Attack of the Graveyard Ghouls Read online

  “Wake up!” I pawed Mom. “Wake up! Listen to me! Come on — wake up!”

  Mom groaned and rolled onto her side, turning her back to me.

  “Dad!” I cried. “Wake up! Come on!”

  Dad made a gurgling sound. His eyes popped open. He sat up, blinking hard. “Huh? Duke?”

  “What’s wrong, dear?” Mom asked sleepily. She lifted her head off the pillow and squinted at me.

  “The cat woke me up,” Dad replied.

  “It’s me — Spencer!” I exclaimed. “Can you understand me? Please — listen! There’s no time! There’s a ghoul in this house! An evil ghoul! We’ve got to act fast!”

  Mom and Dad stared at me as I explained. Then they exchanged worried glances.

  “You understand me!” I cried happily. “Yes! You understand me!”

  “Why is the cat yowling like that?” Dad asked.

  “No! Listen to me!” I screamed. “Listen to me!”

  But I knew my words were coming out as cat cries.

  Mom pulled a pillow over her head. “Get rid of him,” she moaned. “I can’t stand all that screeching.”

  “Let’s go, Duke,” Dad said. He sat up and made a grab for me.

  I leaped to the floor. My mind whirred frantically. How can I let them know it’s me? How can I make them listen?

  I saw Mom’s notebook open on the desk by the window. And a pen lying beside the notebook.

  I’ll write a message! I decided.

  I saw Dad climb out of bed. “Come on, Duke,” he sighed sleepily. “Don’t try to run away. You have to go back outside.”

  I turned away from him and jumped onto the desk. I stabbed my claws out and grabbed the pen. It rolled out from under my paw.

  I tried again.

  No. No way.

  No way to grip it.

  I lowered my head and tried to pick the pen up in my mouth. But it rolled off the desktop onto the bedroom carpet.

  Before I could go after it, Dad wrapped his hands around me. “Dumb cat. It’s a little late to be playing with pens.”

  I struggled and squirmed and yowled my head off. But Dad carried me downstairs and tossed me out the back door.

  The door slammed behind me.

  It took me a few seconds to gain my balance. I still wasn’t used to walking on all fours. Then I charged back up to the cat door. I lowered my head and pushed.

  Ouch!

  Dad had locked the cat door.

  Okay. No problem, I thought. I’m a cat. I’ll climb in through a window.

  I scampered up the tree at the back of the house. Then I carefully made my way along the branch outside my bedroom window.

  Taking a deep breath, I arched my back — and leaped onto the window ledge.

  The window was open a few inches. Was the ghoul in my body asleep in my bed? The billowing curtains blocked my view.

  I flattened myself on the narrow ledge. A tight squeeze, I saw. But cats can squeeze through anything — right?

  I poked my head into the bedroom. Flattened myself. Flattened myself …

  Squeezed through the window and crawled into the room.

  The curtains fluttered around me. I dropped silently to the floor. Crossed the room to my bed.

  Then I hopped onto the foot of the bed — and gasped.

  The pillows had been ripped apart. Feathers and stuffing covered the bed, the floor, my dresser.

  The sheets were also ripped. Torn into thin strips. The mattress had a gaping hole in its center.

  In the light from the window, I saw that my closet door had been pulled off its hinges. It stood tilted against the wall. My clothes had been pulled off the closet shelves, tossed on the floor.

  The wallpaper beside my dresser was shredded. It looked as if it had been clawed off the wall.

  “He really is evil!” I gasped. “He’s — he’s a monster!”

  But where is he?

  Then I heard a clattering sound. A soft THUD. From downstairs.

  I spun toward the door. Creeping into the hall, I followed the sounds, down to the kitchen.

  And there he stood. There I stood, in the glow of the refrigerator.

  I walked silently into the kitchen. He didn’t see me. He was too busy stuffing his face.

  Leaning into the refrigerator, he jammed handfuls of food into his mouth.

  Staring in shock, I watched him open a jar of pickles and swallow them all whole. He tossed the jar to the floor.

