37 - The Headless Ghost Read online

  Stephanie swallowed hard. She didn’t reply.

  Hadn’t Andrew, the ghost boy, lost his head when he stumbled into the ghost’s living quarters? Were we standing in the same living quarters? The same room where Andrew found the ghost of the old sea captain?

  “Stephanie, I think we should get out of here,” I said softly. “Now.”

  I wanted to run. I wanted to fly down the stairs. Fly out of Hill House. Fly to my safe, warm home where there were no ghosts.

  No ghosts.

  We spun around and bolted for the door.

  Were the ghosts going to try to stop us?

  No. We made it back into the flickering orange light of the hallway. I pulled the door shut behind us.

  “The stairs. Where are the stairs?” Stephanie cried.

  We stood at the end of the hall. Facing a solid wall. The flowers on the wallpaper appeared to open and close, moving in the darting candlelight.

  I banged both fists against the wall. “How do we get out of here? How?”

  Stephanie had already pulled open a door across the hall. I followed her inside.

  “Oh, no!” Ghostly figures filled the room. It took me a few seconds to realize that I was staring at sheets pulled over furniture. Chairs and couches covered with sheets.

  “M-maybe this is the ghosts’ living room,” I stammered.

  Stephanie didn’t hear me. She had already burst through the open door against the far wall.

  I followed her into another room, cluttered with large crates. The crates were piled nearly to the ceiling.

  Another room. Then another.

  My heart began to pound. My throat ached.

  I felt so discouraged. Were we ever going to find our way to the stairs?

  Another door. Another dark, empty room.

  “Hey, Steph—” I whispered. “I think we’re going in circles.”

  Out into a long, twisting hallway. More candles. More flowers flickering darkly on the wallpaper.

  We ran side by side down the hall. Until we came to a door I hadn’t seen before. A door with a horseshoe nailed onto it.

  Maybe it meant that our luck was about to change. I sure hoped so!

  I grabbed the knob with a trembling hand. I pulled open the door.

  A staircase!

  “Yes!” I cried.

  “Finally!” Stephanie gasped.

  “This must be the servants’ staircase,” I guessed. “Maybe we’ve been in the servants’ quarters all this time.”

  The stairway was blanketed in darkness. The stairs looked steep.

  I took a step down, holding onto the wall. Then another step.

  Stephanie had one hand on my shoulder. When I stepped down, she stepped down, too.

  Another step. Another. The soft thuds of our sneakers echoed in the deep stairwell.

  We had taken about ten steps when I heard footsteps.

  Someone coming up the stairs.

  18

  Stephanie bumped me hard. I shot out both hands. Grabbed the wall to keep from falling down the stairs.

  No time to turn and run.

  The footsteps grew louder. And heavier. Light from a flashlight swept over Stephanie, then me.

  Squinting against the light, I saw a dark figure climbing up to us. “So there you are!” his voice boomed, echoing in the stairwell.

  A familiar voice.

  “Otto!” Stephanie and I both cried.

  He bounced up in front of us, moving the flashlight from her face to mine. “What are you two doing up here?” he demanded breathlessly.

  “Uh… we got lost,” I answered quickly.

  “We got separated from the tour,” Stephanie added. “We tried to find you.”

  “Yes. We tried,” I chimed in. “We were searching everywhere. But we couldn’t catch up to the group.”

  Otto lowered the flashlight. I could see his tiny dark eyes narrowing at us. I don’t think he believed our story.

  “I thought you two knew my tour by heart,” he said, rubbing his chin.

  “We do,” Stephanie insisted. “We just got turned around. We got lost. And we—”

  “But how did you get up here on the top floor?” Otto demanded.

  “Well…” I started. But I couldn’t think of a good answer. I turned back to Stephanie on the step above me.

  “We heard voices up here. We thought it was you,” she told Otto.

  It wasn’t exactly a lie. We did hear voices.

  Otto lowered the beam of light to the stairs. “Well, let’s get back downstairs. No one is allowed on this floor. It’s private.”

