by R. L. Stine
Hooves in the straw? No. It sounded more like human footsteps.
I spun around. And shouted: “Is anyone here?”
Silence.
And then another scraping sound.
My eyes searched each stall. I knew I wasn’t alone. But I couldn’t see anyone.
“Oh!” I uttered a cry as a boy appeared beside me.
He had dark brown hair cut very short. And deep black eyes. They appeared even darker because of his pale skin.
He wore a brown-and-black flannel shirt and torn jeans.
“Who are you?” I cried, stepping away from him. “What are you doing here?”
A strange lopsided smile spread over his face. “I live here,” he said.
“I … I don’t understand,” I stammered. I couldn’t stop staring into those deep, sad eyes. “No one lives here. This stable …”
The boy shook his head. The lopsided smile lingered on his face. “I mean, my family lives nearby,” he said. He spoke slowly, with a slight drawl. “I come here a lot,” he said, “because it’s so peaceful.”
I had a sudden urge to reach out and grab him. Grab his arm. See if it was solid. See if he was real.
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
“I … I work at the farm. After school, I mean. With kids.” I was stammering like an idiot. He could see I was kind of freaked. “My name is Carly Beth.”
“I’m Clark,” he said. “I think I scared you, popping out like that. Sorry.”
“It’s okay,” I said.
“Do you know the story of this stable?” he asked. “It’s a pretty scary place.” He laughed. “Maybe that’s why I like to come here.” His eyes burned into mine. “Think it’s twisted to like scary things?”
His question sent a chill down my back. Maybe it was the way he asked it, staring at me like he could read my mind or something.
“I … heard the story,” I replied. “It’s horrible. Those poor horses …”
He frowned at me. “Excuse me? You care more about the horses? What about the stable boy?”
“It … it’s all horrible,” I choked out. “You know, my friend Sabrina and I were here last Saturday. And we … we heard horses. Whinnying here in this stable.”
Clark laughed. He had a funny laugh. Kind of dry. It sounded like he was choking.
“You must have a good imagination,” he said. “I come here all the time. And I never hear horses. Field mice, maybe. But never horses.”
“It wasn’t field mice,” I said. “That I know for sure.”
He kicked a pile of straw. Hundreds of insects went swarming across the stable floor. “Such a sad place,” he said softly. “It’s weird to think about it.”
I wondered if Clark knew anything about the mask. I was dying to know if the stable boy’s mask was the same evil mask I had in my basement.
“They say it was a scary mask that started the stampede,” I said.
Clark’s eyes flashed. His expression turned serious.
“Do you know what the mask looked like?” I asked.
He shrugged. “Beats me.”
He’s lying, I decided.
And then the words just blurted out of my mouth. I don’t know why. But I started to tell him the story of what happened to me last Halloween.
“I … I asked you about the mask because I had a bad time last Halloween with an evil mask,” I started.
Again his eyes locked on mine. I definitely had his attention.
“Last year,” I continued, “when I put the mask on, it stuck to my skin. I couldn’t pull it off. And it started to change me. I suddenly had evil thoughts. Horrible, evil thoughts. The mask — it was taking over my brain and —”
Clark laughed. He brushed a hand back through his short brown hair. “An evil mask?” he said. “You’re joking — right?”
I shook my head. “No, Clark, I’m totally serious. I —”
He laughed again. “Give me a break,” he said. “A mask that turns you evil?”
I crossed my arms in front of me. “You said you know the story of the stable boy,” I said. “Then you know that he wore an evil mask that frightened the horses. And now they say the boy haunts this stable. He —”
Clark gaped at me. “Carly Beth — you believe in ghosts?” he cried. “No way. You believe in ghosts and evil masks?” He laughed. “Is your friend Sabrina as weird as you are?”
I stared back at him. I could tell he was lying. He was only pretending not to believe me. It was obvious. He was putting on a big show. Like he didn’t believe in ghosts or haunted masks.
I felt another chill. He was kind of cute. But there was something strange about him. Something he was hiding.
Why was he hanging out here in this smelly, bug-infested stable? And why was he dressed like a stable boy in that old flannel shirt?
“I … have to go,” I said. “It’s late. I don’t want to miss the next bus.”
He grinned. “Hope the bus isn’t haunted!” His dark eyes flashed.
I rolled my eyes. “Very funny,” I said. “Well … nice meeting you, Clark. See you around … I guess.”
“See you.” He gave me a quick two-fingered salute.
I spun away and jogged out of the stable. The air felt so cool and fresh as soon as I got out of the smelly stable. I trotted across the field to the road.
And then, over the thuds of my sneakers on the hard ground, I heard shrill sounds. Horses whinnying behind me.
Horse cries, so sad. Calling me. Calling me back to that frightening stable.
I ran to the road. The horse cries rang in my ears. Breathing hard, I grabbed the bus stop pole and held it tightly, struggling to catch my breath.
An SUV rolled by with loud country music blaring out the window. The sun had dropped low behind the trees. Strange shadows rolled across the field, like living creatures.
The road was dark. No sign of the bus. It ran every half hour or so. But I wanted it to be there now.
