The Curse of the Creeping Coffin...“I’m bored,” you moan. “I’m so bored, I could eat...
Transcript of The Curse of the Creeping Coffin...“I’m bored,” you moan. “I’m so bored, I could eat...
BEWARE!!DONOTREADTHIS
BOOKFROMBEGINNINGTOEND!
Youcan’tbelieveit!Youstareoutthewindowatthecreepycemeteryinyourgrandmother’sbackyard.Thegravesaremoving!You’resureofit.Thenyouturntoseeanevenmorefrighteningsight—yourgrandmother’shouseishauntedbyghosts.Lotsofghosts.Evilghostswhowantyou!
Whyarethecreepingcoffinscreeping?Doyoustaytofindoutordoyouracehome—eventhoughaterrifyingghostiswaitingforyouthere,too?
Ifyoustayyoudiscoverthatthecoffinsarespellingamessageinthegraveyard—amessagethatspellsoutyourdoom.UnlessyoucanfindtheghostwhoistheKeeperoftheSword,stealthesword,andplungeitintothegraveoftheMPG!What’sanMPG?You’llhavetofindoutforyourself—buthurry,theghostsaremovingcloserandcloser….
You’reincontrolofthisscaryadventure.Youdecidewhatwillhappen.Andhowterrifyingthescareswillbe!
StartonPAGE1.Thenfollowtheinstructionsatthebottomofeachpage.Youmakethechoices.
SOTAKEADEEPBREATH.CROSSYOURFINGERS.ANDTURNTOPAGE1NOWTOGIVEYOURSELFGOOSEBUMPS!
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“I’mbored,”youmoan.“I’msobored,Icouldeatflies.Justtoseehowtheytaste.”
“Flieshavegerms,”yourgrandmotherreplies.
Itisahot,stickydayinthemiddleofJuly.Youplopdownintoacreakyoldchairinyourgrandmother’skitchen.Yourparentsdroppedyouoffyesterday,beforetheyleftfortheirvacation.Andalreadyyoucoulddieofboredom.
Yourgrandmother’solddog,Sparkle,yawnsloudly.Hecrawlsunderthetable.Momentslater,hebeginstosnore.
“Iknowjusthowyoufeel,Sparkle,”yousay.Yousighloudly.
“Whydon’tyougooutsideandfindsomethingtodo?”yourgrandmothersuggests.Shelooksupfromthepieshe’sbakingandnodstowardthebackyard.
Gooutthere?youthink.Intoherbackyard?Noway.
Youglanceoutthewindow.It’sprobablyninetydegreesintheshade,butyoushiver.Yourgrandmother’shouseisrightinfrontofanoldcemetery.Rowsandrowsofold,crumblingtombstonessitjustbeyondtheedgeofherbackyard.
Butthat’snotwhatscaresyou.
Whatscaresyouisthatthetombstoneshavebeenmoving!
GoontoPAGE2.
Younoticeditrightafteryouarrivedyesterday.
Yousawthetombstonesfromyourbedroomwindowonthesecondfloor.Youcouldtellsomeofthegraveshadcoolcarvingsonthem,soyoudecidedtogooutsideandtakeacloserlook.
Butwhenyouenteredthegraveyard,somethingwasdifferent.Strange.
Someofthegraveswereoutofplace.
Nah,can’tbe,youtoldyourself.Gravesdon’tdisappear.
Butstill…
Fromyourbedroomwindow,youcouldhaveswornthereweresixorsevengravesinthebackrow.
Nowtherewereonlythree!
Nah….Youmusthavecountedwrong.Youdecidedtoforgetitandwenttobed.
Butwhenyouwokeupthismorningandglancedoutthewindow,thecoffinshadmovedagain.
Nowtherewereteninthebackrow!Andthemiddlerowsseemedmorecrowded.Italmostlookedasifsomeofthegravesweremovingforwardandsomeofthegravesweremovingbackward,andtherewasabigtrafficjaminthecenter.
Thecoffinswererearrangingthemselves!
Buthow?Andwhy?
GoontoPAGE3.
Yourgrandmothertapsyouontheshoulder.Shesnapsyououtofyourdaydream.“Goon,”shesays.“Goplayoutside.”
Outside?Outthere?Youshudderasyouglanceoutthekitchenwindowagain.“Oh,no,”youcry.“It’sdisappeared!”
“What’sdisappeared?”yourgrandmotherasks.
“Thegravewiththeangelonit!”youscreech,pointingoutthewindow.“It’sgone!”
Oneheadstoneinparticularcaughtyoureyeyesterday.Ithadanangelcarvingonit.Theangellookedsorealisticyoupracticallybelievedshecouldflyaway.
Didshe?
Yourgrandmotherpeersoutthekitchenwindow.“Don’tbeagoose,”shescoldsyou.“Thattombstoneisstillthere.”
Youdon’tanswerher.Youcan’t.Yourheartispoundingcrazilyandyourmouthhasgonedry.Youboltoutthebackdoor.You’vegottoseeforyourself.
Butinthegraveyardyoudiscoverthatyourgrandmotherisright.Thetombstonewiththeangelisn’tgone.
Itjustmoved!
Ithadbeeninthelastrow.Nowit’supfront.
I’mlosingmymind,youthink.Losingitcompletely.
Orareyou?
FindoutonPAGE4.
Yourunbackintothehouseshouting.
“Grandma!”youyell.“Thatgravewiththeangelonit—”
Yourgrandmotherinterruptsyou.“Youdon’thavetoshout,dear.Theangel?”Shelooksupfromherpiecrust.“That’saniceone.Letmesee.Whowasburiedthere?Oh,yes.That’sElmyraMartin’sgrave.”
Beforeyoucanexplainaboutthemovinggravestones,avoiceonthefarsideoftheroommakesyoujump.“ThenameisElviraMartin,”thevoicesayssharply.“NotElmyra.Younevercouldgetmynameright!”
Yourmouthdropsopen.Astrangewomannowstandsinthedoorwaythatleadsfromthekitchenintothehall.
Averystrangewoman.Becausesheisn’taliving,breathingwoman.She’saghost!
“Uh,Grandma…?”youbegin.Butfromthewayyourgrannyishummingtoherself,youcantellshedoesn’thearorseethisscaryvisitor.
“Anddon’tyoustareatme,youlittlewretch,”theghostsays,pointingatyou.“Oryou’llbesorry.”
Whatareyougoingtodo?Suddenlyyou’relivinginahauntedhouse!
Ifyourunoutside,turntoPAGE18.
Ifyoutalktotheghost,turntoPAGE25.
Toyouramazement,itworks!Thehorsegrowssmaller.
Hey—cool!
Youpushthevolumebuttondownagain.Likemagic,theghost-horsegrowsevensmaller.
“Wow!”youshout.YoustartpushingotherbuttonsontheTVremotecontrol.Youcanhardlywaittoseewhatwillhappen!
Unbelievably,whenyoupresstheCHANNELbutton—theonethatmovesuptothenextchannel—theghost-horsechangesintosomethingelse!Aghostlykung-fumaster!
Whenyoupressthebuttonagain,thekung-fughostchangesintotheghostofanEgyptianpharaoh.
“Thisisamazing!”youexclaim.
Thenyoupressitonemoretime.
Uh-oh.Bigmistake.
TurntoPAGE129.
YouturnandrunfromLark.Buthe’sgainingonyou.Andhisfriendshavejoinedinthechase.
“Let’sgetthoselittlecreeps!”Lark’sfriendsareshouting.
YouandRobinareskiddingaroundacornerwhenyouhearavoicewhisperinyourear.“I’llhelpyou—ononecondition.YouhavetopromisetodowhateverIasktomorrow.”
It’stheghost-boy!Youcan’tseehim,butyouheardhisoffer.Whatareyougoingtodo?
Ifyouaccepttheghost’soffer,turntoPAGE52.
Ifnot,turntoPAGE59.
Yuck!Everythinginthebucketspillsalloveryourhair,head,face,shoulders,andshirt.
Raweggs.Warmsoda.Sourmilk.Breadcrumbs.It’sdisgusting.
Someusedtissuesaremixedinthere,too.
“Whatdidyoudothatfor?”youyellangrily.
“Yousawthesign,”Diggerreplies.“Notrespassers.Thatmeansyou.”
Whatacreep!youthink.Diggerisatotal,certifiedjerk.
Inotherwords,he’sjustwhatyouneedtodealwiththisghost!
Sowhatareyougoingtodo?Keepclimbing—andtakeyourchanceswithDigger?Orfacetheghostalone?
Ifyoukeepclimbing,turntoPAGE11.
Ifyoufacetheghostalone,turntoPAGE38.
TheLuckmeyertwins?Whataretheyuptonow?youwonder.
AsMacFarlingdrivesoff,younoticethattheskyisgrowingdark.Nightisfallingandthere’sathinwispyringofcloudsaroundthemoon.
Anowlhootsnearby.Thenitswoopstowardyou!Itsclawsseemtobeaimedrightforyourface!
Youduck—andfeelthetipofitswingbrushpastyourcheek.Whenyouglanceup,younoticeacurtainmovinginawindowonthesecondfloorofyourgrandmother’shouse.
Theretheyare!Thatteenageghostandhistwinsisterwiththebraidswrappedaroundherhead—JaneandJohnLuckmeyer!Johnpointsdownatyouandlaughsevilly.
Ihopehe’snottheKeeperoftheSword,youthink.
Thenyounoticesomethingstrangeupintheatticwindow.Alightflickersonandoff.Onandoff.Someoneisupthere.IsittheKeeperoftheSword?
There’sonlyonewaytofindout.Youtakeadeepbreathandheadtowardthehouse.Thehauntedhouse.
IfyouthinkJohnLuckmeyeristheKeeperoftheSword,turntoPAGE88.
IfyouthinktheKeeperoftheSwordishidingintheattic,turntoPAGE102.
Whenthedustsettles,youarestunnedbywhatyousee.Glory,theghoststallion,hasdoubledinsize!
Andhewasalreadyabighorse.
“Neattrick,”yourgrandmothersays.“That’squiteagadget.”Shegetsupandheadsforthekitchen.“I’mgoingforasoda,”shetellsyou.“Wantone?”
“N-n-noth-thanks,”youstammer.YoustareatGlory.Thegianthorsetowersoveryou,pawingtherug.
“Whatbuttondidyoupush?”youshouttoyourgrandmother.
“Oh,Idon’tknow,”shecallsback.“Ithinkitwastheonethatturnsupthesound.”
Okay,youthink.MaybeifIturnthesounddown…
Yourfingerhoversoverthevolumebutton.Youhesitate.Whatifpushingthebuttonwillmakethehorsebigger?Whatifmoreghost-horsesappear?
Gotabetteridea?
Youpushthevolumebutton.Down.
PushthebuttononPAGE5.
Youdon’texactlyfeellikepracticingthepianorightnow.Butyoudecidetobenicetothisoldwoman.Yougowithher,andsheleadsyoutoafancyoldgrandpiano.
Shesitsyoudownandturnsonametronome.
TICK.TOCK.TICK.TOCK.
“NowplayaG-majorscaleforme,”shesays.
Forthenexthalfhour,youtakeapianolesson.Withaghost!Whenyou’redone,Mrs.Hatfieldsmiles.
“RememberhowIalwaysusedtogiveyouatreatattheendofyourlesson?”shesays.“Well,Ihaveatreatforyounow.”
“What’sthis?”youaskasshehandsyouapieceofpaper.
“It’samapofmybackyard,”shesays.“Yousee,Iburiedalotofgoldoutundertheappletree.AndIforgottomentionitinmywill.Sonooneknowsit’sthere.Iwantyoutohaveit—asarewardforbeingsonicetometoday.Forlettingmegiveyouapianolessononemoretime.”
“Uh,bu-duh…but…wow,thanks!”youmumblelikeanidiot.
Thenithitsyou.Whatgoodwillthegolddoyou—ifyou’reaghost?
TurntoPAGE123.
Youclimbthelaststepsoftheladder.Youreachthetreehouseplatformandpullyourselfontoit.
“Youdon’tgiveup,doyou?”Diggersays,soundingmildlyimpressed.
“Never,”yousay,tryingtosounddeterminedandtough.
Diggerbrusheshislong,greasybrownhairoutofhiseyes.He’sathick,chunkykidwithbadteethandworseskin.
“Sowhatdoyouwant?”Diggerasksyou.