  “Sorry,” Stephanie and I murmured.

  “Watch your step, kids,” Otto warned. “These back stairs are very steep and rickety. I’ll lead you back to the group. Edna took over for me while I went to find you.”

  Edna was our second-favorite tour guide. She was old and white-haired. Very pale and frail-looking, especially in her black tour-guide outfit.

  But she was a great storyteller. With her quivering, old voice, she really made you believe every frightening story she told.

  Stephanie and I eagerly clumped down the stairs, following Otto. His flashlight swept in front of us as he led us out onto the second floor. We followed a long hallway. A hallway I knew very well.

  We stopped outside Joseph Craw’s study. Joseph was Andrew’s father. I peeked inside. A bright fire blazed in the fireplace.

  Edna stood beside the fireplace, telling the tragic story of Joseph Craw to the tour group.

  Stephanie and I had heard the sad story a hundred times. A year after Andrew had his head cut off, Joseph came home late one winter night. He took off his coat, then moved to the fireplace to warm himself.

  No one knows how Joseph was burned up. At least, that’s how Otto, Edna, and the other guides tell the story. Was he pushed into the fireplace? Did he fall in?

  One guess is as good as another.

  But when the maid came into the study the next morning, she found a horrifying sight.

  She found two charred, blackened hands gripping the mantel.

  Two hands, holding on tightly to the marble mantelpiece.

  All that was left of Joseph Craw.

  It’s a yucky story—isn’t it?

  It gives me a chill every time I hear it.

  As Otto led us to the study, Edna was just getting to the sickening part. The ending. “Do you want to rejoin the group?” Otto whispered.

  “It’s pretty late. I think we’d better get home,” Stephanie told him.

  I quickly agreed. “Thanks for rescuing us. We’ll catch the tour again soon.”

  “Good night,” Otto said, clicking off his flashlight. “You know the way out.” He hurried into the study.

  I started to leave. But stopped when I saw the boy again, the pale boy with the wavy blond hair. The boy in the black jeans and black turtleneck.

  He stood away from the tour group. Close to the door. And he was staring at Stephanie and me again. Staring hard at us, a cold expression on his face.

  “Come on,” I whispered, grabbing Stephanie’s arm. I tugged her away from the study door.

  We quickly found the front stairway. A few seconds later, we pushed open the front door and stepped outside. A cold wind greeted us as we started down the hill. Wisps of black cloud floated like snakes over the moon.

  “Well, that was fun!” Stephanie declared. She zipped her coat to her chin.

  “Fun?” I wasn’t so sure. “It was kind of scary.”

  Stephanie grinned at me. “But we weren’t afraid—right?”

  I shivered. “Right.”

  “I’d like to go back and explore some more,” she said. “You know. Maybe go back to that room with all the voices. Find some real ghosts.”

  “Yeah. Great,” I agreed. I didn’t feel like arguing with her. I felt pretty tired.

  She pulled a wool muffler from her coat pocket. As she swung it around her neck, one end caught in a low pine bush.

 
; “Hey—!” she cried out.

  I moved to the bush and started to pull the muffler free.

  And that’s when I heard the voice.

  Just a whisper. A whisper from the other side of the bush.

  But I heard it very clearly.

  “Did you find my head?”

  That’s what I heard.

  “Did you find my head? Did you find it for me?”

  19

  I uttered a startled gasp and stared into the bush. “Stephanie—did you hear that?” I choked out.

  No reply.

  “Stephanie? Steph?”

  I spun around. She was staring at me, her mouth open in surprise.

  “Did you hear that whisper?” I asked again.

  Then I realized she wasn’t staring at me. She was staring past me.

  I turned—and saw the strange, blond boy standing there beside the pine bush. “Hey—did you just whisper to us?” I demanded sharply.

  He narrowed his pale gray eyes at me. “Huh? Me?”

  “Yeah. You,” I snapped. “Were you trying to scare us?”

  He shook his head. “No way.”

  “You didn’t whisper from behind this bush?” I asked again.

