beth, move the light,” Sabrina said. “Check that out.”

  She pointed to a tall wooden stool lying on its side on the stable floor. She picked it up, set it down, and dusted it off with one hand.

  “Do you think the stable boy sat on this stool?” she asked. “Wouldn’t that be totally weird?”

  She didn’t give me a chance to answer. She
climbed onto the stool and shoved the camera into my hands. “Take my picture sitting on this. It will be great for the front of my report.”

  I raised the camera to my eye and clicked the shutter. The flash caught Sabrina sitting on the stool with both hands raised above her head in triumph.

  I flashed another one. The burst of light lingered in my eyes. I tried to blink it away.

  The tall stool appeared to glow in the lingering circle of light. Did the poor stable boy sit on that stool so long ago? Did it get knocked over in the stampede of panicked horses?

  I tried to force those thoughts from my mind.

  And then I heard a thud. A bumping sound from one of the back stalls.

  “Sabrina — did you hear that?” My voice came out in a hushed whisper.

  She froze beside me. “Yes. I … I heard it,” she whispered.

  We both stood still, listening hard.

  A shiver ran down my neck. “I have this weird feeling,” I murmured. “Like we’re being watched.”

  “It had to be a mouse or a raccoon or something,” Sabrina said.

  Another bump. And then I heard the rustle of straw.

  Then I heard something that sent a cold shudder down my spine.

  The low whinny of a horse.

  The flashlight fell out of my hand and clunked on the stable floor. I grabbed Sabrina’s arm. “You heard it, too?”

  Before she could answer — another horse whinny, louder this time. So close. So very close. From a stall near the back of the stable.

  “Yes. I hear it, too,” Sabrina whispered. She huddled close to me.

  We heard another bump. Like a horse bumping up against a stall wall. And then the rustle and scrape of hooves in straw.

  “The ghost story!” I whispered. “It’s true!” I was shaking. My throat closed up. I struggled to breathe.

  “It’s true, Sabrina. It’s all true!” I squeezed her arm.

  To my surprise, Sabrina burst out laughing. She stepped away from me.

  “Sabrina?”

  “I’m sorry, Carly Beth,” she said, shaking her head. “I can’t keep up the joke anymore. It’s too mean.”

  I was still shaking. I hugged myself, wrapping my arms around me. “Joke?”

  Sabrina cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted. “Okay, Chuck and Steve! You can come out now!”

  Okay. Okay. I started to get it. I started to figure out what was going on here.

  Sabrina grabbed my shoulder. “You don’t have to worry about ghost horses. It’s just another joke, Carly Beth,” she said. “It was Chuck’s idea. I’m sorry. They made me bring you here. I thought it would be funny.”

  My breathing slowly returned to normal. I wasn’t afraid anymore. I was angry. What was their problem?

  “Okay, dudes!” Sabrina shouted. “Where are you? Joke’s over. You can come out now!”

  She swung the flashlight around, beaming it from stall to stall.

  Silence. Except for the wind whistling through the cracks in the walls.

  “Chuck? Steve?” I called. “Very funny. Ha-ha. See? I’m laughing! You guys are a riot!”

  Silence. No sign of them.

  “We know you’re in here,” Sabrina said.

  I tugged Sabrina toward the back. “Come on. Those two jerks want to play hide-and-seek. Let’s find them.”

  We started at the rear stalls. Sabrina aimed the light and moved it around in each stall. A blackened saddle was half buried under a pile of straw in the first stall. The second stall had a dead field mouse, it’s body nearly eaten away by insects, its tiny skull poking out.

  “Come on. Come out, guys!” Sabrina shouted. “Joke’s over!”

  We moved quickly down the row of stalls till we were back where we started at the front of the stable. Sabrina frowned at me. “Where are they hiding? I know they’re here.”

  She lowered the flashlight.

  I glanced down — and gasped. “Sabrina — look! The carrots are gone!”

  I hugged myself to stop from shaking. “Sabrina, something very weird is going on here,” I whispered.

  “No, it isn’t,” she replied. Now she sounded angry. “Chuck and Steve took the carrots. I know they did. I don’t believe those two creeps.” She glanced around. “Where are they?”

  “Maybe they sneaked past us,” I said. “They grabbed the carrots and ran out of the stable while we were at the back.”

  “Maybe,” Sabrina said. She pulled her cell phone from her jeans pocket. “Let’s see. I’ll call Chuck.”

  I held the flashlight for her. She punched Chuck’s number on her phone. A few seconds later, she said. “Hey. Chuck? It’s Sabrina. Where are you?”

  A pause. Then: “You’re home? What do you mean you’re home? Steve is there, too? But what about the joke you wanted to play? Remember? Carly Beth? The old stable?”

