One Night in Doom House Read online

  Of course, Colin is a big liar. But everyone in town has a story about the Grover Mansion. Everyone thinks it's haunted.

  The house has been abandoned for years. The whole block is deserted. Just overgrown lawns and shabby empty houses with shutters banging and the wind whistling through holes in the roofs.

  You can’t blame people for moving away. Who wants to live next to a haunted house?

  We stepped onto the front stoop. The welcome mat was half covered in snow. I kicked the snow away to read the mat. It didn’t say WELCOME. It said GOOD-BYE.

  “Check out the mailbox,” Aaron said.

  I turned and read the name on the rusted mailbox: DOOM HOUSE.

  I shivered. Not from fright. From the snow and freezing wind. “Aaron, let's go,” I said. “We’re not going to see any real ghosts here. And we’re going to get in major trouble staying overnight. If our parents find out … ” I shivered again.

  “They’re not going to find out,” Aaron said. “Your parents think you’re at my house. And my parents think I’m at your house.”

  “But—but—” I sputtered.

  “And what if we really see some ghosts?” he said. He raised his camcorder. “What if we see ghosts and we get them on tape? Then we’ll be famous. We’ll be on TV. We’ll be celebrities. And Ms. McDonald will have to let us do our social studies project on ghosts.”

  “But she said we couldn’t do our project on ghosts, remember?” I said. “Ms. McDonald said ghosts aren’t social studies. She assigned us a project—remember? The history of Paraguay?”

  Aaron made a face. “Paraguay? What's a Paraguay?”

  “About three pounds,” I said.

  Aaron didn’t laugh at my joke. “Max, maybe Ms. McDonald will change her mind. If we find real ghosts and get them on the camcorder, she’ll have to change her mind. And maybe she won’t flunk me and make me do fifth grade all over again.”

  You see, Aaron was in major trouble. He never did any homework. He just didn’t believe in it.

  But Ms. McDonald finally put her foot down. She said if Aaron didn’t get an A on this project, he’d have to repeat fifth grade. And maybe third and fourth grade too!

  “Look, Aaron, there aren’t going to be any ghosts in here and you know it,” I argued. “It's just an old house that's been empty for a lot of years. Someone made up a ghost story about it, and someone else made up another one. And now everyone believes them. But they’re just made-up stories.”

  I shivered again and pulled my parka tighter. I stamped my boots on the GOOD-BYE mat. My feet were both frozen numb.

  Aaron grabbed the rusted doorknob. “Come on. If we don’t see anything by dawn, we can go. And we’ll do a project on the history of ghosts in Paraguay.”

  “Ha, ha,” I said. My lips were frozen too. I could barely open my mouth to laugh.

  Aaron turned the doorknob—and it came off in his hand. “Hey!” he cried out in surprise.

  The door creaked open. Aaron pushed it open all the way. We stared into the foggy gray light of the front hallway. A whiff of cold air washed over me. Cold, sour air.

  I shuddered.

  “Let's go in,” Aaron whispered. He stepped inside and I followed him.

  We took two or three steps into the dark hallway—and the front door slammed behind us.

  5

  I JUMPED A MILE into the air. “Hey—who did that?” I cried.

  Aaron's eyes bulged behind his swim goggles. “M-maybe it was just the wind,” he stammered.

  I pulled a flashlight from my backpack and shone it around. We stepped into the living room. Our boots clanked noisily on the bare wooden floor. The furniture was all covered with yellowed bedsheets.

  Aaron cupped his hands around his mouth. “Anyone home?” he shouted. His words echoed in the big empty room. “Hello? Any ghosts here?”

  Silence.

  “Duh. Good try,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Ghosts always come out when you call them.”

  Aaron shrugged. “Whatever.” He raised the camcorder and aimed it at himself.

  He pushed the Record button. “Saturday night. Twenty-one hundred hours. We have reached our destination and are ready to explore.”

  He pushed the button again. Then he turned to me. “Just setting the scene. You know.”

  I squinted at him. “It's nine o’clock. Why did you say twenty-one hundred hours?”

  “I was trying to impress the ghosts,” he replied.

