Series 2000- Headless Halloween Read online

  Series 2000- Headless Halloween

  R. L. Stine

  Apple (1998)

  * * *

  Rating: ★★☆☆☆

  Tags: Fiction, Juvenile Fiction, Horror, Horror Tales, Horror Ghost Stories, Horror Stories, Holidays Celebrations, Halloween, Parties

  Fictionttt Juvenile Fictionttt Horrorttt Horror Talesttt Horror Ghost Storiesttt Horror Storiesttt Holidays Celebrationsttt Halloweenttt Partiesttt

  Frozen in silence, I squinted into the eerie, pale light. Hands popped up from beneath the ground. They shook off dirt and stretched. A dozen hands poked up, shimmering yellow and green in the moonlight.And then heads. Human heads. Hair caked with dirt. Skin loose, hanging from their skulls. They stared at me with pleading eyes, faces twisted, mouths hanging open in pain."Take me with you", one of them called in a dry whisper.

  Headless Halloween

  R. L. STINE

  [blank page]

  1

  AN APPLE

  PAPERBACK

  SCHOLASTIC INC. New York Toronto London Auckland Sydney

  A PARACHUTE PRESS BOOK

  No part of this publication may be reproduced in whole or in part, or

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  permission, write to Scholastic Inc., Attention: Permissions Department,

  555 Broadway, New York, NY 10012.

  ISBN 0-590-76781X

  Copyright S1998 by Parachute Press, Inc.

  All rights reserved. Published by Scholastic Inc.

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  trademarks of Scholastic Inc.

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  12 11 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 189/9 0 1 2 3/0

  Printed in the U.S.A.40

  First Scholastic printing, October 1998

  1

  “AAAAAIIIIII!”

  That’s the sound of terror. A loud, bloodcurdling scream.

  I love it.

  I know, I know. It’s kind of sick. But I can’t help it …

  My name is Brandon Plush. And my motto is “Make ‘Em Scream.”

  I love scaring people. I love hearing kids gasp in surprise - and then

  shriek their heads off.

  It’s so funny. True panic - it always makes me laugh.

  Dad says I have a cruel streak. He says I get it from him. The two of us

  stay up late watching horror movies on TV. We always laugh when people

  get sliced and diced or eaten by monsters.

  2 Mom says I have to be nicer to people. Whenever she says that, Dad and

  I share a secret smile. We know that scary is fun.

  My sister, Maya, is seven, and she is the perfect victim. Maya screams

  if you cross your eyes at her. She’s scared of bugs, worms, dogs, cats,

  bats, and even some kinds of birds.

  She’s a great kid, and she’s terrified of me. I can make her scream with

  one hand tied behind my back.

  Last night, I hid in her closet wearing one of the ugliest masks from my

  scary mask collection.

  The man who sold it to me told me it was a one-of-a-kind mask.

  “Nobody else has anything like it,” he said.

  When Maya opened the closet door, I growled like a wild animal and came

  leaping out at her in my mask.

  The poor kid screamed, and spit up her entire dinner.

  Ha ha. Did I laugh? I couldn’t stop!

  I told you, she’s the perfect victim.

  “Brandon - why did you do that?” Mom demanded. She wasn’t happy. She had

  to clean up the mess.

  “Oops!” I replied. “Just joking.”

  That’s my other motto: “Oops - just joking.”

  Did I scare ten years off your life? Did I scare you out of your skin?

  Oops - just joking!

  4 My cousin Vinnie lives down the block. He’s nearly as bad as Maya.

  Vinnie is eleven, just a year younger than me. But he’s a scrawny little

  nerd.

  If he was big enough to have a shadow, he’d be terrified of it!

  I can scare Vinnie in my sleep.

  On Saturday, I found a fat purple worm in the backyard. When Vinnie came

  over, I slipped the worm down the back of his sweater. I told him it was

  a poisonous snake.

  Did he scream?

  Ha ha! He set a world record.

  Then Vinnie froze as the worm slid down his back. His eyes practically

  popped out of his head, and his teeth began to chatter.

  Finally, I reached down his back, pulled out the worm, and held it up to

  Vinnie’s face. “Oops - just joking!” I told him.

  Then I laughed for a week.

  Vinnie just stood there shaking. He cracks me up. He really does.

  Vinnie and Maya and a lot of other kids in my neighborhood are in major

  trouble. That’s because it’s nearly Halloween - my favorite time of the

  year.

  I have big plans for Halloween.

  I plan to go headless this year.

  [3]

  2

  Jennifer and Ray are two little kids who live across the street from

  Vinnie. Sometimes when their parents can’t find anyone else, they ask me

  to baby-sit.

  Guess why I love to baby-sit for the two brats.

  That’s right.

  They’re total ‘fraidy cats.

  I can make them scream with my eyes shut.

  I love to tell them scary stories. I tell them stories that make their

  flesh creep. That curdle their blood. That make their hair stand on end.

  They always scream till they choke. And if my story is really good,

  sometimes I can make them cry.

  Ha ha!

  They’re pitiful. You’ve got to love it!