  Then he started grabbing up raw eggs from the refrigerator door and slamming them into his mouth.

  He smashed a Coke bottle on the side of the refrigerator, tilted his head back, and drank the liquid down in a gulp. Then he tossed the bottle across the kitchen and stuffed a whole head of lettuce into his mouth.

  I took a few steps closer, into the square of refrigerator light.

  The ghoul tilted a jar of mayonnaise to his mouth and hungrily gulped it down. He was still licking mayonnaise from the side of the jar when he spotted me.

  “So hungry …” he murmured — in my voice! “So hungry! I haven’t eaten in over two hundred years!”

  He dropped the jar to the floor and stared down at me.

  I let out a cry when I saw his eyes.

  He had my face, my hair, my whole body.

  But the eyes were dead and blank. I stared up into two deep, dark holes. Holes as black as death.

  He bit off the top of a carton of buttermilk and tilted the carton over his mouth. Buttermilk ran down his chin and puddled at his feet.

  “I know who you are,” he gurgled. “You’re wasting your time.”

  I stared up at him, stared into those deep holes where my eyes used to be.

  A sick grin spread over his face. “Want to know who I am?” he asked. “I’m you.”

  “No! I want my body back!” I cried.

  The words came out in cat yowls. But he seemed to understand me.

  “Go back to the graveyard,” he said through clenched teeth. “That’s your home now. You’re a graveyard ghoul.”

  “No —” I choked out. “Give me my body back.”

  “Ha.” The ghoul laughed. “You call this a body? This scrawny collection of bones! I don’t want this body.”

  He ripped the glasses from his face. Threw them to the floor and stomped on them.

  “My glasses!” I screamed. “You didn’t have to do that!”

  “As soon as I finish eating, know what else I’m going to do?” he leered. “I’m going to go out and find another body — a good, strong body — and I’m going to destroy yours!”

  “Noooo!” I screamed. I leaped at him. I landed on his leg — and clung to it with all four paws.

  I’m going back in, I decided. I’m taking my body back. But he grabbed me roughly by the back of the neck. And pulled me up in front of his sneering face.

  “Did you think it was going to be that easy?” He smirked. “Don’t you know who you’re dealing with, kitty cat? I’m Oswald Manse. What chance do you have against me?”

  Holding me in front of him, the ghoul tightened his hand on the back of my neck.

  Tightened … tightened …

  “Please —” I murmured with my last breath. “Please —”

  Pain shot through my body as the ghoul tightened his grasp on my throat. My fur bristled in panic.

  A door swung open in front of me. We were halfway down the basement steps before I realized what was happening.

  He carried me across the dark basement to a corner behind the furnace. Holding me with one hand, he rustled something on the floor.

  I couldn’t see it. But the sound sent a chill of fear down my back. I kicked hard with all four legs. But I couldn’t kick free.

  And then, without warning, he let go.

  I fell hard, into darkness. Darkness on all four sides.

  Blinking, I climbed to my feet. And realized he had dropped me into a cardboard carton.

  The lid slammed shut over my head.

  I let out
a yowl.

  The carton shook as he kicked it. I toppled onto my side.

  “Don’t cry, kitty,” I heard him say as he walked away. “You tried your best. But you lost.”

  I stood in the carton, listening to the ghoul’s footsteps stomp up the stairs. I heard the basement door close behind him.

  I haven’t lost yet! I told myself.

  I clawed the side of the box.

  I tried to chew it with my teeth.

  Then I tried clawing again, slashing at it until my nails ached and throbbed.

  This isn’t going to work, I realized. I stared at the top of the carton. I tried pushing my head against the side.

  I can’t escape, I decided. I’m too small. I’m not strong enough.

  I lowered my head sadly.

  And felt something drop onto my back.

  It prickled as it walked across my fur.

  “Ohhhhh.” I let out a terrified moan.

  I didn’t have to see it. I knew what it was.

  A spider.