“Atowel,foronething,”yousay,wipingoffsomeoftheyuckygunkhedumpedonyourhead.
Diggerthrowsyouarag.Youtrytocleanyourselfup.ThenyoulookDiggerintheeyes.
“Ineedyourhelp,”youtellhim.“There’saghostwho’sfollowingmearound.”
“Aghost?”Diggersays.Hisfaceturnswhiteandhelooksaroundnervously.“Where?”
“Idon’tknow,”youadmit.“Hecouldbebackatmyhouse.Orhecouldberighthere.”
“Here?”Diggercries.
GotoPAGE29.
Youdecidetotrustthisguy.He’salittleweirdlooking,butheseemsharmless.Evenifheisaghost.
“I’mJohn,”theboysays.“You’vegottogetawayfromhere.Thatclosetisfilledwithhorriblespirits.Quick—closethedoorandhideinthebasement!”
Youdoashesays,slammingtheclosetdoorhard.Thenyourundownthestairstothekitchen.Thenintothebasement.
Whydownhere?youwonder,asyoulookaroundatthedamp,grungyoldbasementbeneathyourgrandmother’shouse.
You’veneverlikedthisplace.It’scold.It’sdark.Butevenworsearethebig,uglycrickets.Theygetinfromoutsidethroughcracksinthebasementwalls.Thentheyhopalloverthebasement.
Youhatethem.
“Uh,howcomewehavetohidedownhere?”youask.
That’swhenyourealizethatJohnisn’twithyou.
“John?”youcall.
BAM!Youwhirlaroundandseethebasementdoorslamshut.CLICK.Andlock.
Thatghosthaslockedyouin!
TurntoPAGE20.
TodayisFriday.
Soyouthinkit’syourluckyday,huh?Youthinkthecaretakerisgoingtocomeandgetyououtofthatcoffin?
Thinkagain.TodayisFridaythe13th!
Ifyoudon’tbelieveit,justlookatthepagenumber!
Sure,thecaretakercomes.Buthehasanearinfection.Hecan’thearyouscreaming.Andbythetimehecomesagainnextweek,you’renotscreaminganymore.
Sorry.Guessthiswasn’tyourluckydayafterall!
THEEND
Congratulations!YoupickedtherightSarah.SarahMcGinnis.Bornin1918.Diedin1940,attheageoftwenty-two.
Youknewshewastherightone—becausethefencingghostwasayoungbeauty.Soshemusthavediedyoung.TheotherSarahinthegraveyardlivedtobeseventy-fiveyearsold.
Verycleverofyoutofigureitout!
Suddenly,youhearhervoice.Itfillsyourears.“IamtheKeeperoftheSword,”shecallstoyoufromhergrave.“Letmyfoildothework.Letgo!”
Letgo?Weird,youthink.Butyoudoit.
Assoonasthefoilleavesyourhand,itfloatsinmidair.Thenitplungesitselfdeeplyintotheearth.
IntoBrandonEstep’sgrave!
“Aaaaahhh!”theghostcries.Hisshimmeringbodybeginstofade—andthendisappearsbackintotheearth.
Youreyesopenwideandyourmouthdropsopenasyougazeatanamazingsight.Thecoffinsarecreepingagain—backtotheiroriginalpositions!Youdidit!Thecursehasbeendefeated!
Butthere’sonlyoneproblem.Brandon’sghostlybodyisgone—buthisironfistisstillclutchingyourarm!
TurntoPAGE86.
“Turnoffthatstupidlight,”Elvirascreams.“I’mtryingtogetsomesleep!”
“Sorry!”Youquicklyflickoffthelight.Butyoudon’thaveanytroubleseeingElvira.Sheglowsinthedark.
“Ihavetoaskyousomething,”youtellher.
Butshepullsthepillowoverherface.Thisisn’tgoingtobeeasy.She’sonesleepyghost.
Thenyouhaveanidea.Youflickonthelightagain.Elvirasitsstraightupandletsoutapiercingwail.
“Elvira,”yousay,“I’llturnoffthelightifyou’llansweroneteenyquestion.Thenyoucansleepaslongasyouwant.Ipromise.”
Hereyesbegintoglowgreenagain.Butshelooksverysleepy.Maybeshe’llbetootiredtohurtyou.
“Who’sthemostpowerfulghostinthegraveyard?”youblurtout.
Elvirablinksabit.“Hmmm,”shesays.“I’dsayMelvinEstep’sboy.Hedoestendtoruleuswithanironhand.”
“TheEstepboy?”youmutter.“Buttherearetwoofthem.MelvinII,andBrandon.Whichone?”
ButElviradoesn’tanswer.She’sfastasleep.
Andyoupromisedyouwouldn’twakeherupagain!
Youalwayskeepapromise.HurrytoPAGE43.
Aghost-hunter.Thatisexactlywhatyouneed!
ButhowareyougoingtofindthisMacFarlingguy?
Youdashoutofyourroomandrundownstairsasfastasyoucan.Yourushbackintothekitchen.
“Grandma,”yougasp,almostoutofbreath.“DoyouknowsomeonenamedMacFarling?”
“Oh,don’tgotalkingtomeaboutMacMacFarling,”shesays.“Thatloon.Hecamearoundherelastmonth.Toldmehethoughtmyhousewouldbehauntedsoon.Saidsomethingaboutacurse,too.Canyouimaginethat?Idon’twantyougoinganywherenearthatman.”
Uh,let’sfaceit.Granny’snotgoingtobemuchhelp.
Soyouracetothecomputer.Onahunch,yousearchfor“GhostExterminators.”
Bingo!Thereheis.”
MacMacFarling.Ghost-hunter.Theremaybehopeafterall.
AslongasyoucangetoutofthehousebeforeElvirafindsoutwhatyou’redoing!
Shhhh.TiptoeoutthedooronPAGE33.
“Aaaahhhh!”youscreamasyoufeelyourselfbeingpulledintotheground.
Youcan’tbelieveit,butit’strue.Somehow,magically,youarebeingpulledunderground,asifyourownbodyweremadeoffilmyair,liketheghost’s.
Ithurts.Infact,yourwholebodyachesasitisdraggedrightintotheground.Butonlyforaninstant.Thenyoufeelnothing.
Youcloseyoureyes.Whenyouopenthem,you’relyinginacoffin—ontopofapileofoldrottedclothesandbones!
Yourheartstartspoundingwildly.Youwanttoscream,butyoudon’tdare.Youcanalreadysensethatthecoffinhasverylittleair.
Andyoudon’tdareuseitup.Notwhenyouknowthatyou’reinanoldcoffin…sixfeetunderground…withnowayout.
You’reburiedalive!
GoontoPAGE40.
“Uh,I’mg-goingout-outside,”youstutter.
“That’snice,”yourgrandmothersays,returningtoherbaking.“Andwhenyoucomebackin,Ihopeyou’llstopbeingsosilly.”
Shestilldoesn’tnoticetheghostinthedoorway.
Youbackuptowardthedoortotheporch.Youkeepyoureyeontheghostthewholetime.Andshekeepsherglowingeyesonyou.Assoonasyourhandreachesthedoorknobbehindyou,youturn,flingopenthedoor,andbolt.
Butjustasyoustartdownthebackporchsteps,twohandsgrabyourankle.
“Aaaahhhh!”youcryasyoutrip.Yousprawlheadfirstdownthestairs.
LandonPAGE39.
It’spitch-blackinthehouse.Butyou’reokay.You’renottotallyfreakedoutbythedark.Notyet,anyway.
“Imeanit!”Larkyells.“Youtwoaregoingtogetitifyoudon’tturnthoselightsbackon.AndImeannow!”
YouandRobinstandfrozeninthekitchen.Butbeforeyoucanevenmovetowardthecircuitbreakerbox,thelightspopbackon.
“Whoa!Oh,man!”youhearLarkandhisfriendsyelling.
Youhurrytothefamilyroom.That’swhereLarkandhisbuddieswerewatchingamovieonTV.Youpeekinthedoor.
Whatasight!Popcornalloverthefloor.Drinksspilledontherug.Couchcushionstossedallovertheroom.
Larkspotsyouinthedoorway.HeglaresatyouandRobin—thenlungestowardyou.Hishandsreachstraightforyourthroat.
You’dbetterrun—quick!—toPAGE6.
“Help!”youcry.“Letmeout!”
Youturntoseeifthere’sanotherwayoutofthebasement.Gross!Thosedisgustingcricketsarehoppingeverywhere.Theremustbehundredsofthem!Thechirpingisenoughtomakeyoucrazy.
Theyhopfromthewindowsills.Theyjumpupanddownthestairs.Theypouncefromthesinktothefloor.Fromthefloortoachair.Jump!Jump!Jump!
Ack!Onelandsonyourhead!
“Yuck!”youscream.Youswipeatyourhead.“Getoffme!”Moregreenish-browncricketshoparoundyourfeet.
Youbangonthebasementdoor.“Letmeoutofhere!”
“Heh,heh,”youhearJohnsnickeringontheotherside.
Whatacreep,youthink.
Thenitdawnsonyou.
“Hey,John,”youcallthroughthedoor.“What’syourlastname?”
“Luckmeyer,”theghostanswers.
Figures!MacMacFarlingwasright.
“Uh-oh,”JohnLuckmeyermumblesontheothersideofthebasementdoor.“Herecomestrouble!”
Whatnow?Youhaveenoughtroublealready—intheformofateenageghoul.
GotoPAGE68.
Youtrytograbathersword.Butyougetahandfulofnothing.Theswordhasnosubstance.Itisn’tsolid.It’sjustair!
Thewomanlaughs.Howcanshedothatwithoutahead?“Myswordisnothingwithoutme,”shesaysmysteriously.“AndIamnothingwithoutmyhead.Ifyouwantthesword,youmustfindmyhead.”
Youheardthewoman.
Well,whatareyouwaitingfor?
Gofindherhead.
Now!
TurntoPAGE62.
Theghostfloatstowardyouandsneersinyourface.
“DoItakeitthatyou’refinallyreadytomakeadeal?”theghostasks.
Robinstares,openmouthedattheghost.Thisisthefirsttimehe’sactuallyseentheghostintheflesh.Orrather,almostflesh.
Foramoment,Robincan’tspeak.Hejustwatchestheairycreaturefloatingaroundunderthestreetlamplight.ThenRobinstartstosmile.“Cool!”Robinsays.“Totallycool!”
“Youwantmyservices,”theghostgoeson,“toscarethoseguys.Andinexchange,Iwantyourpromise.YoumustagreetodoanythingIaskofyoutomorrow.”
“Deal!”Robinsays.
“Uh,Idon’tknow,”youreply.“Whatifheasksustodosomethingwrong?Somethingillegalorsomething?”
Robinshakeshisheadandleansovertoyou.“Thenwejustwon’tdoit,”hewhispers.“Comeon.Don’tyouwanttogetbackatLark?”
Well?Don’tyou?
Ifyoumakethedealwiththeghost,turntoPAGE81.
Ifyoustillrefuse,turntoPAGE63.
Goodwork!Youaddedright.ThenumbersinthedateofSarahGrayson’sdeathaddupto23.
Butthere’sjustoneproblem.Abigone.You’vegotthewrongSarah!
Figureitout.SarahGraysonwasbornin1820.Shediedin1895.Thatmadeherseventy-fiveyearsoldwhenshedied.
Buttheghostyousaw—thefencingwoman—wasyoung.Remember?Longblackhair.Rubylips.
Notanoldlady.Ayoungone.
Whichmeans,theMostPowerfulGhosthasyouinhispowerfulirongrip.Andyou’vegotnomagicalnumbertogetoutofit!
Uh-oh.
Okay.You’llgetabreakthistime.
Gobacktothegraveyardandpickagain.ChoosetheyoungerSarahthistime.Addupthedigitsintheyearofherdeath.Thenturntothatpage.
RevisitthegraveyardonPAGE96.
TheCivilWarsoldierraiseshishugesword.Youquicklyrolloutoftheway.Theswordplungesintotheground.Youscrambletoyourfeetandrunasthesoldierwrestlesthebladeoutofthedirt.
Wherecanyougo?Whatcanyoudo?Yourheartpoundsasyouracedowntheroadtowardtown.Maybeyoucangethelp.Maybethepolicewilldriveby.MaybesomeonebesidesyouwillseethisCivilWarsoldieranddosomethingtosaveyou!
Maybenot.