  5 A few nights ago, I was down the block baby-sitting for them. I led

  the two little angels down to the rec room in the basement.

  “I’m going to tell you a true story,” I said.

  “Please don’t tell a scary story!” Jennifer begged.

  “Please don’t scare us tonight,” Ray whined.

  You should have seen how sweet they looked, begging me to go easy on them.

  But I turned the lights real low, and I told them the scariest ghost

  story I could think of. I used my creepy, whispery voice. And I spoke

  real softly, so they had to lean in close to hear. “Your parents don’t

  want you to know this,” I started. “But it’s a true story.”

  Their eyes grew wider. I could see they were scared already!

  “Another family used to live in your house,” I told them. “They had a

  boy and a girl about your age. But the boy and the girl didn’t last

  long. Something horrible happened to them. Right in this basement. Right

  in this room.”

  “Please stop,” Ray begged.

  Jennifer had her hands over her ears. But I knew she could still hear me.

  “I don’t like this story,” Ray whined.

  “I don’t like it, either,” his sister agreed.

  “It gets better,” I told them.

  I took a deep breath and started again in a

  6 whisper “Did you know your house is haunted?” I asked.

  Their
mouths dropped open.

  “Well, the boy and girl didn’t know. They didn’t know that a very cruel

  ghost lived down in this basement. The ghost stayed quiet most of the

  time. But it had one bad habit.”

  “Please stop,” Jennifer begged in a trembling voice.

  “Yeah. Let’s go upstairs,” Ray pleaded.

  “Every year, just before Halloween, the ghost liked to murder anyone who

  came down to this room,” I continued. ” ‘The basement is mine,’ the

  ghost declared. ‘If someone comes down here, I’ll make them suffer. I’ll

  turn them into ghosts too.’ “

  “This isn’t true - is it?” Jennifer asked in a tiny voice.

  “It’s just a story - right?” her wimpy little brother added.

  “Of course it’s true,” I answered. “It happened right over there.” I

  pointed.

  “What happened?” Jennifer asked.

  “The boy and girl didn’t know about the ghost. They came down to the

  basement to play. They were down on the floor, right over there.” I

  pointed again.

  “Slowly … slowly … the ghost crept up behind the boy. Closer …

  Closer … “

  “Please!” Jennifer begged, covering her ears again.

  7 “Please - stop!” Copycat Ray covered his ears too.

  “Closer … ,” I whispered. “The ghost floated closer, it stretched out

  its cold, dead arms … curled and uncurled its bony, dead fingers. It

  reached out … reached out - AND PULLED OFF THE BOY’S HEAD!” I

  screamed, grabbing Ray by the throat.

  Both kids let out horrified shrieks.

  “Wh-what happened to the girl?” Jennifer stuttered.

  “She ran away,” I told them. “She was never seen again. That’s why their

  parents sold this house to your parents.”

  “But the boy - ?” Ray started.

  “The headless boy is still down here,” I whispered. I looked around, as

  if searching for him. “The headless boy haunts the basement now.

  Waiting. Waiting for fresh victims.”

  “That’s a lie!” Jennifer cried, jumping to her feet. “It’s just a story

  - right? There is no headless boy down here.”

  “Brandon, can we please go upstairs?” Ray begged. He grabbed his

  sister’s hand and held on to it for dear life.

  They were both so scared, they were shaking like Jell-O.

  Maybe I should have given them a break. Maybe I should have stopped there.

  But I had a brilliant idea.

  8 “Sit down,” I ordered them. “Don’t move. I’m going to prove that the

  headless boy lives here. I’ll be right back.”

  They begged me not to leave them there. But I ran upstairs and found my

  bag. I always bring a bag of special stuff with me on baby-sitting jobs.

  You know. Masks and props to help me scare the kiddies to death.

  I pulled out the ugly rubber mask I’d brought. It had stringy blue hair,

  gobs of green rubber slime pouring from empty eye sockets, and deep cuts

  and scabs all over its face.

  “Perfect,” I murmured to myself. I guess I was grinning from ear to ear.

  My plan was so awesome.

  I quickly made myself headless. It was easy. I pulled my shirt up and

  buttoned it over my head. My head was completely hidden.

  Then I bent a coat hanger and made it stand up from my shirt collar. And

  I slid the ugly mask over the hanger, onto my shoulders.

  I checked myself in the front hall mirror. Yes! The mask now looked like

  my head.

  Show time!

  I made my way down the stairs and staggered into the rec room. “I’m the

  headless boy!” I cried in a deep, scary voice. “I’m the headless one who

  haunts the basement.”

  Ray screamed. But Jennifer just sneered at me. “We know it’s you,

  Brandon,” she said.

  9 “I’m the headless one,” I repeated. “Go ahead. Pull off the mask.”

  They hesitated.

  “Pull off the mask,” I repeated.

  Finally, Jennifer stepped forward. She raised both hands to the sides of

  the mask and tugged it off.

  No head!

  No head underneath!

  They screamed so hard, the walls shook. And then they started to cry.