I wanted to get away. Away from that stable with the strange boy inside. The boy with the deep, dark eyes, who laughed at me when I said I heard horses. Who laughed when I said the stable was haunted.
What was the truth about Clark?
I shuddered as the sky grew even darker. I didn’t want to think about Clark or ghosts or masks. I wanted to get AWAY from here!
“The bus is never coming,” I muttered.
I should have gone home with Sabrina, I told myself. I never should have wandered over to that stable.
I grabbed my cell phone. I decided to see if Mom or Dad could come pick me up. I started to punch in our number — and stopped.
My phone was dead. No power.
With a loud sigh, I pushed the phone back into my jeans pocket.
A bird cackled loudly in a tree across the road. “Are you laughing at me?” I called to it.
I decided to start walking. I’d walk along the road toward home. When the bus came, I’d wave at it to stop.
Or I could walk the whole way. It was only a mile or two.
It will feel good to walk, I told myself. It will give me a chance to think. A chance to figure things out in my mind.
I had a lot to think about. As I trudged along the gravel on the side of the road, my mind was spinning.
Did I really hear ghost horses?
Was it my Haunted Mask that caused the stampede that killed them all?
I knew Sabrina was right. I had to get that mask out of my basement. But where could I take it? Where could I hide it where no one would ever find it?
The walk took longer than I’d thought. I checked my watch. Nearly seven o’clock. Dinner was at six-thirty. Mom and Dad would be frantic by now.
They were probably calling my dead cell and calling Mrs. Lange. When they found out I walked home, they would go ballistic!
The air grew cooler. I zipped my jacket to the top. My backpack suddenly felt as if it weighed a thousand pounds.
The farm fields gave way to rows of sma
ll houses. I knew I was almost there. I wiped sweat off my forehead with the back of my hand and kept walking.
“Look out!” a voice cried.
Two boys on bikes roared past me, one on each side. They laughed and slapped a high five, happy that they scared me.
Most of the houses were brightly lit. Inside, I could see people sitting at dinner tables. In one front window, a huge white cat stared at me as I walked past.
If only I could call Mom and Dad and let them know I was okay. I pulled my phone out again and shook it. No. No power.
I reached Melrose Street and turned the corner onto Deckland. I was ten or fifteen minutes from home.
A large gray dog jumped up in its driveway and began barking at me ferociously. My heart skipped a beat. Then I saw the dog was on a chain.
I turned another corner and found myself on a block of small stores. I saw a laundry and a shoe repair store, both closed for the night. I passed the post office and a small pizza takeout restaurant.
I started to cross the street — then stopped in the middle.
I stared at the store on the next corner. Stared into the bright orange light in its window.
Faces stared back at me. Ugly, twisted faces.
Masks.
Three rows of Halloween masks gazed out of the store window. I saw a gorilla mask, several monster masks with bulging eyes and blood-dripping fangs, a furry werewolf mask, a creature with its skull poking out the top of its head….
Frozen in the middle of the street, I stared from mask to mask. Then my eyes went to the glass door in the front.
A chill shook my body.
I recognized the store. I knew it so well. The store appeared in so many of my nightmares.
The mask store.
The store where I’d bought the Haunted Mask!
How could it be here? How could it be back?
The store had vanished. Disappeared without a trace, leaving an empty lot behind.
So how could I be staring at it now?
A loud blast from a car horn shocked me out of my daze. I shielded my eyes from the headlights and hurried across the street.
I stepped into the orange glow of the store window. The ugly masks gazed out at me.
I ran to the front door and grabbed the handle. The store was real. It wasn’t a dream.
I pressed my face to the glass and peered inside. I could see the narrow aisle with long shelves of masks on both sides. Just as I remembered it.
And behind the counter — the same strange man. The man who’d sold me the Haunted Mask.
He stood there, reading a book. He raised his face to the light, and I could see him clearly.
He had the same slicked-down black hair parted in the middle. The same pencil-thin black mustache. He wore a flowing black cape over a black suit.
I stood for a long while with my hand on the door handle, watching him. Remembering his little black eyes. The way he seemed to see into my thoughts …
I took a deep breath and gave the door a hard tug. It swung open so fast, I nearly banged into it. Stumbling, I stepped into the store.
He didn’t look up. He waited for me to step up to the counter. Then he raised his head slowly and squinted at me with those strange little eyes.
“Do you remember me?” I asked in a high, shrill voice.
He nodded. “Of course I remember you, Carly Beth.”
That made my pulse race. I didn’t like him saying my name.
I gripped the counter with both hands to stop myself from shaking. “You must take back the mask! You MUST!” I shouted.
An unpleasant smile spread under his thin mustache. “Take it back? How?” he asked. He closed his book and set it down on the counter.
It was an old, tattered book. I saw the title on the cover: New Faces.
“It’s in my basement,” I said. “I’ll bring it to you. Tonight.”
The smile faded. “You can’t return it,” he said. Behind him, a shelf of human skulls grinned at me.
“Why NOT?” I screamed.
He brushed back his cape. “You think you defeated it the first time,” he said softly. “But I know the truth.”
My mouth dropped open. “Huh? The truth?”