  Standing next to Sabrina, I could hear Chuck’s loud groan pour out of the phone.

  Sabrina turned to me. “Do you believe it?” she said. “They’re both at Chuck’s house. It was their joke — and they forgot all about it!” She clicked her phone shut.

  I staggered back. My brain was spinning. If the boys weren’t here, who made the horse sounds? Sabrina and I both heard them. The low whinnying. The thud of hooves on straw.

  Sabrina chewed her bottom lip. Her dark eyes were wide. “I … think maybe I’m afraid now,” she murmured. “Let’s get out of here!”

  We both took off running. Through the open stable door. Across the field, the tall weeds and grass slapping at us as we ran.

  The harsh October wind forced us to lower our heads. Our shoes slipped and slid over patches of wet mud and grassy ground.

  Again I heard the low hoot hoot of an owl somewhere close by.

  And louder than the owl … another horse whinny. This time, shrill and pleading, as if calling after us.

  EEE-EEEE-EEEEEE!

  “Noooooo!” Sabrina and I both screamed as we tore through the field. Running full speed, our arms flying out at our sides, we screamed all the way to the bus stop at the road.

  Our wet shoes thudded on the pavement. We fell on each other, leaned on each other, breathing hard. Panting. The shrill horse cry still fresh in our ears.

  “Come on, bus,” I said, my eyes on the dark road. “Come on, bus — hurry!”

  “Where is that bus?” Sabrina groaned.

  The trees along the road creaked and shook in the wind. The clouds rolled away from the moon. Pale silver light floated down.

  I turned back. I could see the dark stable in the moonlight.

  I let out a cry when I saw the boy. A boy crouched on the flat stable roof. He was staring at us. Not moving. Just staring at us.

  I couldn’t move. I stood there staring back at him.

  How did he get up there? Did he make those noises?

  Who is he?

  “Jesse, did you take some of Colin’s Legos?” I held Jesse by the shoulders and gazed into his eyes.

  He looked away. “Maybe. But I needed them to finish my robot,” he said.

  “You wrecked my robot!” Colin cried. “And my robot was better than yours!”

  “Your robot looked like a rabbit!” Jesse shouted.

  “Did not! Your robot looked like a skunk!”

  Sabrina took Colin by the hand and led him to the table where the plastic blocks were scattered. She sat down beside him, and they started to build a new robot together.

  “Jesse, are you going to apologize to Colin?” I asked softly.

  He made a face at me. Then he yelled to Colin: “I’m sorry your robot looked like a dumb bunny rabbit!”

  Nice apology.

  After the kids had left, Mrs. Lange helped Sabrina, Laura, and me clean up. “I have to ask you something,” she said, shoving handfuls of Legos back into the box. “Can you girls work on Halloween?”

  We stopped and stared at her. “You mean Halloween night? What’s up?” I asked.

  “The parents asked if we co
uld have a party here for the kids,” she replied. “You know. Give them a nice, safe Halloween. Costumes, food, games. The whole deal. They’re willing to pay extra. And it will be early. You’ll still have plenty of time to go out afterward.”

  “I can do it,” Laura said, brushing back her hair with both hands. “No problem.”

  “Me, too,” Sabrina said. “Get paid for Halloween? That’s awesome!”

  “Count me in,” I said. After the horror of last year, a safe Halloween night with little kids sounded excellent to me.

  “I love Halloween parties,” Laura said. “Maybe we can have a jack-o’-lantern contest. And … I know! The kids can make their own masks. They’d like that — right?”

  “I like your enthusiasm,” Mrs. Lange said. She grabbed a broom and started to sweep the floor. “Carly Beth, maybe you know some good ghost stories you can tell the kids.”

  “Whoa.” I shook my head. “I keep thinking about the ghost of the stable boy. Too creepy. Maybe we could skip the ghost stories this year!”

  We said good night to Mrs. Lange. Sabrina had to get home early because some cousins were coming for dinner. Laura headed home, too.

  I couldn’t help myself. I walked out of the back door and started toward the apple orchard. I knew where I was going. To the abandoned stable. I couldn’t stop myself. I had to see it again.

  The sun had already dropped behind the trees. It was a clear, cool evening.

  I crossed the field through the tall grass swaying in the soft breeze. I walked along the side of the stable until I came to the patch of freshly dug dirt.

  I gazed at it. What a puzzle. Someone was digging on this spot recently. But who? And why?

  No way to answer those questions. I stepped around the square of dirt and hurried into the stable.

  The sharp smell of hay and mud greeted me. Gray light slanted in through the small stable windows and through a large hole in the roof.

  I glanced around quickly. The stable was empty. I saw the tattered blanket over the stall wall. And low piles of straw along one wall with thousands of little insects crawling over them.

  I turned to leave. But I froze when I heard a scraping sound.