  I told you he's weird.

  We started to explore the enormous living room. The sheets draped over the couches and chairs were thick with dust. I raised my light and saw a blanket of cobwebs hanging from the ceiling and clinging to one wall. Cobwebs covered the glass chandelier over the center of the room.

  “No one has been in here for ages,” I whispered.

  A sound above our heads made us both gasp. Loud creaking.

  “Hello? Is someone upstairs?” Aaron shouted. He raised his camcorder and aimed it toward the curving stairway at the back wall.

  Silence now.

  We moved into the next room, a dining room. A long table covered in a white tablecloth. At least, I thought it was a tablecloth—until I stepped closer. And saw that the table was actually covered with cobwebs.

  “Hey!” I cried out as I stepped in something sticky.

  “What's your problem? Did you find anything?” Aaron asked, hurrying over to me.

  I lowered my flashlight to the floor—and saw that I had stepped into a sticky puddle of green goo.

  “Ectoplasm!” Aaron declared. “Ghosts always leave ectoplasm behind.”

  “It's probably bubble gum,” I said.

  I mean, I had two real ghosts at home, and they didn’t leave green goo behind everywhere they went.

  Aaron bent down to study it. “Yes!” He pumped his fists in the air. “Definitely ectoplasm. This is proof. Quick, Max—put your boot back in the goo.”

  “Excuse me? You want me to—?”

  “Hurry. I’ve got to get this on tape.”

  With a sigh, I stuck my boot back in the green goo. Aaron lowered the camcorder and taped a close-up. “First sighting,” he said in a serious, deep voice. “First evidence that ghosts are here.”

  I unstuck myself and we moved to the next room—a large den with a broad stone fireplace against one wall. “We’re getting close. I know it!” Aaron said.

  “Aaron, don’t get your hopes up,” I said. I glanced at the cobwebs that covered the window like a shade. “It's just us and a million spiders.”

  But then we heard the creaking overhead again. The ceiling groaned. Wind made the windowpanes rattle.

  And from somewhere far away, I thought I heard laughter.

  6

  SOFT AT FIRST, THEN louder. Shrill laughter, like someone hitting the highest notes on a piano.

  A chill ran down my back. I suddenly felt scared.

  I turned to Aaron. “Did you hear that too?”

  He stood frozen in front of the fireplace. “Where did it c-come from?” he stammered.

  “I … don’t know,” I whispered.

  We both stood perfectly still and listened. But the laughter had stopped.

  Wind whistled through the windowpanes. Outside, a tree branch tapped hard against the window, as if trying to break in.

  “Let's keep moving,” Aaron said. He kept the camcorder raised as we walked quickly down a curving hall and into the next room.

  The room seemed to stretch for miles. It was long and bare, except for a faded red carpet and a few scattered wooden chairs. I raised my light to the ceiling high above our heads. Six huge crystal chandeliers formed a line above our heads.

  “Wow. This must have been a ballroom or something,” I said. “You know. Like in a castle.”

  “Maybe the ghosts still come here and dance,” Aaron said.

  “Maybe,” I said, shining my light around the floor.

  I nearly dropped the flashlight when I heard the laughter again. Mu
ffled this time, as if coming from behind a closet door.

  Cold laughter. Shrill and sharp, like glass breaking.

  Aaron and I spun around, expecting to see someone. No. No one.

  “Who is it?” Aaron called out. “Who's there?”

  Another burst of ugly laughter, farther away this time.

  The laughter sent chill after chill down my back. If there were ghosts in this house, they definitely weren’t friendly!

  “It's coming from over there,” Aaron said. He pointed to a doorway at the other end of the ballroom. “Let's go.”

  We made our way back into the long, curving hallway. Then we both stopped and looked around. “Which way did we come into the house?” I asked. “I’m all turned around.”

  “Me too,” Aaron said. “This place is too big.”

  A blast of cold wind made me gasp. The air felt wet and heavy on my cheeks. Where did it come from?

  Another swirling gust made Aaron and me turn our backs to it. “Did someone leave a door open?” Aaron asked.