Youseetwochoicesupahead.There’sasmallbridgethatcrossesanarrowriver.Ifyouruntothebridge,maybeyoucanhideunderit.
Youalsoseeasmallredbarnacrossthestreet.It’sbehindthefarmhouseacrossfromyourgrandmother’shouse.
Anothergoodhidingplace.
Whichisit?Thebridgeorthebarn?
Ifyouruntothebridge,turntoPAGE32.
Ifyouhideinthebarn,turntoPAGE55.
“Whyareyouhere?”youasktheghost.
Butyourgrandmotherthinksyouaretalkingtoher.
“YouknowwhyI’mhere,”yourgrandmotheranswers.“Ilivehere.Don’tbesuchagoose!”
Forsomereason,yourgrandmothercan’tseeElvira.
You’vealwayswantedtohaveaspecialskill.Butghost-spottingwasn’twhatyouhadinmind!
YoutrytothinkofawaytoaskElviraaquestionwithouthavingyourgrandmotherthinkyou’recompletelycrazy.Butyoucan’t.Soyoukeepstaringattheghost.
Sheglaresatyouamoment,thenmotionsforyoutofollowher.Youwatchasshefloatsintothehallandupthestairstowardyourroom.
Followaghost?youthink.Areyounuts?
Justtheideagivesyouachill.
Ifyoufollowtheghost,turntoPAGE49.
Ifyouraceoutofthishousefast—andGOHOME!—turntoPAGE30.
You’regoingtotrustaghost?Noway!Whoknowswhathe’sgotuphisruffledsleeve?Ifthisghostdoesn’twantyoutoseewhat’sinthecloset,youbetit’ssomethingthatcanhelpyouun-hauntyourgrandmother’shouse.
Youpeerintothedarkcloset.Youdon’tseeanything.
Youglancebackattheghost.Heseemsnervous.Good.
Soyouwalkrightintothecloset.
AAAAAAhhhhhh!!!!!
Thereisnothingunderyourfeetbutair!Youdesperatelytrytograbholdofsomething—anything!—butit’snouse.You’refallingdown,down,downintothedarkness.
See,yourgrandmotherhasturnedthisclosetintoaclotheschute.Sheopensthedoorandtossesherdirtylaundryin.Theclothesfallstraightdowntothebasement.That’swherethewasheris.
Andit’stwo-storydrop.
Getthepicture?
Now—howwouldyouliketobewashed?Hotwaterorcold?Withorwithoutbleach?Becauseit’stimetocleanupyouract,kid.You’reallwashedupintheghost-huntingbusiness!
THEEND
YouplungeyourswordintoMelvinEstepII’sgrave.
Themomentthefoilpiercestheground,MelvinEstepIIrisesupoutoftheearth.
Oooooohh…reallybadchoice!
He’snottheMPG—he’stheMHG!TheMostHorribleGhost!
Asthestinkingmistthatsurroundshimbeginstoclear,youcanseehehasnoface.Thereisjustaskull—filledwithrats!Thesquealingrodentspopoutofhiseyesockets.Theyrunupanddownhischeekbones,andinthroughhisgrinningmouth.
Herisesup,up,up,toweringoveryou.He’shuge!Yousinktoyourkneesinterror.“N-n-nooooo,”youwhimper.
Heiscoveredinshreddedrags,teemingwithbugs.Stripsofrottingfleshfallfromhisskeletalbody.Heliftshishorribleskullheadtotheskyandletsoutanunearthlymoan.Thenhefixeshisrat-filledeyesocketsonyou!
Andthen…andthen…hisbloodyhandsreachforyourthroat!
Faceit.Whathappensnextistoogross,evenforyou!
You’dbetterclosethebookfornow,andopenitagainwhenyouthinkyoucansurviveallthewayto
THEEND.
Youdecidetoplayitsafe—byaskingElviraforhelp.
Youturnandraceintothehouse.YourgrandmotheriswatchingTVintheden.Youdashpasther.Shedoesn’tevenlookupfromherprogram.Theeerielightfromthetelevisionistheonlylightinthewholehouse.
Youhurryupthebackstairstoyourroom.You’vegottofindtheMPG.Andthere’sonlyoneperson—orghost—whomightbeabletohelpyou.
Youfliponalightinyoursmallguestbedroom.
Apiercingshriekshattersthenight!
Nowwhat?CoveryourearsandturntoPAGE15.
AssoonasDiggerhearsthattheghostmaybenearby,hepanics.
Hegrabsaropethat’stiedaroundabigtreelimb,runstotheedgeoftheplatform,andjumps.Heswingsdowntothegroundinaspeedyescape.
Thenherunsintohishouseandlocksthedoor.
Locksthedoor?Againstaghost?
Howsilly.
You’dlaugh—ifyouweren’tstillallstickyfromtheegg-yuckhepouredonyou.
Oh,well.Likemostbullies,Diggerturnedouttobeacoward.
Somuchforaskingyourworstenemyforhelp.
Sticktoyourbestfriendfromnowon.
YourbestfriendiswaitingforyouonPAGE73.
Youdecidetogetoutofyourgrandmother’shouse.Onthedouble.
“Uh,Grandma,”yousay.“Idon’tfeelwell.Infact,IthinkI’mgettingreallysick.IthinkIshouldgohome.”
“Butdear,”yourgrandmothersays.“Youcan’tgohome.Notwithyourparentsawayonvacation.”
Well,itwasworthashot.
Youswallowhardandglanceovertowheretheghostwasstanding.She’sgone.
Maybeyouwereimaginingthings.Maybethegravestonesaren’tmoving.Maybeyoureallyaresick!
Thebestthingtodoisgouptoyourroomandliedown.Youclimbthestairstothesecondfloor.Butasyoureachthedoortoyourroom,youfreeze.
Thereinthedoorwayisaterrifyingsight!
HurrytoPAGE42.
Yourthroattightensinterror.Yourheartpoundswildly.Bothyouandyourgrandmotherarecursed,now!
Yourgrannycan’tevenseetheghosts!Shewon’tbeabletosaveherself.It’salluptoyou.
Yougriptheswordsohardyourhandcramps.You’vegottostopthecoffinsfrommovingagain.Andyou’vegottodoitnow,beforethefinalcoffinmovesintoplaceandthecurseiscomplete!
ButwhoistheMostPowerfulGhost?
“Onemoreletter,”youmutter.Onlyonemoreletterisneededtospelloutthemessage.ThelastletterinthewordDIE—theletterE.
Thenithitsyou.TheMostPowerfulGhostmustbesomeonewhoselastnamestartswithanE!
That’sit!Youmayliveafterall!Yourunthroughthegraveyard,lookingatthetombstones,searchingforE’s.
Youfindthree.MelvinEstep.MelvinEstepII.AndBrandonEstep.
ButwhichoneistheMPG?
Youcouldguess.OryoucouldgointhehouseandaskElviraforhelp.
Ifyouguess—takeastabatitonPAGE48.
IfyouaskElviraforhelp,turntoPAGE28.
Thebridgelooksgoodtoyou.Youcanslipdownthebanktotheriverandhideunderit.Youmightbeabletosneakaroundandchangedirections.Maybeyou’lllosethesoldierafterall.
Butbeforeyouevenreachtheriverbank,youfeelaheavyhandonyourshoulder.
“Halt,traitor!”thesoldiercries.
“No!”youscream,twistingaway.Youstumbleabitandlurchforward,outofhisgrasp.Youkeeprunning.
Finallyyoureachthebridge.Butthesoldierisrightbehindyou.Heswingshisswordwildlyatyou—asiftocutoffyourhead!
“No!”youcryagain,jumpingbackward.
Uh-oh.Backwardwasn’tagoodidea.You’vejustleapedoffthebridge!
Andit’salongwaydown.Oooh.Thathurt.
Youhaveafifty-fiftychanceofsurvivingthatfall.
Rememberwhatpageyou’reon—PAGE32.Thentossthisbookupintheair.
Ifitlandswiththefrontcoverfacingup,turntoPAGE105.
Ifitlandswiththecoverfacedown,turntoPAGE69.
Luckily,everythinginyourgrandma’ssmalltowniswithinbikingdistance.Twentyminuteslater,you’vebikedovertoMacMacFarling’soffice.Whichhappenstobelocatedinhisgarage.
Youknockonthesidedoorofthegarage.
“Comein!”avoicecalls.Youyankopenthedoor.
Wow!youthinkwhenyouseehim.
MacMacFarlinghasfrizzy,kinkyblondhairstickingoutalloverhishead.He’swearingsixearrings,anosering,andapairofheavyblack-framedglasseswithbluelensesinthem.He’sabout20yearsold.
Sothat’swhyyourgrandmadidn’tlikehim.
He’scool!
“What’sup?”MacFarlingasks.“Youlooklikeyou’vejustseenaghost.”Helaughs.“Sorry.Justalittleghost-huntinghumor.”
YouexplainaboutElvira,andthatshetoldyoutheghostsaregoingtotakeoveryourgrandmother’shouse.
“I’vebeenexpectingthis,”MacFarlingsays,shakinghishead.“Itriedtowarnyourgrandmother.”
“Canyouhelpus?”youplead.Hiseyesarehiddenbehindthebluelenses.Youcan’ttellwhathe’sthinking.
WillMacMacFarlinghelpyou?
FindoutonPAGE37.
YourunovertoMelvinEstep’sgraveandplungeyourswordintotheground.
Andwait.
Nothinghappens.
Doesthatmeanyou’veactuallydoneit?Didyouputanendtothecurseofthecreepingcoffins?
Youstepbackfromthegrave,leavingtheswordstandingstraightupfromthedirt.Youtakeadeepbreath.Coulditreallyallbeover?
Suddenly,oneoftheothertwocoffins—oneoftheotherEsteps!—startstomove!
Oh,no!YouchosethewrongEstep!
It’sallover,allright.AlloverforYOU!
Beforeyourastonishedeyes,theheadstonecreepsacrossthegraveyard.Withinseconds,itreachesthethirdrow.Whentheheadstonestopscreeping,thewordDIEiscomplete.
Andsoisyouradventureinthisbook.Complete.Finished.Done.Asin…
THEEND
P.S.Here’sahint.Nexttimeyoutrytodefeatthecreepingcoffins,askElviraforhelp.Don’tleavesomuchtochance!
“Help!”Robinscreamsastheknifedriftstowardhim.
Oh,no!Rightbesidethefloatingknifeistheghost-boy.
Yougrabthebaseballbatandtakeaswing.
Thebatgoesrightthroughtheghost’ssee-throughbody.Helaughsasifyoutickledhim.
Unfortunately,thebatcomesouttheothersideofhimandsmashesrightintoRobin’sdesklamp.
Oooops.
Thelampfliesoffthedeskandsmashesontothefloor.
“Whatwasthat?”awoman’svoicecallsfromthehallway.
Uh-oh.Robin’smomisontheway.
TurntoPAGE75.
YouhearaboomingCRACK!Inthenextinstant,theghostofBrandonEsteprisesupoutofhisgrave.
IshetheMPG?HaveyouchosentherightEstep?
YoupeeratBrandonashefloatstowardyou.He’sayoungguywearingablackleathermotorcyclejacket.Withheavymetalspikesandchains.Andametalhand.
Ametalhand?
Achillofterrorrunsthroughyou.Thismustbehim.TheMostPowerfulGhost.Theghostwiththeironhand.
Youraisethefoilagain.Buttheghostlungesatyou—andgrabsyourarmwithhisironhand.
Yourarmfreezes.Youcan’tmove!
Foramoment,youpanic.ThenyourememberwhatMacFarlingtoldyou.ThedateofSarah’sdeath.It’smagic,somehow.
DidyouwritedownthedatelikeMacFarlingtoldyou?Good.Thenfindthedateandaddupallfourdigitsintheyear.What’sthenewnumber?Well,that’syournextpagenumber.Turntothatpage.
Youdon’trememberthedate?TurntoPAGE96andchooseoneoftheSarahs.Addupthedigitsintheyearofherdeathandturntothatpage.
Suddenly,MacFarlingswingsintogear.Hepicksupastrangeelectronicboxandheadsforthedoor.“Comeon,”hesays.“We’vegottohurry.Let’sgo!”
Finally—someonewhocanhelpyou!Youfeelbetteralready.
MacFarlingjumpsintohiscar—anoldVWBug.Youhoponyourbike.Asyouridetoyourgrandmother’shouse,hedrivesalongbesideyou.Herollsdownthewindowandtalkstoyouthewholetime.