  Both of them. Wailing in terror.

  A great moment.

  But it lasted only a moment.

  Because I turned toward the stairs - and it was my turn to scream!

  10 I screamed because both parents stood at the bottom of the steps.

  They didn’t look too happy.

  I poked my head up from under the shirt.

  “What’s wrong?” the mom asked. She went running to the crying kids.

  “Kids? What’s wrong? What happened?”

  The dad glared at me angrily. “Why are they crying, Brandon?”

  I shrugged. “Beats me,” I replied. “Maybe something scared them.”

  When I got home, I called my best friend, Cal. Cal is big. He’s nearly

  six feet tall, and he weighs at least a ton. Maybe two tons.

  He can be pretty scary when he wants to be.

  11 And he likes to pick on kids who aren’t his size - which is why he’s

  my best friend.

  “Cal, I just did the coolest thing,” I told him. “I terrified these two

  kids by making myself headless.”

  “Cool,” Cal replied. But I could tell he didn’t know what I was talking

  about.

  It took me a while to explain the whole thing to him. Then he said

  “Cool” again.

  “Let’s go headless on Halloween,” I suggested. “If we both go headless,

  we can really make kids scream.”

  “Excellent,” Cal replied. “And maybe we can lock some kids in the

  haunted house. You know. The old house at the dead end.”

  Cal and I had a lot of fun locking kids in the haunted house. Then we’d

  wait outside and listen to them scream.

  “I can’t wait,” Cal said.

  I had to hang up the phone. Mom was calling me from downstairs.

  “Don’t have a cow! I’m coming!” I shouted.

  I could tell she was angry. Mom has long red hair, and she flings it

  from side to side when she’s angry. Both of her hands were balled into

  tight fists.

  “Brandon, Mrs. Sullivan just phoned me,” Mom said through gritted teeth.

  “Uh-oh.” I gulped. Mrs. Sullivan is Jennifer and Ray’s mom.

  12 “She forgot to pay me,” I said. “Is that why she called?”

  Mom swung her hair from side to side. “That’s not why she called,” she

  snapped.

  “Uh-oh.” I gulped again.

  “Mrs. Sullivan said you terrified her kids,” Mom continued. “She can’t

  get them to stop crying. She said she’ll never use you as a baby-sitter

  again.”

  “Never?”

  “Never.”

  I lowered my head. “Sorry,” I murmured.

  That usually works.

  Whenever I’m in major trouble, I lower my head and mutter “Sorry” as

  softly and sincerely as I can. And that’s usually the end of it.

  It didn’t seem to be working this time.

  “Sorry.” I muttered it again.

  “You’re sorry?” Mom cried. “But why do you do it, Brandon? Why are you

  always scaring kids?”

  “Because it’s fun?” I replied.

  In school the next morning, I was carrying a glass beaker to the sciencer />
  lab. I stopped in the hall to watch Cal stuff a fourth grader into a locker.

  The kid asked for it. He stepped on Cal’s new Air Jordans. It was an

  accident. But Cal had no choice. He jammed the poor kid into the locker,

  slammed the door, and locked it.

  I flashed the big guy a thumbs-up. Then I

  13 continued on my way, holding the beaker in both hands.

  I turned the corner - and saw cousin Vinnie heading my way.

  The little wimp had his head buried in a book. He was reading as he

  walked down the hall, and he didn’t see me.

  “Vinnie - look out!” I called. “I’m carrying this acid to the science lab.”

  He glanced up - just as I tripped.

  The liquid flew up from the beaker -

  - and splashed over Vinnie.

  Over his head, his face, and down the front of his shirt.

  And we both opened our mouths in screams of horror.

  14 “My face! My eyes!” Vinnie wailed. He dropped to his knees and folded

  his body into a quivering ball.

  “Oh, be quiet. It’s only water,” I told him.

  “Huh?” The little geek opened his eyes. “Only water?”

  “Oops - just joking!” I cried.

  He swallowed a couple of times. Then he brushed water from his face with

  both hands. “That wasn’t funny, Brandon,” he muttered angrily.

  “Yes, it was,” I replied.

  “No, it wasn’t funny!” boomed a deep voice from close behind me.

  I spun around, nearly dropping the empty glass beaker. “Mr. Benson?” I

  gasped.

  My least favorite teacher.

  15 He clapped a big hand on my shoulder. “Not funny, Brandon,” he

  repeated. He had a voice like a bass drum. Even when he whispered, the

  words came out loud.

  Mr. Benson is about ten feet tall and all muscle. Behind his back, kids

  call him “Mountain.”

  He has thick black hair that he pulls back into a ponytail. And bushy

  black eyebrows that dance up and down on his forehead like two

  caterpillars.

  He wears faded jeans and big, flannel shirts. And he has a tiny silver

  ring in one ear.

  A lot of kids think he’s cool. But I don’t like him much. He’s very

  strict in his science classes. And he always seems to have his eye on me.

  Like now.

  “Brandon, I saw the whole thing,” Mr. Benson boomed. “I saw your little

  joke from beginning to end.”