  “It … isn’t this windy outside,” I said. “It's like a wind tunnel in here.”

  “The ghosts …, ” Aaron said. “They don’t want us to go that way. They’re trying to keep us out.”

  The wind howled through the hallway, pushing us back. Aaron and I ducked into a small room. It was narrow and low-ceilinged, and it had no windows.

  I shone my light around the room. My trembling hand made the light beam dance over the back wall.

  The circle of light stopped on oozing green goo dripping down the wall. The floor beneath it was puddled with goo.

  I swallowed, my mouth suddenly dry.

  I didn’t want to come here because I’d thought it was a waste of time. But now I wasn’t so sure.

  The high-pitched laughter … the creaking footsteps over our heads … the strange blasts of cold, wet wind … the green globs of sticky goo. Were there really ghosts here?

  Aaron raised the camcorder and taped the oozing green stuff. “Ectoplasm caught on tape for the first time in recorded history,” he said in a deep voice into the microphone. “Evidence that the ghosts we seek are close by. They may even be watching us now.”

  He turned the camcorder on me. “Max, are you scared?”

  “Maybe a little,” I said. “But I still don’t think there are ghosts in this old house.”

  I didn’t want to admit on the video how frightened I was.

  I have real ghosts at home, I thought. But they’re not scary.

  I wanted to get out of there. Okay, I’m not the bravest person in the world. But I couldn’t leave Aaron alone.

  Teeth chattering, I took a deep breath and followed Aaron back into the hall. I tensed my body for the wind blasts. But the air was still now.

  We turned and followed another hallway, which turned into another hallway and another.

  “I’m kinda lost,” Aaron said.

  “Me too,” I replied. “Maybe that's the kitchen.” I pointed ahead.

  We stepped into a square, low-ceilinged room. Gray light washed in from a dust-covered window. Big cartons were stacked along one wall.

  “Just a big closet,” Aaron murmured. He pulled up the lid of a carton and peered inside. “Yuck. Moldy old books. They’re totally rotting.”

  I stepped up to a tall grandfather clock against one wall. As I raised the flashlight to its face, the slender black hands started to move. They both spun wildly, faster and faster.

  “Oh!” I let out a startled cry and staggered back.

  Aaron looked up from the carton of books. “What's wrong?”

  “That clock—” I pointed. “Uh … ” Now the hands were perfectly still. “Nothing,” I muttered. “Forget it. Guess I’m just a little creeped out.”

  I turned away from the clock. My flashlight stopped on a long box near the window. Whoa. Wait. Not a box.

  “Aaron—” I whispered. “Look. Is that a coffin?”

  He spun around, eyes wide.

  Yes. A long, black coffin, polished and shiny. We stepped over to it.

  “Do you think there's someone in it?” Aaron asked. “Who would keep a coffin in a storage closet?”

  “A vampire,” I said.

  “We don’t want a vampire,” Aaron said. “We’re doing ghosts.”

  I stared at the lid. The wood was smooth and shiny, reflecting the gray light from the window.

  “Open it,” Aaron said. “Go ahead.”

  “Whoa. No way,” I told him. “ You open it.”

  “I’m holding the camcorder,” he replied. “I have to tape what happens. Go ahead. Open the lid.”

  I jammed my hands into my parka pockets. “I don’t think so.”

  Aaron sighed. “Come on, Max. You don’t want to do the history of Paraguay, do you? Open the lid. We’re going to get an A here. I just know it.”

  I stared at the brass handles on the lid. My legs were trembling. My heart pounded in my chest. Paraguay was starting to sound pretty good.

  “Go ahead. I’m taping,” Aaron said.

  I pulled my hands from the parka. I moved closer to the coffin. I reached for the handles.

  Slowly, slowly, I began to pull up the coffin lid. I lifted it an inch … two inches …

  And the lid shot open!

  Without warning, a grinning skeleton leaped up, bones clattering. Before I could move, it stretched out its arms—and made a grab for me.

  I heard Aaron's scream of horror behind me.

  And then my scream rose over his. My trembling legs collapsed.

  And I fell facedown into the coffin!