“Havethegravestonesbeenmovingaround?”heasks.
“Yes!”youexclaim.So,you’renotcrazy!“Whyaretheydoingthat?”
“I’mnotsure,”hesays.“I’veonlyseenitoncebefore.ButIthinkthey’removingintopositiontospelloutsomekindofmessage—orcurse.”
Gravescanspell?Thatdoesn’tsoundpossible.Butyou’rereadytobelieveanythingnow.“Howcanwestopthem?”youaskMac.
“Itwon’tbeeasy,”hetellsyou.
Youwereafraidofthat.
TurntoPAGE45.
Forgetthis,youdecide.Diggeristoomuchofajerk.You’dratherfacetheghostalone.
Youclimbdowntheladderandstarttoheadbackhome.Prettysoon,yourealizethatsomeoneiswalkingbesideyou.Youcanhearhisfootsteps.Youcanfeeltheairmoving,wherehe’sswinginghisarm.Youjustcan’tseehim.
Itmustbetheghost!
“Leavemealone!”youshoutathim,althoughyoucan’tseeathing.
“Heh,heh,”helaughsunderhisbreath.“You’llnevergetawayfromme.”
Oh,yeah?youthink.We’llseeaboutthat.
TrytolosethisguyonPAGE79.
OUCH.
Youlandfacedownatthebottomofthesteps.
Goodthingitwasn’talongflightofstairs.You’reonlybruisedandscratched.Youscrapedyourchin,butnothing’sbroken.
“Ha,ha,ha!”youhearaboy’svoicesay.
Youturntowardthevoice.Youwanttoseethejerkwhomadeyoutrip.
Hey—waitaminute.
Thereisnojerkbehindyou.Youblinktobesure.
Yup.You’resure.
There’sabsolutelynoonestandingatthetopofthestairs!Oranywhereelse!
TurntoPAGE44.
Youstarttopanic.Thecoffinfeels—crowded.Youtrytositup,butyoubumpyourhead.Ouch.
Uh-oh.Wasthat…somethingmoving?
Whatisit?youwonder.Yourheartraces.Snakes?Worms?Rats?
Somethingbumpsyourknee.Youstartbangingonthecoffinlid,tryingtogetout.
“Hey—holdstill,”avoicesays.
Slowly,theghost-boybeginstomaterialize.Heissqueezedinbesideyou.Thecoffinissocrowdednow,youcanhardlymove.
“Takemyhand,”theghost-boysays.“Timetocontinuethejourney.”
Youstareattheghost’soutstretchedhand.
Ifyoutaketheghost-boy’shand,gotoPAGE82.
Ifyoudon’t,turntoPAGE98.
Yourstomachturnsatthesightofherbloodyneck.Thenyounoticetheghost’sbodyisstillhoveringbelowyou.Itfloatsupthestepsandsomehowattachestoherhead.
“Thankyou,”shesaysonceshe’sinonepiece.Shehandsyouherfoil.“IamtheKeeperoftheSword.Takethis—anduseitasyouwill.NowImustreturntomygrave.”
YourememberMacMacFarling’sinstructions.“Wait!”youcall.“What’syourname?”
“Sarah,”shewhispersasherformfadesaway.
Thenshe’sgone.
YouruntothephoneanddialMacFarling’snumber.Whenheanswers,youtellhimyou’vegotthesword.
“Good,”MacFarlingsays.“Listencarefully.Findhergraveinthegraveyard.Writedowntheyearofherdeath.It’saspecialnumber.You’llneedit.ThenplungeherswordintothegraveoftheMPG.That’stheonlywaytokeepthegravesfromspellingoutthecurse.”
“ButhowdoIfindtheMPG?”youask.
“Oops,”MacFarlingsays.“Callwaiting.Gottogo!”
Hehangsup.Callwaiting?youthink.Whataliar!Hejustdoesn’tknowhowtohelpyoufindtheMPG.Nowwhat?
Ifyougotothegraveyard,turntoPAGE96.
IfyouthinktheMPGwillcometoyou,turntoPAGE125.
Aghostfillsthedoorway.Butthisghostisn’tjustafilmyversionofalivehumanbeing.Thisghostisn’tlikeElviraMartin.
Thisghostishideous!Hiswholefaceisgrayish-blue.Histongueandeyesbulgeout.Helooksasifhediedwhilebeingchoked.Thenhisblueishhandsreachoutforyou.
Thatdoesit.Nowayareyoustayinginthiscreepyhauntedhouseforanotherminute!
Yourunbackdownstairstoyourgrandmother.Youbeg.Youplead.Youcry.Thenyoupullouteverytrickinthebook.Eventheonewhereyoufakeahighfeverbyputtingthethermometeronalightbulb.
Eventually,yourgrandmothergivesin.Shecallsyourparents.Theycutshorttheirvacation,comepickyouup,andtakeyouhome.They’reprettysteamedatyou.Butyoudon’tcare.Atleastyou’vegottenawayfromthathauntedhouse!
Youflopdownonthebedinyourroom.That’swhenyoufeelsomethingpokingyou.Somethinginyourbed!
Yousitupandstareatyourblanket.
It’sslidingaroundonthebed—allbyitself!
SlideovertoPAGE61.
Youturnandrunoutoftheroom,leavingElvirasnoringpeacefullyinyourbed.
Youheadbacktothegraveyard.You’regoingtohavetotakeachanceononeoftheEstepboys.Andfast!Beforethegravesmoveagain.
Onlyoneletterleftbeforethecurseiscomplete.That’swhatkeepsgoingthroughyourhead.
Whenyoureachthegraveyardyouarealmostoutofbreathfromrunningupanddownthestairssomanytimes.Butthesightthatgreetsyounearlytakesyourbreathawaycompletely.Youthinkyoumightfaint.
Thegraveyardisfilledwithghosts!Horribleghosts.Oneofthem—anoldmanwithlong,stringyhair—carriesanax.Awomansobs.Aheadwithoutabodypasses,thenabodywithoutahead.Eachghostisworsethanthelast!
Thenyourememberthefencingfoilinyourhands.Youraisetheswordtofendthemoff.Itworks.Theyfloatallaroundthegraveyard,buttheydon’tcomenearyou.
YourunstraightfortheEstepgraves.
Butwhichone?MelvinIIorBrandon?
You’vegottochoose.
IfyoupickMelvinEstepII,turntoPAGE27.
IfyoupickBrandonEstep,turntoPAGE47.
“Ha,ha,”theboy’svoicetauntsagain.
“Gotcha!”agirl’svoicejoinsin.
Rightinfrontofyouramazedeyes,aboyandagirlslowlybegintomaterialize.
Whentheyfinallytakeshape,youcanseethatthey’reteenagers.Butteenagersfromalongtimeago.Theboyisdressedinafunny-lookingblacksuitwithafrillywhiteshirtandshinyblackshoes.Thegirliswearingalong,old-fashionedwhitelinendress.Herhairisbraidedandthebraidsarewrappedaroundherheadthreetimes.
Theboyandgirllookalmostsolid—butnotquite.Youcanseerightthroughthem.
“Boo!”theyshoutatthesametime.Thentheydoubleoverwithhystericallaughter.
Yourheartisstillpoundingwildly.
Isthisreallyhappening?Orareyoudreaming?
There’sonewaytofindout.Pinchyourself.
Ifithurts,turntoPAGE53.
Ifitdoesn’t,turntoPAGE60.
“First,”MacFarlingexplains,“you’llhavetofighttheKeeperoftheSword.That’soneoftheghosts.Youneedtogetthespecialsword—anduseittostoptheMPG.”
“What’stheMPG?”youask.
“TheMostPowerfulGhost,”MacFarlingsays.“It’satermforthespiritwhohascontroloveragraveyard.”
“Onceyouhavethesword,”Maccontinues,“youmustplungeitintothegraveoftheMPG.Butyou’vegottohurry!Becausewhenallthegraveshavemovedintopositionandspelloutthemessage—it’llbetoolate!Thecursewillbecomplete.Andafterthat,you’llneverbeabletogettheghostsbackintotheirgraves.”
YourheadisspinningfromwhatMacjusttoldyou.Butyounodasifyouunderstand.
You’vearrivedatyourgrandmother’shouse.MacFarlingstopshiscarandhopsout.Yougetoffyourbikeandparkit.MacFarlingfacesyourgrandmother’shouseandswitchesonthefunkyelectronicboxhe’scarrying.Reddialslightup.Thenyouhearaloudbeepingsound.
“Uh-oh,”MacFarlingsays.“Majortrouble.Givemeadollar.”
IfyougiveMacFarlingadollar,turntoPAGE57.
Ifyourefusetogivehimmoney,turntoPAGE74.
TheknifefloatstowardyouandRobin.Quickly,yougrabtheneedlepointpillow.Youholditinfrontofyoulikeashield.
Areyoucrazy?You’regoingtousethatpillow?TheoneRobin’smotherlovinglyneedlepointedforhim?Theonethattookherseventy-fourhoursoffinger-achingworktocomplete?You’reusingittoblockanattackfromaflyingknife?
Oh,dear.We’retalkingseriousbadjudgmenthere.
Thepillow,ofcourse,isrippedtoshreds.Butthat’sjustthebeginning.Justthefirstofmanybaddecisionsyoumakeinyourlife.Forinstance:
Afewweekslater,you’reatapicnic.Youdropablueberrymuffinontoabigredanthill.Thefireantsswarmalloverthemuffin.Youdecidetopickitupandeatitanyway.
Yourmothergivesyouahundreddollarsforyourbirthday.Abeggarasksyouforaquarter,butyoudon’thaveanychange.Youtearoffapieceofthehundred-dollarbillandgiveittohiminstead.
Whenyougrowup,youwinaTVgameshow.Theprizeisanewcar!Butthecarisblue,andyouhatethecolor.Soyousay“Nothanks,”andgiveitback.
Seetheproblem?Ofcoursenoneofthiswillhappen—ifyoucanlearnhowtochoosemorecarefully.
GotoPAGE100andchooseagain.
YoucrossyourfingersanddecidetotakeachanceonBrandonEstep.Yourunovertohistombstoneandstandinfrontofit.
Youholdtheswordinbothhandslikeadagger,withthepointdown.Yourhandstremblesomuchyou’reafraidyou’lldropthesword.Youtightenyourgripandtakeadeepbreath.
ThenyouraisetheswordaboveBrandon’sgraveandpreparetoplungeitintotheground.
Butsomethingstopsyou.
Whathappened?FindoutonPAGE36.
Timeisrunningout.Thatlastcoffincouldcreepintoplacebeforeyouevencrossovertoagrave!Thenitwillbeallover.Foryouandyourgrandmother.
Youaretooterrifiedtothink.
Soyoudecidetoguess.
Well…whatareyouwaitingfor?Goaheadandguess.
WhichoneistheMostPowerfulGhost?
MelvinEstep?MelvinEstepII?OrBrandonEstep?
IfyoupickMelvinEstep,turntoPAGE34.
IfyoupickMelvinEstepII,turntoPAGE27.
IfyoupickBrandonEstep,turntoPAGE47.
YoufollowElviratoyourroomonthesecondfloor.Themomentyoustepintothebedroom,sheslamsthedoor.
Thenshewhirlsaroundtofaceyou.Hereyesturngreenandbegintoglow.
Youbackup,stumbling,andfallontothebed.
“Youlittlewretch,”shesays.“Idon’twantanytroublefromyou!”Sparksseemtoflyfromherflashinggreeneyes.Youshrinkbackintothepillows.
ThenElviragazesaroundtheroom.“Yes,yes,”shesays.“Thiswilldonicely.”
“Wh-whatdoyoumean?”youstammer.
Elvirafloatstowardthebed.Shehoversoveryou.“I’mtakingoverthisroom,now,”shetellsyou.“Getout!”
Youwouldlovetoleave,butyouareshakingtoohardtogetup.Besides,youhavetofindoutwhat’sgoingon!Elviraistheonlyonewhocanexplainittoyou.
“Please,”youbeg,“justtellmewhyyouarehere.Andwhyarethegravesmoving?”
“Shutup!”shescreeches.“Andgetoffthatbed.Iwanttoliedown!Ihaven’tsleptinabedinfifty-oneyears!”
Uh-oh,yourealize.Youaren’tjustdealingwithaghosthere.You’redealingwithaghostinaverybadmood!