He drew closer, so close I could smell his sour breath. “The mask doesn’t accept defeat,” he whispered.
“That’s c-crazy!” I stammered.
“It will be back, Carly Beth,” he said. “It will come after you this Halloween. And there’s nothing that I can do about it.”
“That’s CRAZY!” I cried. “I have it locked up. I —”
He brought his face up to mine. “No one has ever defeated the mask. No one whose skin became the mask’s skin, whose eyes became the mask’s eyes, has lived to tell about it. The mask destroyed them. All of them. All of them, except you. You are alive … for now!”
He took a step back and let out a long sigh. “Do you think you are the only victim of the mask? Someone else is out there, Carly Beth. Someone else owned the mask and will do anything to get it back. Anything. Someone you know.”
“Huh?” My mouth dropped open. “You … you’re confusing me,” I said. “Just tell me what I can do. Please!”
“I cannot tell you because I do not know. But I do know this,” he said. “The mask will not quit until it controls you. Until it fills you once again with its evil.”
“No! Please —” I begged. “Please!”
He shrugged. His cape rustled behind him. “I tried to warn you, Carly Beth. I tried to stop you. But you wouldn’t listen. You bought the mask and ran off with it. And now you must pay a most painful price.”
“No! Listen to me!” I cried. “I’ll bring it back right now. You can lock it away in your store.”
He shook his head. “Sorry.”
He slid quickly from behind the counter. He took my arm. His fingers pinched my skin. He led me out the door.
“No. Please! Wait! Help me!” I cried.
I was standing outside. I heard a lock click. The store went dark.
I let out a sharp cry. “No! You’ve got to help me!” I screamed.
I grabbed the door. It wouldn’t budge. I started to pound it with both fists.
“I don’t want the mask! Take it back!” I screamed. “Take it back! Take it back! Take it back!”
I ran the rest of the way home. The stores … the houses … block after block of trees and yards … just a blur of gray and black.
I was panting hard when I finally pulled myself up my driveway. I crept in through the back door. The house felt so warm. I could smell roast chicken.
Mom and Dad were in the den. I tossed my coat and backpack down on the floor in the front hall. “Sorry I’m late,” I called. I struggled to catch my breath.
“Where were you? You missed dinner.” Mom stepped into the hall, hands on her hips. “We called Mrs. Lange. She said you left on time.”
“Are you angry or worried?” I asked.
“Both.”
“It’s no big deal,” I said. “I’m fine. Really. I can explain, okay? Just give me one minute.”
I didn’t wait for her answer. I turned and grabbed the door to the basement stairs.
I could hear Mom and Dad shouting after me. But I hurtled down to the basement, taking the stairs two at a time.
I had to make sure the mask was locked tightly in its box. No way I could let it escape on Halloween. The man in the mask store was wrong. He had to be wrong!
I grabbed the string and pulled on the ceiling bulb in the storage room. I began shoving cartons out of the way. My whole body was shaking as I uncovered the metal box.
I was gasping for breath. My throat ached and my hands trembled. Somehow, I managed to unlock the box.
I pulled open the lid — and SCREAMED.
“What IS this? What IS this?” I cried.
I tugged out the white and yellow feathers. My duck costume! The awful duck costume my mom made for me. Stuffed into the box.
I pul
led it out and tossed it to the floor. And stared … stared into the empty box.
The Haunted Mask was GONE!
I stared into the empty box, my mind spinning. I bent and picked up the feathery duck costume. I shook it hard. Was the mask hiding inside?
No.
I slumped down onto a carton to think. A million questions flashed through my mind. All of them were terrifying.
How did this happen? Did the mask escape? Did the man in the mask store tell the truth?
He said someone else wanted it. Did someone come into my house and steal it?
How did they know where it was hidden?
Whoa. Hold on a minute.
I suddenly remembered something. Noah had been down in the basement. Did he see me with the mask? Was he down here that night I left the box uncovered?
I suddenly had a heavy feeling in the pit of my stomach. I felt sick.
Switching the mask for the duck costume was the kind of joke Noah liked to pull. If he took the mask up to his room, he had to try it on. No way he could resist.
Was he stuck inside the mask right now, controlled by its evil?
My heart was pounding like crazy. I forced myself to my feet. And ran up the stairs.
Mom called to me from the kitchen. “Carly Beth, do you want your dinner now? Are you okay?”
“In a minute!” I shouted. I flew up the stairs. I ran down the hall to Noah’s room. “Noah?” I called. “Noah? Are you all right?”
I threw open his door — and gasped.
Slowly, Noah turned around. And his eyes stared out at me through his craggy green mask.
I staggered back against the wall.
Inside the mask, Noah blinked at me. “What’s your problem, weirdo? I’m trying on my new Hulk mask. You’ve never seen the Incredible Hulk before?”
I stared at the bumpy green mask. And burst out laughing. “You look awesome, Noah,” I said. “I just wasn’t expecting …”
“I wanted to be Wolverine,” he said. His voice was muffled behind the rubber mask. “But they only had the Hulk.”
“Well, I think it’s an improvement,” I said. “You should keep it on.”
He kicked me in the leg.