  “I just got out here,” the boy insisted.

  We saw him in Joseph Craw’s study less than a minute ago, I told myself. How did he get out here so fast?

  “Why did you follow us?” Stephanie demanded, shoving her muffler around her coat collar.

  The boy shrugged.

  “Why were you staring at us?” I asked, stepping up close to Stephanie.

  The wind howled over the hilltop. The row of pine bushes shook in the gusty wind, as if shivering. Thin black clouds continued to snake their way over the pale moon.

  The boy wore no coat. Only the black turtleneck and black jeans. The wind fluttered his long, wavy hair.

  “We saw you staring at us,” Stephanie repeated. “How come?”

  He shrugged again. He kept his strange, gray eyes down at the ground. “I saw you sneak away,” he said. “I wondered if… if you saw anything interesting.”

  “We got lost,” I told him, glancing at Stephanie. “We didn’t see much.”

  “What’s your name?” Stephanie asked.

  “Seth,” he replied.

  We told him our names.

  “Do you live in Wheeler Falls?” Stephanie asked.

  He shook his head. He kept his eyes down at his shoes. “No. I’m just visiting.”

  Why wouldn’t he look us in the eye? Was he just shy?

  “Are you sure you didn’t whisper something from behind that bush?” I asked again.

  He shook his head. “No way. Maybe someone was playing a joke on you.”

  “Maybe,” I said. I stepped closer and kicked the bush. I don’t know what I expected.

  But nothing happened.

  “You and Stephanie went exploring on your own?” Seth asked.

  “Yeah. A little,” I confessed. “We’re kind of into ghosts.”

  When I said that, he jerked his head up. He raised his gray eyes and gazed hard at Stephanie, then at me.

  His face had been a blank. No life to it. No expression at all.

  But now I could see that he was really excited.

  “Do you want to see some real ghosts?” he asked us, staring hard. “Do you?”

  20

  Seth stared at us as if challenging us. “Do you two want to see some real ghosts?”

  “Yeah. Sure,” Stephanie replied, returning his stare.

  “What do you mean, Seth?” I demanded. “Have you ever seen a ghost?”

  He nodded. “Yeah. In there.” He pointed with his head, back to the big stone house.

  “Huh?” I cried. “You saw a real ghost in Hill House? When?”

  “Duane and I have taken the tour a hundred times,” Stephanie told him. “We’ve never seen any ghost in there.”

  He snickered. “Of course not. Do you think the ghosts come out when the tour groups are in there? They wait till the house closes. They wait until all the tourists go home.”

  “How do you know?” I asked.

  “I sneaked in,” Seth replied. “Late one night.”

  “You what?” I cried. “How?”

  “I found a door around back. It was unlocked. I guess everyone forgot about it,” Seth explained. “I sneaked in after the house was closed. And I—”

  He stopped suddenly. His eyes were on the house.

  I turned and saw the front door open. People stepped out, fastening their coats. The last tour had ended. People were heading for home.

  “Over here!” Seth whispered.

  We followed him behind the pine bushes and ducked down low. The people walked past us. They were laughing and talking about the house and all the ghost stories.

  When they were down the hill, we stood up again. Seth brushed his long hair off his forehead. But the wind blew it right back.

  “I sneaked in late at night, when the house was dark,” he repeated.

  “Your parents let you go out so late at night?” I asked.

  A strange smile crossed his lips. “They didn’t know,” he said softly. The smile faded. “Your parents let you two out?”

  Stephanie laughed. “Our parents don’t know, either.”

  “Good,” Seth replied.

  “And you really saw a ghost?” I asked.

  He nodded. Brushed his hair back again. “I crept past Manny, the night watchman. He was sound asleep. Snoring away. I made my way to the front of the house. I was standing at the bottom of the big staircase—when I heard a laugh.”

  I gulped. “A laugh?”

  “From the top of the stairs. I backed up against the wall. And I saw the ghost. A very old lady. In a long dress and a black bonnet. She wore a heavy black veil over the front of her face. But I could see her eyes through the veil. I could see them because they glowed bright red—like fire!”