You’dbetterdowhatshesaysonPAGE72.
Thenextday,youandRobinmeetrightafterbreakfast.Theghostshowsupanhourlater.Rightontime.
“Okay,”theghostsays.“Here’sthedeal.Iwantyoutoeataplatefulofworms.”
“Areyoukidding?”Robinblurtsout.
“Nope,”theghostsays.“You’vegottoeatworms.Stayhere.I’llgetthem.”
Theghost’sbodysuddenlyformsintoafunnelshapeanddisappearsintothegroundinRobin’sfrontyard.Helookslikeahumantornadovanishingintotheearth.
Whenhezoomsbackup,theghosthasahandfulofworms.
HewalksovertoRobin’sfrontporch.Sittingonthestepsisasmallplate.
“Eatthese,”theghostsays,dumpingthewormsontheplate.
“Yuck!”Robinsays.“Noway!”
“Ifyoudon’t,”theghostsays,“I’llhauntyoufortherestofyourlife.Likethis.”Theghostmakeshimselfintoanairytornadoagain.Butthistime,thefunnelflowsintoRobin’shead.Itgoesinoneear—andouttheother!
“Yeow!”Robinscreams.“Okay!Okay!I’lleatthem!”
TurntoPAGE109.
Youstareattheglowingghostlyface.Yourmouthdropsopenasthefacerisesoutofthemoosehead.Thewoman’sfacefloatsupandhangsinmidair,rightinfrontofyou.
“Thankyou,”theheadsays.“Youhavereleasedmefrommytrap.”
Hereyesarelargeandbrightblue.Herrubylipsshimmerinthedarkness.Herlongblackhairhangsdown,fallingbelowherneck.
Herneck?Youglanceatit—andtrynottoscream.
Tornfleshdanglesfromthebottomofherneck.Blooddripsfromtheraggededges.
Suddenlyyourealizewhatyou’reseeing.Itlooksasifherheadhasbeenchoppedoff!
Trynottofaint.TurntoPAGE41.
“Okay,”yousaytotheghost.“I’lldoanything.Justhelpus!”
“Good,”theghost-boyanswers.
Aninstantlater,youhearLarkgoflyingtothefloor.
“Yeow!”Larkyellsashehitstherughard.
YouandRobinstoprunning.Youturnandlaugh.
“Quitsnickering,youlittletwerps,”Larksnarlsasheclamberstohisfeet.“You’redeadmeat.”
HecomestowardyouandRobin,onehandclenchedinafist.Theghost-boywinks,andtherugfliesoutfromunderLark.Hesprawlsontheflooragain.
YouandRobinlaughsohardyoudoubleover.
Fortherestofthenight,everytimeLarkoroneofhisbuddiestriestocomeafteryou,theghostpullsaprank.Nothingbig.NothingthatwouldmakeLarksuspectanything.Justenoughtokeeptheguysfrombotheringyou.
YouandRobinsleepverypeacefullythatnight.
Thenextmorning,whenyougethome,theghostisinyourroom,waitingforyou.“Okay,”theghostsays.“Timetokeepyourpromise.Let’sgo.”
Go?Gowhere?
FindoutonPAGE84.
Nodoubtaboutit.Youaredefinitelyawake.Thisisreallyhappening.Whichmeansyouareface-to-facewithtwoteenageghosts.
Youstandupandbrushyourselfoff.
“Whoareyou?”youask,tryingnottoletyourvoicetremble.“Whatdoyouwant?Whatareyoudoinghere?”
“I’mJaneLuckmeyer,”thegirlghostsays.“Andthisismydearlybelovedtwinbrother,John.”
Johnbowsdeeply.Thenhesticksouthistongue.
“Oh,John,”Janecries.“Thiswillbesomuchfun!”
“Yes,dearsister,”Johnanswers.“Wehaven’thadanyonetotormentinages.”
“Aneternity!”Janeagrees.“ButI’vespentthetimethinkingofevermorehorribletricksandtortures.”
Youdon’tlikethesoundofthat!Couldthesetwocreepshavesomethingtodowiththecreepingcoffins?
“Tellmesomething,”yousay,hopingyousoundcasual.“Whyhavethecoffinsbeenmovingaround?”
Butthetwinsdon’tansweryou.Instead,theycacklehorriblyandgrinatyou.
GoontoPAGE66.
Youstarttoswingtherope,hopingtolassothewildghoststallion.
Areyoukidding?
Doyouknowhowlongittakestolearnhowtolasso?
Andyoudon’tevenhavethatropetiedintherightkindofknot,doyou?
Admitit.Unlessyou’vegrownuponaduderanchorwithintwohundredmilesofapackofwildstallions,youdon’thaveaflatchanceoflassoingthiscrazedanimal.
So…
IfyouwereborninColorado,Montana,orWyoming,turntoPAGE58.
Ifyouwerebornanywhereelse,turntoPAGE94.
Youraceacrossthelawnandoverthehilltothesmallbarn.Youswingopenthedoor.
Instantly,morethanfortychickensflapdownoutoftheraftersatyou!Feathersflyeverywhere.
“Aaaaa-choooo!”Thefeatherstickleyournose.Theygetinyourmouth.Youswipeatthedownytufts.
Thecluckingissoloudyoucoveryourears.Thenyoucoveryourhead.“Aaaaaahhhh!”youscream.Thechickensareswoopingtowardyourhair.
Huh?
Whyaretheyswoopingtowardyourhair?You’veheardthatbatswillflyatpeopleandgettangledintheirhair.Butchickens?
There’sdefinitelysomethingweirdgoingonwiththesebirds.
TurntoPAGE97.
Youdecidetoaskyourworstenemytohelpyou.
DiggerSukowski.
That’sthefirstnamethatpopsintoyourheadwhenyouthinkabouthowtodealwiththisghost.
Diggerisasixth-graderwholivesafewblocksaway.He’sabullyandajerk,andyoucan’tthinkofanyonemeanerortougher.Perfect.
“Uh,waitrighthere,”youtelltheghost.
YoudashoutofthehouseandrunallthewaytoDigger’sbackyard.That’swhereDiggerandhisfriendshavebuiltatreehouse.
Theladderleadinguptothetreehousehasasignonit.
NOTRESPASSERS.THISMEANSYOU.CLIMBTHISLADDERATYOUROWNRISK!
Youswallowhardandputyourfootontheladder.
KeepclimbingonPAGE70.
YoureluctantlyhandMacFarlingadollarbill.
Hefoldsthedollarinhalftwice.Thenhejamsitintoatinyslotofhiselectronicbox.Aminutelater,thebeepingstops.Theboxspitsthedollarbackout.
“Thanks,”MacFarlingsays.“Thespiritcounterwasjammed.”Hegivesthedollarbacktoyou.
Weird,youthink.Butitseemstohaveworked.
Then,MacFarlingstaresatthereddialsonhismachine.
“Badnews,kid,”MacFarlingsaysfinally.“Bymycount,therearetenghostsinthehousealready.That’swayovermylimit.You’reonyourown.”
Hestartsbacktowardhiscar.
“Wait!”youcallafterhim.“Youcan’tleavemehere!Please!Youhavetohelpme!”
MacFarlinghesitatesforaminute.Thenheshrugs.“Okay,”hesays.“ThisiswhatI’mwillingtodo.I’llhelpyoumakeamapofthegraveyard.Comeon.”
Amapofthegraveyard?Whatfor?youwonder.
Butyoudon’taskquestions.YoujustfollowMacintothecemeteryanddowhathetellsyou.Anhourlater,you’vegotadrawingofthefirstfourrowsofgravestones.
Toseethemap,turntoPAGE127.
Whoosh!Theropesnapsthroughtheairwithaswish!ItfluttersoverGlory’shead.Theghost-stallionrearsupwithanangrywhinny.Youflickyourwristandgivetheropeasharpyank.Bingo!Youdidit.
Talkaboutheavy-dutylassoing!
Glorysnortsandstampshishooves,nearlyliftingyouofftheground.Butyouhangon.Usingallyourstrength,youdragtheghost-horsedownthestairs.Youpullhimintotheden,whereyourgrandmotheriswatchingtelevision.
“Grandma!Look!”youshout.“I’veropedaghost-horse!”
Yourgrandmothergazesupfromhertelevisionprogramandgivesyouawarmsmile.Thensheeyestheghost-horse.
“Now,don’texpectmetofallforthat,”shesays.“Iknowallaboutthegizmosyoukidshavethesedays.Whatisthat?Somekindofhologram?Orvideogame?See,I’mup-to-date.”
Hologram?Videogame?Isshenuts?
Withatwinkleinhereye,yourgrandmotherreachesfortheTVremotecontrol—andaimsitatthehorse.
Shepushesabutton.
Showersofsparksshootoutoftheremote.AcrackingBOOMshakesthehouse.
Whathasyourgrandmotherdone?
FindoutonPAGE9.
“Noway,”yousay.“I’mnotmakingadealwithaghost!”
“Fine,”theghost-boysays.“You’reonyourown!”Hevanishes.
Maybethiswasn’tsuchagreatidea.
Larkandhisfriendscatchupwithyoueasily.Whathappensnextisn’tpretty.BythetimeLarkandhisfriendsaredone,youandRobinareamess.
You’relyinginthedampgrassinRobin’sfrontyard.You’rebruisedfrombeingtackled.YourT-shirtandjeansaregrass-stained.Yourhairisatanglednest.Larkusedbothsetsofknucklestogiveyou“noogies.”
“Oooh,”Robinfumes.“Icouldstranglehim!”
“No,youcouldn’t,”youreply.“You’renotbigenough.Infact,hestrangledus.”
“True,”Robinadmits.“Butwe’vegottodosomethingtogetbackathim.Iwishthatghostwouldcomeback.Maybehecouldscarethelivingbazookasoutofmystupidbrother.”
NosoonerhasRobinsaidthewordswhentheghostappears.
“Yourang?”theghostsayswithaslysmile.
TurntoPAGE22.
Youdidn’tfeelthat?
Uh-oh.Pinchagain.
Nothing?
You’veobviouslyfallenasleepwhilereadingthisbook!You’vegonebye-bye.Todreamland.You’reprobablysnoring,too.
Thethingis,inyourdreamsyou’llprobablybeabletohandletheseghosts.
Butinreallife?Well…that’sadifferentstory.
Sogoahead.Snoozeon.Enjoyit.
We’llseehowwellyousurvive—whenyouwakeup!
Whenyouwakeup,turntoPAGE53.
Yourheartracesasyouscootawayfromthemovingblanket.Youpressyourbackupagainstthewall.Somethingbumpsintoyourfoot.Thenyourknee.
“OW!”Somethinginvisiblepinchedyou!
Littlebylittle,the“something”beginstoappear.
Atfirst,it’sonlyaghostlyhead.Theheadofaboy.He’sabouttwelveyearsoldandhe’sgrinningatyou.
“Surprise,”hesaysashisbody,arms,andlegsbegintomaterializeinfrontofyou.Helooksalmostsolid—butnotquite.
“Whoareyou?Where…wheredidyoucomefrom?”youfinallyblurtout.
“Wouldn’tyouliketoknow?”hesays.Thenhefloatsovertothewindowandgesturestowardyourfamily’scarinthedriveway.“Bumpyride,wasn’tit?”hesayswithalaugh.
Bumpyride?Oh,no!Hehitchedaridewithyoufromyourgrandmother’shouse!
You’vegottodosomethingtogetridofthisghost.
Butwhat?
Andwho’sgoingtohelpyou?
Ifyouchooseyourbestfriendtohelpyou,turntoPAGE73.
Ifyouchooseyourworstenemytohelpyou,turntoPAGE56.
“Okay,”youtellher.“I’llfindyourhead.Waithere.”
Butwhereshouldyoulook?
Youdashupthestairstotheattic.It’stheonlyroomyouhaven’tbeeninsinceyouarrived.Andyoudefinitelywouldhavenoticedaheadifyou’dseenone.
Yourummagearoundintheattic.Yousearchthrougheverything.Twice.Trunksofoldclothes.Pilesofoldfurniture.Golfclubs.Noghost-head.
Youglancearoundthedustyroom.Think!Theremaynotbemuchtimeleft.IfIwereaghost-head,wherewouldIbe?youaskyourself.Yousuddenlyspotalargemooseheadsittingonthefloorbyabrokenchair.