  I raised a paw and batted the spider off my fur. It landed in front of me on the floor of the carton.

  Its legs scratched the cardboard as it moved, sending chills down my back.

  Oh, please, I thought. Why do I have to be trapped in here with a spider?

  It crawled steadily toward me.

  Closer … closer.

  I — I can’t take this, I thought.

  I raised a paw.

  I took a deep breath and started to bring it down on top of the spider.

  I’ll squash it, I decided. I have to squash it.

  My paw was nearly down to the carton floor when something made me stop.

  An idea. An inspiration!

  Whoa! Good thing I didn’t kill it, I told myself. The spider is my way out of here!

  I rested my paw carefully, lightly, on top of the spider. And I concentrated … concentrated …

  I felt myself floating into darkness. Floating into a tight, dark space.

  Yes.

  Inside the spider now.

  I tested the legs. Took several spidery breaths. I felt light. I felt strong.

  I’ll never be afraid of spiders again, I realized. Because now I am one!

  I slid through the crack in the carton and began the long, long walk across the basement.

  * * *

  How long did it take to climb up to my brother’s room?

  I don’t know, but it seemed to take forever.

  By the time I made my way across Jason’s bedroom floor, my whole body pulsed and throbbed. I wanted to spin a web and disappear inside it for a long rest.

  But I forced myself to keep going. Using my last ounce of strength, I dragged myself up his bedspread until I stood on his shoulder.

  Jason slept soundly on his side, his mouth slightly open, his curly dark hair matted against the pillow.

  I’m sorry about this, Jason, I said silently. But I need your body. I would never do this to my own brother if it wasn’t a total emergency.

  I scuttled onto his cheek. It felt warm and soft under my hairy spider body.

  I pressed myself against his skin and concentrated … concentrated …

  In a few seconds, I felt myself slipping down, down into darkness.

  Jason didn’t move.

  He didn’t wake up.

  I’ll give you back your body, I promised silently. As soon as I’ve captured my own body back, I’ll return this one to you.

  I sat up. Brushed back the curly dark hair. Opened Jason’s eyes.

  “Wow,” I uttered. A human word. In Jason’s voice.

  “I’m human again!”

  I jumped out of bed — and nearly crashed into the wall.

  Jason’s body was so heavy.

  Be careful, Spencer, I warned myself. You were just a tiny spider. Take your time. Get used to this big, human body.

  But, no.

  No time to get used to it, I realized. The ghoul said he was going to find a new body — and destroy mine!

  I may already be too late.

  I ran from the bedroom and raced down the hall. “Mom! Dad!” I cried. “Help me! Mom! Dad!”

  I stopped halfway down the hall — as a scream of horror rose up from the kitchen.

  I lurched down the stairs, stumbling, carrying my new, heavy body like a big sack of flour. I stopped in the kitchen doorway.

  Mom and Dad stood bathed in the light from the open refrigerator door. Their faces were twisted in horror and shock. Their mouths hung open as they saw all the spilled food, broken glass, empty jars and bottles.

  “Oh, wow,” I murmured.

  Mom turned to me. “Jason — who did this?”

  “I have to tell you —” I started to explain.

  “Who did this? Who? Have you seen Spencer?” Mom demanded.

  “I’m Spencer!” I declared. “I had to borrow Jason’s body.”

  “Jason — this is no time for jokes!” Dad cried angrily. “Look at this horrible mess!”

  “I’m not joking!” I insisted. “You’ve got to listen to me! I’m Spencer. A ghoul stole my body. So I had to take Jason’s body. I —”

  “Not now, Jason,” Mom interrupted. She turned to Dad. “I told Spencer not to let him watch any more monster movies.”

  “You’ve got to listen to me!” I shrieked at the top of Jason’s lungs. “I have to get my body back before the ghoul destroys it. I need your help!”

  “Go to your room,” Dad snapped. He waved me to the steps. “Go. Now. We’ll talk later. Mom and I have a big cleanup on our hands. Someone must have broken into the house.”

  “But — but — but —” I sputtered.