  “Wow!” Stephanie cried. “What did she do?”

  Seth turned to the house. The front door had closed. The lantern over the door had been put out. The house stood in total darkness.

  “The old ghost came sliding down the banister,” he reported. “She tossed back her head—and screamed all the way down. And as she slid, her red eyes left a bright trail, like the tail of a comet.”

  “Weren’t you scared?” I asked Seth. “Didn’t you try to run away?”

  “There was no time,” he replied. “She came sliding down the banister, right toward me. Eyes blazing. Screaming like some kind of crazed animal. I was pressed against the wall. I couldn’t move. And when she reached the bottom, I thought she’d grab me. But she vanished. Disappeared into the darkness. And all that was left was the faint red glow, floating in the air. The glow of her eyes.”

  “Oh, wow!” Stephanie cried.

  “That’s awesome!” I agreed.

  “I want to sneak back in again,” Seth declared, watching the house. “I’ll bet there are more ghosts in there. I really want to see them.”

  “Me, too!” Stephanie cried eagerly.

  Seth smiled at her. “So you’ll come with me? Tomorrow night? I don’t want to go back alone. It’ll be so much more fun if you come, too.”

  The wind swirled sharply. The black clouds rolled over the moon, covering it, shutting out its light. The old house appeared to grow darker on its hilltop perch.

  “So you’ll come with me tomorrow night?” Seth asked again.

  “Yeah. Great!” Stephanie told him. “I can’t wait. How about you, Duane?” She turned to me. “You’ll come, too—won’t you, Duane? Won’t you?”

  21

  I said yes.

  I said I couldn’t wait to see a real ghost.

  I said I was shivering because of the cold wind. Not because I was scared.

  We made a plan to meet at midnight tomorrow at the back of Hill House. Then Seth hurried away. And Stephanie and I walked home.

  The street was dark and empty. Most of the
house lights were out. Far in the distance, a dog howled.

  Stephanie and I walked quickly, leaning into the wind. We usually didn’t stay out this late.

  Tomorrow night, we’d be even later.

  “I don’t trust that guy,” I told Stephanie as we reached her front yard. “He’s too weird.”

  I expected her to agree. But she said, “You’re just jealous, Duane.”

  “Huh? Me? Jealous?” I couldn’t believe she said that. “Why would I be jealous?”

  “Because Seth is so brave. Because he saw a ghost and we didn’t.”

  I shook my head. “Do you believe that crazy story about a ghost sliding down the banister? I think he made it up.”

  “Well,” Stephanie replied thoughtfully, “we’ll find out tomorrow night—won’t we!”

  Tomorrow night came too quickly.

  I had a math test in the afternoon. I don’t think I did too well on it. I couldn’t stop thinking about Seth, and Hill House, and ghosts.

  After dinner, Mom cornered me in the living room. She brushed back my hair and studied my face. “Why do you look so tired?” she asked. “You have dark circles around your eyes.”

  “Maybe I’m part raccoon,” I replied. That’s what I always say when she tells me I have circles around my eyes.

  “I think you should go to bed early tonight,” Dad chimed in. Dad always thinks that everyone should go to bed early.

  So I went to my room at nine-thirty. But of course I didn’t go to sleep.

  I read a book and listened to a tape on my Walkman. And waited for Mom and Dad to go to bed. And watched the clock.

  Mom and Dad are very heavy sleepers. You can pound and pound on their bedroom door, and they don’t wake up. They once slept through a hurricane. That’s the truth. They didn’t hear the tree that fell onto our house!

  Stephanie’s parents are heavy sleepers, too. That’s why it’s so easy for the two of us to sneak out of our bedroom windows. That’s why it’s so easy for us to haunt our neighborhood at night.

  As the clock neared midnight, I wished we were going out on one of our usual haunting trips. I wished we were going to hide under Chrissy Jacob’s window and howl like wolves. And then toss rubber spiders into Ben Fuller’s bed.