Youkneeldowntoexaminethemoth-eatenmoosehead.Upclose,itlooksevenworse.Theantlersarecrackedandoneeyeismissing.Itisfilthyandhasamustyodor.
It’snotevenhuman.Butwhatchoicedoyouhave?
It’stheonlyheadhere!
Besides—you’reinabighurry.You’vegottogettheswordbeforethecoffinscreepagain!
Yougrabthemooseheadandracedownstairs.
YouonlyhopetheKeeperoftheSwordwon’tbefuriouswhensheseestheheadyoubroughther!
CrossyourfingersforluckandturntoPAGE80.
Nodeal,youdecide.You’renotgoingtomakeabargainwithaghost.
Youwouldn’tevenmakeadeallikethatwithyourmom.Promisetodo“whatever”shewants?Youmightenduprakingleavesandwashinghercarforayear!
“No,thanks,”youtelltheghost.“Nodeal.Idon’tmakepromisesIcan’tkeep.”
Theghostsmilesatyou.Anicesmile.Forthefirsttimesinceyoumethim,heseemsgenuinelyfriendly.
“That’swhatIwantedtohear,”theghostsays.“Thatyouwouldn’tmakeapromiseunlessyoureallymeanttokeepit.I’vebeenlookingforsomeonehonestlikeyouforalongtime.”
Thentheghostreachesintohispantspocket.Hepullsoutagoldcoin.
“Takethis,”hesays,handingittoyou.“Andpromisemethatyouwillneverspendit.Thecoinwillbringyougoodluckaslongasyouneversellit,spendit,orgiveitaway.Butmakesureyouarenotburiedwiththecoin.Otherwise,yourspiritwillneverrest.Likeme,you’llbeforcedtoroamtheearthlookingforsomeonetogiveitto.”
Youtakethecoinfromhim,andhesighswithrelief.Thentheghost-boyvanishescompletely…andyouneverseehimagain.
THEEND
KeepawayfromtheLuckmeyertwins.Thatshouldbeeasy,noproblem.Twinsareprettyeasytospot.
Thenithitsyou—dotheyalwayssticktogether?Aretheyguysorgirls?Andhowoldarethey?Nowaytoknow.
Hmmmm.Maybethiswillbemoredifficultthanyouthought.
Youslinkintoyourgrandmother’shouse.Youfeelcreepy,knowingtheplaceisloadedwithghosts.AndhowareyougoingtofindtheKeeperoftheSword?Youdon’thaveaclue.Yourheadswimsasyouwanderuptothesecondfloor.
BAM!Adoorbangsopen.Itnearlyhitsyouinthehead.
Youjumpback,andpeerintoahallcloset.
“Don’tgointhere!”avoicebehindyouwarns.
Youwhirlaroundandsee—aghost!Ateenagerfromanothertime.He’sdressedinanold-fashionedblackvelvetsuitwithafrillywhiteshirt.Hishairisslickedbackandcombedneatlybehindhisears.He’ssmiling—butit’sasneakysmile.
Shouldyoulistentohim?
Ifyoustayoutofthecloset,turntoPAGE12.
Ifyouseewhat’sinthecloset,turntoPAGE26.
Youstaredownatthemapofgravestonesinyourhands.Youwonderhowitcanpossiblyhelp.
“Bigtrouble,”Macsays,peeringoveryourshoulder.“Themessageisalreadyalmostcompletelyspelledout.”
“Whatmessage?”youask,puzzled.
“Lookatthesefirstfourrows,”hesays,pointingatthepaper.“Therestofthegravesdon’tmatter.That’swhyIdidn’tputthemonthemap.Takeapenandcirclethefirstletterofthelastnameoneachtombstone.Itspellsoutamessage!Don’tyousee?”
No.Youdon’tsee.Andyouwon’tsee—untilyoudoit.
Sodoit.
TurntothemaponPAGE127.Circlethefirstletterofthelastnameoneachtombstone.Itwillspelloutamessage—orpartofone.
Whenyouhavediscoveredthemessage,turntoPAGE91.
TheLuckmeyertwinsfloatdownthestepstowardyou.Andtheybothhaveanevilglintintheireyes.
Uh-oh.Thesetwospelltrouble.Doubletrouble.
Run!youtellyourself.Butwhichway?
Ifyourunawayfromthem,you’llberunningstraighttowardthegraveyard.
ButyouronlywaybackintothehouseisbygettingpasttheLuckmeyertwinsfirst.They’refloatingcloserandclosertoyou—andJohnishidingsomethingbehindhisback.
Youfreeze.Youcan’tdecidewhattodo.YouknowJohnisuptosomething.Andyouknowyou’dbetternotstickaroundtofindoutwhatitis!Butwhichwayshouldyougo?
Don’tthink!Run!
Ifyouruntowardthegraveyard,turntoPAGE93.
Ifyoutrytoslippastthetwinsandbackintothehouse,turntoPAGE108.
You’retryingtocrawloutfromunderthesink,whenthelightspopbackon.
Amomentlater,Larkandhisbuddieszoomintothekitchen.
“Whatareyoutwojerksdoing?”Larkasks.
“Nothing,”Robinsaysquickly.
“Yeah,nothing,”youchimein.
Larklooksathisfriendsandtheyallnod.Youdon’tlikethewaythey’resmilingatyou.
Uh-oh.
HurrybacktoPAGE6.
Ick!Anothercricketplopsonyourhead.
“Letmeout!”youyellagain,poundingonthedoor.
Immediately,thedoorswingsopen.
Uh-oh.Theghostwasright.Troublehasarrived—inabigway.
It’syourgrandma.Andshe’ssteamingmad.
“Whatinheaven’snameareyouupto?”yourgrandmotherscolds.
Youglancepastherintothekitchenandseewhatshemeans.Thewholeplaceisamess.Flourisscatteredalloverthefloor.Potsandpansarestackedonthechairsandtable.Everysingleitemthatwasintherefrigeratorissittingonthekitchencounter.
“Whatonearthhaveyoudone?”yourgrandmotherdemands,pointingatthehugemess.
Behindherback,youseetheghostlyJohnLuckmeyerwithabiggrinplasteredacrosshissmirkingface.
Quick—whatareyougoingtotellher?
Ifyoudecidetomakeupastory,turntoPAGE71.
Ifyoutellthetruth,turntoPAGE112.
Thebooklandswiththefrontcoverdown.Luckyyou!Yousurvivethefalloffthebridge.Butdon’tkidyourself.You’reprettybruisedandscratchedup.
“Owww…”youmoan,asyoulieontherockybanksoftheriver.
Mistake.Youshouldn’thavemoaned.Nowthesoldierknowswhereyouare!
Inaflash,hejumpsoffthebridgeandtowersoveryou.
“Preparetodie!”heshouts.
Can’tthisguythinkofanythingelsetosay?
Thenhe…well…he…youknow.Hefinishesyouoffwithonethrustofthatbeautiful,mother-of-pearl-handled,sapphire-encrustedsword.
Hey—don’tlooksosurprised.
Wesaidtherewasafifty–fiftychanceofsurvivingthefall.Wedidn’tsayanythingaboutsurvivingthisbook!
THEEND
Youclutchthetree-houseladdersohardyougetasplinter.Theladderisnailedtothesideofthetree.Thereisn’tmuchspaceforyourhandsoryourfeet.Theboardsarewobblyandcrooked.Youdon’tdarelookdown.
Whenyou’rehalfwayuptheladder—toohightojumpdown,butnothighenoughtoliftyourselfontotheplatform—Diggerpopshisheadoutofthetreehouse.Hegivesyouameangrin.
“Hey,”hesaysinanastyvoice.“Lookeewhatwegothere.Atrespasser!”
Thenheleansovertheedgeoftheplatformwithabucketinhishands.Heraisesthebucket,thenturnsitupsidedown.
Directlyoveryourhead.
TurntoPAGE7.
“Uh,Iwastryingtomakedinnerforyou,Grandma,”yousay.Ifyoutoldthetruth,she’dthinkyouwerelying.Thenyou’dbeinevenbiggertrouble.
“Well…”Yourgrandmother’sfacebeginstosoften.
ThenJohnLuckmeyerfloatsovertoyou.Beforeyourealizewhathe’sdoing,Johnpicksuponeofyourgrandmother’sbestchinateacups.Heknocksittothefloor,rightbyyourhand.Theteacuplandswithahorriblecrash.
Oh,no!
Youstarttoopenyourmouthtoexplain.Butthenanotherghostappearsontheothersideofyou.Thisoneisagirl.She’swearinganold-fashioned,longwhitelinendress.Herhairisbraidedandthebraidsarewrappedaroundherheadthreetimes.
“Hello,”shesayswithasnicker.“I’mJaneLuckmeyer.”
Great,youthink.Anotherone.TrappedbetweentheLuckmeyertwins.
ShepicksupthechinasaucerthatgoeswiththeteacupJohnjustsmashed.TheshetossesitlikeaFrisbeeacrosstheroom.Somehowshemakesitlookasifyouthrewit.Thesaucercrash-landsatyourgrandmother’sfeet.
“That’sit,”yourgrandmothersays.“Gotoyourroom!”
TurntoPAGE124.
Youjumpupfromthebed.
Elviraliesdown,neatlyspreadingherwhitesatindressonthecovers.Herlongredhairfansoutacrossthepillow.
“Ahhhh,”shesighs.“Arealbed.”Sheshutshereyes.
Youhopeshedoesn’tsleeptoolong.Youhavesomanyquestionstoask.Andyouhopeshe’llbeinabettermoodwhenshewakesup!
Shedozesforexactlytwominutes.Thenhereyespopopen.Younoticetheyaren’tglowinggreenanymore.
“Ah,”Elvirasays.“That’sbetter.”
Nowthatshe’sawake,you’renotsurehowtobegin.You’realmosttoofreakedouttospeak.Butyouhavetoknow!“Whyarethegravesmoving?”youask.“What’sgoingon?”
“It’sthecurseofthecreepingcoffins,”theghostlywomananswers.“Andwe’removingintothishouse.Allofus.”
Allofus?
Gulp.
Whatdoesthatmean?
RushtoPAGE106.
Youdecideyouneedyourbestfriend’shelp.SoyoucallRobin.Helivesonlytwohousesaway.
Withoutevenagood-byetoyourmomanddad,youzoomoutthefrontdoor.YouruntoRobin’shouseasfastasyoucan.
“Hi!”Robinsays.“Thatwasfast.What’sup?”
“You’renotgoingtobelieveme,”youwarnhim.
“Tryme,”Robinsays,tossingthreejugglingballsintheair.
Robinhasbeentryingtolearntojuggleforsixmonths.Hejustcan’tgetthehangofit.
“Mygrandmother’shouseishaunted,”youexplainquickly.“Thecoffinsinthegraveyardbehindthehousewerecreepingaround.Theghostsescapedfromtheirgraves.And—”youpauseandtakeadeepbreath.“Andoneofthemfollowedmehome.”
Robinstaresatyouasifyou’recrazy.Heletsallthreeballsdroptothefloorwithathud-thud-thud.
“Yeah,sure.Right,”hesayssarcastically.
Amomentlater,allthreejugglingballsriseupfromthefloor.Toyouramazement,theystartjugglingthemselves!
ThenoneofthemfliesrightatRobin—andhitshimintheface!
GotoPAGE101.
Maybeyourgrandmotherwasright.Maybethisguycan’tbetrusted.Maybehe’sascamartist.
“Whatdoyouwantadollarfor?”youaskhim.
Butbeforehecananswer,thefunkyelectronicboxbeepsonemoretime.Realloud.
Thenallofasudden,alidontopflipsopen—andasmallplastichandpopsout!
Cool!youthink.You’veseenthesethingsbefore.
It’sagagbank.Yourunclehadone,buthisuseddimes.Itwasasmallblackplasticboxwithaslotontop,justlikeMacFarling’sgadget.Whenyouputadimeintheslot,alidwouldflyopenandaplastichandwouldpopout.Thehandwouldgrabthedimeandpullitintothebox.Itcrackedyouup.
ButwhyisMacFarlingplayingaroundwithatrickbank?You’resupposedtobehuntingghosts.
“Givemeadollar!”Macscreamsfrantically.
Butbeforeyoucananswerhim,theplastichandreachesfartheroutofthebox—andgrabsyoubythethroat!
Inthenextinstant,itpullsyouintothebox!
Youdon’tthinkyouruncle’sbankworkedlikethis.
Toobadyoudidn’thaveadollarwhenyouneededit!