  7

  I LET OUT ANOTHER horrified cry. Somehow I pushed myself up to my knees. Then I scrambled out of the coffin. My heart pounded so hard, my chest hurt. I staggered back, gasping for breath.

  Grinning at me, the skeleton rattled and shook. I saw the deep empty sockets where its eyes had been.

  And then I saw the metal rod holding the skeleton up. And the coiled springs that had made it stand.

  “It … it's a total fake,” I said.

  The skeleton stood still now, arms at its sides, head slumped at an angle.

  “Yeah. It's a jack-in-the-box thing,” Aaron said. “Like in a carnival fun house. I knew it.”

  I spun around. “Oh, right. You knew it? If you knew it, why did you scream?”

  He patted his camcorder. “For the tape. You know. To make it more dramatic. I only screamed for the tape.”

  I still hadn’t caught my breath. “You got it all on tape? Me screaming and falling into the coffin and everything?”

  He laughed. “Yeah. I got it.”

  “Maybe we’ll have to edit that part out,” I said.

  “Yeah, maybe,” Aaron said. “I mean, you’re the class brain, right? Everyone calls you Brainimon because you’re so smart. No one wants to see the smartest kid in the class shaking like a leaf and falling face-first into a coffin—do they?”

  He laughed again. He was enjoying this too much!

  I was thinking hard. If the skeleton was fake, the rest of the eerie sounds must be fake too.

  “I’m outta here,” I said. “This is a big waste of time.”

  I started toward the door. Aaron chased me and grabbed me by the shoulder. “What's the chief export of Paraguay?” he asked. “What's the national flower? How do their elections work?”

  “Okay, okay. I’m staying,” I said.

  We stepped into the hall and found ourselves at a steep stairway that led upstairs. “I know there are ghosts in this house,” Aaron said. “They’re probably hiding in the bedrooms up here.”

  The stairs creaked and groaned under our boots. Part of the railing had broken away. At the top, we faced a long, narrow hall with closed doors on both sides.

  The glass had broken away in the window at the end of the hall. Flimsy white curtains blew in the breeze, waving to us like ghostly figures.

  I felt a chill. I had a heavy feeling in the pit of my stomach. Somethin
g was warning me that there was real danger nearby.

  Aaron and I stepped into the first bedroom. The room was big and cluttered with furniture—a canopy bed, a long dresser, armchairs, and a couch. Everything was covered with dust. The room smelled like stale cigarette smoke.

  Heavy drapes covered the windows. I moved my light along the wall—and stopped at a narrow door. I pulled open the door and peered into another hall. A secret hallway!

  “Hey, Aaron, check this out.” I kept the light down on the floor ahead of us as we crept into this new hallway. There were no lights or windows. It was like a low, narrow tunnel.

  I held back. It reminded me of the creepy tunnel I’d found behind my bedroom wall. The tunnel that led from the living … to the world of ghosts.

  I’d gone into that terrifying tunnel once. I never wanted to go in there again.

  I shivered. This is a different tunnel, I told myself. It's not even a tunnel. It's just a hallway in an empty old house.

  “Let's go,” I said.

  Our footsteps echoed loudly as we hurried through it, keeping close together. The hall ended at a small alcove with three doors side by side.

  “This is excellent!” Aaron said. He was videoing the whole thing. “Hidden rooms at the end of a hidden hallway. Awesome.”

  The first door seemed to be locked from the inside. Aaron couldn’t get the door to budge, so he tried the middle door, and it opened easily.

  We stepped into a huge room cluttered with cartons, stacks of old children's books, a beat-up wooden baby crib, an old-fashioned bike, and piles of old clothes. “Check it out!” Aaron exclaimed. He bent to search through a stack of old comic books.

  A long time ago, this must have been a children's room. I saw a pile of board games against the wall. The boxes were faded and torn. I started to pick up the game on top—Parcheesi.

  But a sound behind me made me drop it and spin around. “Aaron, did you hear that? Like a howling sound?”

  I listened hard and heard it again. A long, low howl, like a dog in pain. And then I heard a sharp tapping on the door.

  Had we closed the door? I thought we’d left it open.