  I could see they weren’t going to listen. So I turned and ran upstairs.

  I pulled on a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt. Then I grabbed Jason’s parka and raced out the front door.

  Someone has got to listen to me! I told myself. Someone has got to do something.

  I ran to the corner and stopped with a gasp. My shoes crunched over broken glass.

  Two cars parked at the curb had their windshields shattered. The hoods and trunks were bent and battered, as if someone had taken a sledgehammer to them.

  I trotted past, staring up at the houses and garages. Flames rose out of a car in the next driveway. Garbage cans were overturned.

  The door to the next house stood wide open. I heard a baby crying inside.

  The front windows of the house after that were shattered. Bright orange flames blazed from the curtains.

  On the corner, flames shot out of a mailbox. Two more cars were battered, their windshields smashed to tiny shards of glass.

  From down the street, I heard angry cries and frightened shrieks. Shrill wails of panic filled the air. I saw people running in bathrobes and pajamas.

  At the end of the block, the woods were on fire. I saw a van on its side, tires slashed. Heavy black smoke made me choke and cover my eyes.

  Squinting through the smoke, I saw the ghoul. A shadowy figure moving through the flames, moving from house to house, destroying everything in his path.

  In the distance, I heard the rise and fall of sirens. Sirens on all sides. Fire engines … The police.

  This is all my fault, I thought, gripped with horror. All my fault. I knocked over that double gravestone. I gave him a way out of the graveyard.

  The ghoul darted across the street. He rocked a car until he tilted it onto its side. His high, shrill laughter rose over the screams of horror from people in their houses.

  All my fault … all my fault …

  The words repeated in my mind.

  And then I saw me — my body — charge up to a fireman who was fighting one of the blazes. The ghoul reached out and snatched an ax from his hand.

  “Hey! Give that back!” The fireman bolted forward to grab it. But the ghoul swung it wildly at him. The fireman backed off.

  The ghoul dashed down the street and swung the ax at a mailbox post.

  The post snap
ped in two. The mailbox clattered to the street.

  He charged up to a garage and began chopping away at the garage door. Splintering it. Swinging again.

  And then I heard a fierce cry: “Drop that ax!”

  I spun around and saw two dark-uniformed police officers, their faces grim, their eyes reflecting the flames of the house next door.

  “Drop the ax!” the officer repeated. He had a hand on his gun holster.

  The ghoul in my body whirled around. The dark, empty eyes glared at the two policemen. And then he swung the ax, swung the ax at an officer’s head.

  “Drop it — or we’ll shoot!” the officer boomed.

  “No!” I cried, hurtling over to them. “No! Don’t shoot! That’s my body!”

  “Get away, kid!” an officer yelled.

  The ghoul swung the ax again.

  “Don’t shoot him!” I screamed.

  “We have no choice!” the policeman cried.

  I froze in horror as they raised their guns.

  “Noooo!” I wailed. “That’s my body! It’s mine! Don’t destroy it!”

  Both officers turned to me.

  “Are you crazy, kid?”

  “Get away from here — now!”

  The officers and I turned back to the ghoul.

  He had vanished.

  I lowered my hands to my knees and struggled to catch my breath. The two officers took off to search for the ghoul.

  I heard screams over the fence, coming from the next yard. Frank Foreman’s yard. I leaped over the fence and saw the ghoul demolishing the Foremans’ toolshed with the ax.

  I ducked behind a tree and watched him, trying to figure out the best way to get my body back from him.

  In seconds the shed sat in splinters. “Hmmmm,” the ghoul murmured. “Firewood.”

  Then before I could cry out, the ghoul lit a match and set the pile ablaze.

  The dry wood shot up in flames instantly.

  The ghoul stared deep into the fire, the flames reflecting in the dark holes that were once my eyes.

  The fire blazed up, with flames leaping to the branches of a nearby tree. A tree that hung directly over the Foremans’ house!

  Oh, no! The Foremans’ house is going to catch on fire! I realized. I’d better go in and warn them!