THEEND
Robin’smomisfuriouswhensheseesthebrokenlamp.
Howfurious?
Let’sjustsayyouandRobinwillbemowinglawnsforalongtimetopayforthelamp.
Butthegoodnewsis,theghostseemstohavevanished!MaybeRobin’smomscaredhimoff.
“Youweren’tkidding,”Robinsays.“Therereallyisaghost!”
“Itriedtotellyou,”yousaytohim.“Listen,canIsleepover?Theghostisprobablybackatmyhouse,justwaitingtogetme!”
“Noproblem,”Robintellsyou.“You’llbealotsaferhere.”
Don’tbetonit.
TurntoPAGE89.
“Wherearewe?”youasktheghost-boy.
“Oh…”hesays.“Youknow.”
No,youthink.Idon’t.
Youpassanelaborategold-framedmirrorhanginginmidair.Youlookatyourreflection.Andgasp!
Yourlegs!Yourarms!They’regone!Youstareatthe“you”inthemirror.Youcanseethefurniturebehindyou—rightthroughyourownbody!
Maybeit’satrickmirror!Youglancedownatyourself.It’snotrick.Yourlegsaretransparent.
Yourheartdropsintoyoursee-throughfeetasyourealizethetruth.You’reaghost,now,too!
Someonesuddenlycallsyourname.Youwhirlaround—andseeyouroldpianoteacher.Mrs.Hatfield.Shewasasweetoldlady,aboutninetyyearsold.Shediedlastyear.Youhavetoadmityouhaven’tmissedhermuch.Youneverlikedtakingpianolessons.
“Oh,thereyouare!”Mrs.Hatfieldexclaims.“Comewithme.Iwantyoutoplaysomescales.”
IfyougowithMrs.Hatfield,turntoPAGE10.
Ifyourefuse,turntoPAGE87.
It’strue.Yourfeethaveturnedtostone.Sohastherestofyou.
Help!youwanttocryout.
Butyoucan’tspeak.Stonelipsdon’tmove.
“Iwarnedyou,”Janesaysquietly.
“Ha,ha,”Johnsays,laughingandpointingatyou.“You’restuck!”Hewagsafingerinyourstonyface.
You’dliketobitehim,butyoucan’t.Youcan’tdoanything.You’reastatue.You’veturnedtosolidstone.
“Seewhathappenswhenyouwalkamongthedead?”Johnsays.“YoushouldhavelistenedtoJane.Don’teverwalkwithadeadpersonintoagraveyard.It’sthemostdangerousthingyoucando.”
Nowtheytellyou!
GoontoPAGE113.Ifyoucan.Goonandtryit.Trytoturnthepage,stony-fingers!
Youpressthemutebutton.Instantly,theNeanderthalmandisappears.
Phew.Closeone,youthink.
Thenyouhaveanidea.Youpressthemutebuttonagain.Yup.Itworksjustasyouthoughtitwould.TheghostoftheNeanderthalreappears.Andwhenyoupressitagain,hedisappears.Youcankeepswitchingbackandforth.
Nowyouseehim—nowyoudon’t!
Needlesstosay,thisisacooltoy.Youandyourgrandmotherplaywithitforafewdays.Thenyoucallthelocalnewspapers.Theycomeoutandwriteastoryaboutyou.Prettysoon,you’refamous.EverycomputergamecompanyinAmericaandJapanwantstobuyyourinvention.
Theamazingremote-controlledhologrammachine!
Youtellthemthetruth.Youhavenoideahowitworks.Butfortenmilliondollars,theycanhavetheremoteandthehouse.Andtheycantrytofigureitoutforthemselves.
Whenthedealismade,youleavetheremoteandthehousebehind.Butthereisstillonemore“remote”inyourfuture.AremoteislandintheSouthPacific!That’swhereyouandyourgrandmotherflyoffto.Why?Justincasethecompanyfiguresoutyou’vesoldthemahousefullofghosts!
THEEND
Youtakeoffrunning.Topspeed.
Youdashdownthestreetandzoomaroundthecorner.Then,asfastasyoucan,youduckintoadrugstore.
Maybetheghostdidn’tnoticewhereyouwent.
Youhope.
Thedrugstoreownerglancesupasyoucomein.“MayIhelpyou?”heasks.
“No,”yousay.“I’mjustlooking.”
Youheadovertothemagazinestandinthebackofthestore.It’stallandyou’rehopingtheghostwon’tseeyoubehindit.Youspendabouttwentyminutesbrowsingthroughthecomics.
Whenyouthinkthecoastisclear,youstarttoleave.
“Holditrightthere,”thedrugstoreownersays.Hecomesoutfrombehindthecounterandgrabsyourarm.“I’mcallingthecopsonyou!”
Huh?Sincewhenisreadingcomicsagainstthelaw?
FindoutonPAGE119.
“Ifoundthehead!”youcalloutwhenyoureachthelanding.Youclutchthemoosenervously.Youpeerintothedarkness,tryingtofindtheheadlessghost.
Thewoman’sbodymaterializesonthestepsbelowyou.
“Good,”hervoicesays.Youstillcan’tfigureouthowshecantalk.“Justsetitdownrightthere—onthestairs.”
Really?youthink.Thisisgoingtowork?Maybetheghosthasn’tseenthemoosehead,yet.Whatwillshedowhenshediscoverswhatyou’vedone?
Trembling,yousetthemooseheaddownonthebottomstep.Youholdyourbreath.
Foramoment,nothinghappens.
Thenthemooseheadbeginstoshake.Atfirstitjustrocksbackandforthalittle.Butsoonitstartstovibratewildly.
Themooseheadbeginstoglow,asiftherewerealightinsideit.Thenaghostlywoman’sfaceappearsinsidethemoosehead!Youcan’tbelieveit!Butthereitis—thefaceofabeautifulyoungwomantrappedwithinthedustyoldmoosehead.
WOW!Youdidit!Youactuallyfoundherhead!
TurntoPAGE51.
“Okay,”youtelltheghost.“It’sadeal.”
“Good,”theboysayswithastrangesmile.
“Butyou’vegottoreallyscareLark,”Robinwarns,pointingafingerattheghost.
“Noproblem,”theghostanswers.“Waithere.”
YouandRobinstandonthefrontlawninthemoonlight.Youwatchtheghostashefloatsintothehouse—rightthroughthewall!Afewminuteslater,thescreamingstarts.
“Aaaaaah!Hellllpp!Aaaaaahhhhh!Noooooooo!”youhearLarkandhisfriendscryingfrominside.Theysoundasifthey’reface-to-facewithsheerterror.Scaredoutoftheirminds.
Robinisreallyhappy.Butasthescreamingcontinues,youstarttoworry.“Youdon’tthinkhe’sreallyhurtingthemoranything,doyou?”youask.
“Idon’tknow,”Robinsays.“Maybeweshouldgointhereandstophim.”
“Yeah,”yousay,swallowinghard.
Thetwoofyoustarttowardthefrontdoor.Butjustthenthescreamsstop.
Theghostfloatsoutthroughthefrontdoor.
“Okay,”hesays.“I’mdone.Seeyoutomorrowatten.”
TurntoPAGE50.
Youtaketheghost-boy’shand.
Assoonasyoutouchhim,achillrunsthroughyou.Hishandfeelslikeice.
“Holdon,”hesays.“Herewego!”
Beforeyouknowwhat’shappening,hestartstomoveaway—floatingsideways.Histhin,transparentbodyisfloatingrightthroughthecoffin—andhe’stakingyouwithhim!
BOOM!
Insideyourhead,youhearthesoundoffireworks.Youcloseyoureyesandseefireworks,too!Atthesametime,youfeelyourbodybeingpulledthroughthecoffinwalls.
Whenthefireworksstop,youslowlyopenyoureyes.
Youinstantlywishyouhadn’t.
Youarelyingonadirtfloor.Overyourheadisadirtceiling.Thecave-likeroomisfilledwithaneeriegreenlight.Stairwaysleadingnowherearecoveredinplushcarpeting.Cobwebsdripfromfurniture.Laughsandmoansechoallaroundyou.
Buttheworstnewsis—youaresurroundedbyghosts.That’sright,youareinanundergroundworldoflivingdeadpeople.Allofthemfloatingaround.Somedance,someplaygames,somewanderaimlessly.Butallofthemare,well,dead.
TurntoPAGE76.
Thelightsareout.Allthelights.Andyou’rescaredtodeath.Youcan’tmove.
YoustandtherefrozeninRobin’skitchen,inthedark.
“Comeon,”Robinsays,grabbingyourarm.“We’dbettergetoutofhere.Lark’scoming!”
“No,”youtrytosay.Butyoucan’tevenspeak.Yourheartispoundingtoohard.Yourlegsarelockedstiff.
Robintriestodragyououtofthekitchen.Butyourhandgripsthekitchencounter.
“Oh,okay,”Robinsays.“We’llhideunderthesink.”
Quickly,hesquatsdownandopensthetwocabinetdoorsthatleadtothespaceunderthekitchensink.Hestartstocrawlin.
Goodidea,youthink.Let’shidefromthedark!
Huh?
No.Itdoesn’tmakeanysense.Butyou’resoscared,youdon’tknowwhatyou’redoing!
Soyousquatdownandcrawlintothecrampedspacewithallthedrainpipesandstuff.
That’swhenyouseethem.Twosmalleyes—glowingatyouinthedark!
TurntoPAGE128.
“Whereareyougoing?”youasktheghost-boy.“Andwhat’syourname?”
“You’llsee,”heanswers.
“I’llsee?I’llseewhatyournameis?”youask.
“Sure.It’sonmygravestone,”theghostreplies.
Acoldmistswirlsaroundtheghost-boy,makingyoushiver.Younoticetheghost’seyeshaveturnedhard.He’snotsofriendly,now.
Youreallyregretmakingthatpromise.
“Let’sgo,”heorders,leadingtheway.
Youhavenochoice.You’veseenthisghostinaction.Ifyoudon’tdowhathesays,he’llprobablyhauntandtormentyoufortherestofyourlife.
Youfollowhimtoanoldgraveyard.Thisone’sonthefarsideoftown.Attheedgeofthegraveyard,theghoststops.Heputsouthishandtokeepyoufromtakinganotherstep.
“Waithere,untilIreachmytombstone,”hetellsyou.“Whenyouseemedisappear,standontopofmygrave.”
Hmmm.Soundscreepy.Areyougoingtodoit?
Ifyes,turntoPAGE90.
Ifno,turntoPAGE110.
Youdecidetofindoutwhoismakingallthenoiseintheattic.
Youglancearoundforsomethingtouseasaweapon.
Let’ssee.Yourgrandmotherhasdoilies.Arockingchair.Pillows.Notmuchtochoosefrom.Finallyyoupickupapieceofropethatyourmomusedtotieyoursuitcaseclosed.Youhavenoideahowapieceofropecouldhelp,butit’sallyou’vegot.
Thepoundingofheavyfeetoveryourheadmakesyouwonderifyou’remakingamistake.Butyouhavetofindoutwho—orwhat!—isintheattic.Slowly,youclimbthestairs.Dustfromtheatticstepsstirsintheairandmakesyousneeze.
“Ah-choo!”yousayloudly.
Allatonce,thestompingstops.
Thedoortotheatticbangsopen.
“NO!”Youscreamwhenyouseewhat’sstandingatthetopofthestairs.
GotoPAGE92.
MacFarlingnevertoldyouwhattodoaboutanironhand!
“Help!”youscream.“HELP!”
Butwhocanhelpyouinagraveyard?
Youtrytoyankthemetalhandoffyourarm.Butyoucan’tdoit.Itsgripistoostrong.
“Help!”youcryagain.Butyourscreamdiesinyourthroat.Youaretooterrifiedtomakeasound.Becausethehandismoving!
Theironfistcreepsalongyourarm.Itclutchesyourfleshsohardyoucanalreadyfeelthebruises.Theglintingmetalhandtravelsuptoyourthroat.Horrified,youwatchhelplesslyastheironfingersopenwithaclankingsoundandthensnaparoundyourneck.It’sstranglingyou!You’vegottodosomethingfast!
TurntoPAGE116.
Noway.You’renotgoingtopracticeyourpianonow.
“No,thanks,”youtellMrs.Hatfield.“Ineverlikedpianolessons.AndnowthatI’maghost,I’mnevergoingtopracticeagain!”
Mrs.Hatfieldlooksaroundattheotherghosts.Theyallsmileandnod.Thenshebreaksintoahugegrin.
“Good!”Mrs.Hatfieldsays.“Youpassedthetest!”
“Whattest?”youask,feelingconfused.
“Youneverwereanygoodonthatpiano,”shesays.“Infact,youweresimplyterrible.Ijustwantedtobesureyoudidn’twasteanymoretimewithit.Theworldhasenoughbadmusicians.Itdoesn’tneedanotherone.”
Hmmph!youthink.Butyouknowshe’sright.
“Okay,”Mrs.Hatfieldsays,motioningtotheghost-boy.“Youcantakethisoneback.”
Beforeyouknowwhat’shappening,theghost-boypullsyourhandagain.Thistime,hedragsyoutowardthemirror—andrightintoit.Youcloseyoureyes,andonceagainyouhearfireworks.Buthalfwaythroughthejourney,heletsgoofyourhand.Whenyouopenyoureyes,youarestandingallaloneinthecemetery.Andyouknowyouhavefinallycometo
THEEND.
YougointothehousetolookforJohnLuckmeyer.Afterall,youthinkhemightbetheKeeperoftheSword.
Areyouserious?
Luckmeyer?Youthinkhemightholdthemostpowerfulsword?TheswordthatcandestroytheMPG?Anddidn’tMacFarlingwarnyoutostayawayfromthatpracticaljoker?
Uh-oh.Ifyouthinkthat,youmayhaveaseriousproblem.
Takethistesttofindout:
THREETRUE-OR-FALSEQUESTIONSTODETERMINEIFSOMEONEISCRAZY
1.)Spinachisanalienlifeformandshouldthereforeneverbeeatenfordinner.TRUEorFALSE?
2.)ThecharactersinyourfavoriteTVprogramsactuallyliveinyourtelevisionset.TRUEorFALSE?
3.)ThemarshmallowcropwasruinedthisyearbyaterriblefreezeinFlorida.TRUEorFALSE?
Foryourscore,turntoPAGE117.
Sofareverythingseemsnormal.Justlikealltheothertimesyou’vespentthenightatRobin’s.Infact,youandRobinarehavingagreattime.EvenRobin’solderbrotherLarkislessobnoxiousthanusual.
Yeah,RobinandLark.Robin’slastnameisBirdsey.Hisparentslikecutestufflikethat.
Larkishavingasleepoverparty.Hisfriendsareineighthgrade.Theythinkthey’rewaycool.Andtheyare.Untilnineo’clock.Whensuddenlyallthelightsinthehousegoout.
“Hey!”LarkyellsatyouandRobin.“Quitplayingwiththecircuitbreakers,youlittletwerps.Orelse!”
Uh-oh.
Youdidn’ttouchthecircuitbreakers.NeitherdidRobin.Andhisparentsaren’thome.
Who’sleft?
That’sright—theghost.
Andallthelightsareout.
Whatnow?
Ifyou’reafraidofthedark,turntoPAGE83.
Ifyou’reokayinapitch-blackhouse,turntoPAGE19.
Youdoastheghostsays.Youwaitattheedgeofthegraveyarduntilhestopsatagrave.Thenyouwatchashiswholeairybodyseemstodisappearintotheground!
Okay,youthink.Thisisit.Timetowalkoverthereandstandonthatgrave.
Yougulploudly.Youscratchyourhead.Youburp.
Hey—enoughstalling.Getoverthere!
Yourlegstrembleasyouwalktothegraveandpeerattheheadstone.Then,stillshaking,youstandonthegrave.ThetombstonesaysJAMEST.
REDDSONIII.1875–1910.
Hmmm.Youdosomequickmath,andrealizethisguywasthirty-fivewhenhedied.Thiscan’tbethekid’sgrave,yourealize.Heliedtoyou!
Beforeyoucanfigureoutwhatyoushoulddo,youhearaterriblerumbling.Youflingoutyourarms,tryingdesperatelytokeepyourbalanceasthegroundbeginstoshake.Theearthallaroundyourisesandrollsinwaves.Youreyesopenwideasyouwatchthegroundbeneathyourfeetbreakapart.
Getmeoutofhere,youthink.Butyou’retoolate.
Ahand—theghost-boy’shand!—suddenlypopsupoutofthedirtandgrabsyourankle!
GoontoPAGE115.
“Oh,no!”yougasp.
Youstareatthemap—andatthemessagespelledoutonthegravestones.
YOUWILLDISOON.
Sothat’stheterriblemessagethegravesaremovingaroundtospell.Andisthe“you”you?Oristhecursedirectedatyourgrandma?Eitherway,it’ssuperbadnews!
“Mac,”yousay.“There’sonlyonelettermissing!Onlyonemorecoffinhastocreepintoplaceandthen…”
“Thenthecursewillbecomplete,”Macsays.Heturnsandwalksbacktohiscar.
“Wait!”youcallafterhim.
Hestops,butonlylongenoughtopulloutabusinesscard.“Here,”hesays.“CallmeafteryoudefeattheKeeperoftheSword.ThenI’lltellyouwhattodonext.”
ThenhejumpsbackinhisVWBug,leavingyoustandinginfrontofyourgrandmother’shouse.“Oh,”hecallsashestartstodriveoff.“Twothingstoremember.BesuretofindoutthenameoftheKeeperoftheSword.AndstayawayfromtheLuckmeyertwins!”
TheLuckmeyertwins?youthink.
Ifyou’vemettheLuckmeyertwinsalready,turntoPAGE8.
Ifyouhaven’tmetthem,turntoPAGE64.
Youcan’tbelieveyoureyes.
Atthetopoftheatticstairsisaghosthorse!Ahuge,wildstallion,withitsmaneflyingbehindit.Foamdripsfromthestallion’smouth.Itseyesarewildwithfury.
Thehorsebacksupastep,thenrearsupandletsoutaterrible,angrycry.Itshoovescrashdown,clompingloudlyontheatticfloor.
Waitaminute,youthink.Wasthereahorseburiedinthecemetery?
Thenyouremember.Anextra-largegrave,withaheadstonethatread:
HERELIESGLORY.TOOWILDFORTHERIDERSOFTHISWORLD.
Nokidding,youthink.Thishorselookslikeakiller!
Quick.You’regoingtobetrampled—unlessyoudosomething.
Butwhat?
IfyoujumponGloryandridehim,turntoPAGE126.
Ifyouusetheropetolassohim,turntoPAGE54.
Youturnonyourheelsandrunasfastasyoucan—straighttowardthegraveyard!
“Hey!”Janecallstoyou.“Don’tgointhere!”
Oh,sure,youthink.Shejustdoesn’twantyoutoescape!Youkeeprunning.
Buttheminuteyoucrossthepropertyline—fromyourgrandmother’syardintothecemetery—aterriblechillrunsdownyourspine.
Yourwholebodyfeelsasifithasturnedtoice.Orstone.Youstoprunningandbegintomoveveryslowly.
“Iamwalkingamongthedead,”youhearyourselfsayinaflatvoice.WhydidIsaythat?youwonder.
“Youarewalkingamongthedead,”Johnsaysrightbehindyou.HeandJanefloataroundthegraveyard.
“Iamaprisonerofthegraves,”youhearyourselfsay.
“Youareaprisonerofthegraves.”JohnandJanerepeatyourwordstogether.
Youtakeafewmoresteps.Yourlegsaresostiff,youcanbarelymove.
Youlookdownatyourfeet—andscream.
“Aaahhh!”youmoan.“Myfeethaveturnedtostone!”
GoontoPAGE77.
Okay.Soyou’renotanatural-borncowboy.
You’rejustakidwithadumbropeinyourhands—andafoaming-at-the-mouthhorseabouttotrampleyouonthestairs.
Youwavetheropeatthehorse,usingitlikeawimpywhip.Youfeelsostupid,you’resurprisedthehorsedoesn’tstartlaughing.
Butsomeonedoeslaugh!Youturnaroundandseeaghostlycowboyfloatingyourway.
“WorstattemptI’veeverseen,”thecowboysays.Youstareathimwithyourmouthopen.Hetakestheropefromyou.
“YouwanttolassoGlory,you’regonnaneedsomelessonsfromanexpert.Me!”Thecowboygivestheropeasharpyankand,FLICK,itlandsaroundthestallion’sneck.
“Cool!”youcheer.“Canyoushowmehowtodothat?”
“Surething,pardner,”thecowboyanswers.“Nowhere’swhatyouhavetodo.”
Forthenexthourtheghost-cowboyteachesyouallaboutlassoing.
Whenyouthinkyou’reready,trytolassoGloryallbyyourselfonPAGE58.
“Robin,”youwhisper,“Ihatetotellyouthis,butwe’rehidingunderthesinkwithaLanx.”
“Awhat?”Robinasks.
“ALanx!ALanx!”Youarepracticallyshouting.“It’slikeaGrool,butworse!”
Robinstaresatyou.Thenheshakeshishead.“Youaregettingtooweird.Evenforme.”
“Itlookslikeapotato,”youcontinue,“butithasreallysharpteeth!”YouhavetomakeRobinbelieveyou!Youareinterribledanger.
“That’sit,”Robinsays.Hepopsopenthecabinetdoor.“Fun’sover.Youknow,”headdsashecrawlsoutfromunderthesink,“Ididn’treallybelieveyourghoststory,either.Iwasjustplayingalong.”
YougazesadlyatRobinasheheadsoutofthekitchen.Youhaveafeelingyou’vejustlostyourbestfriend.
“Hehhehheh,”youhearbehindyou.
Youglancebackattheglowingeyes.Theylookevenbrighterthanbefore.
Youthoughtbeingfollowedhomebyaghostwasaproblem.WaituntilyoutrylivingwithaLanx!
“Hehhehheh.”
THEEND
Youraceouttothegraveyard.You’vegottofindthefencingwoman’sgrave—fast!Thenithitsyou.Youonlyknowherfirstname.Sarah.
Sarahwho?
Yourunupanddowntherowsoftombstones,searchingforagravemarkedSarah.Naturally,youfindtwo.
OneisSarahGrayson.Bornin1820.Diedin1895.
TheotherisSarahMcGinnis.Born1918.Died1940.
It’suptoyou.WhichistherightSarah?
Thinkverycarefully.
Thenpickone.
Youbalancetheswordunderonearmandfeelaroundinyourpockets.Youpullabrokenpencilfromyourjeans.Youglancedownandfindacrumpledgumwrapperontheground.YougrabitandwithshakingfingersyouwritedowntheyearofSarah’sdeath.
Andhopeyouchosecorrectly!
HaveyouwrittendownthedateofSarah’sdeath?Good.Becausesomethingterrifyingishappeningbehindyou.Youreallydon’twanttokeepyourbackturned.SoputdownyourpencilandturntoPAGE114.Ifyoudare…
“Getawayfromme!”youshout.Youduckandtwist,tryingtoavoidthedivingchickens.Theysquawkandflaptheirwings.Onebirdlandsonyourshoulder.Itsclawsdigintoyourclothes.
“Hey!”youyellatit.Youtryshakingitoff,butitclingstoyou.Younoticetheotherchickenshoveringnearby.
Youreachuptograbthestupidbirdbutsomethingstopsyou.Coulditbe?Isthechickensmilingatyou?
Youpeercloselyatthebird.
Uh-oh.
Thatchickenisn’tsmiling,it’sbaringitsteeth.
Butchickensdon’thaveteeth.Andtheysuredon’thavefangs.
That’sright.Fangs.Guesswhat?Thesearen’tordinarychickens.Thesearevampirechickens.Andthebirdonyourshoulderisleaningcloser.Andcloser.Andcloser.
CHOMP!
Beingbittenbyavampirechickenputsyouinafowlmood.Oh,well.Betterclucknexttime.
THEEND
“No,”youtelltheghost.“I’vekeptmypromise.Andlookwhereitgotme!”
“Suityourself,”theghost-boysays.Hevanishes.
So,nowwhatareyougoingtodo,huh?Justliethereinthecoffinandrot?
That’sonechoice.
Gotanyotherideas?
Okay,sure.Youcouldstartscreamingatthetopofyourlungs.Maybe—justmaybe—someonewillhearyou.
Likewho?
Likethecemeterycaretaker.Heshowsuponceaweek.OnFridays.
Well?Whatdayisthis?
IfyouarereadingthisonFriday,turntoPAGE13.
IfyouarenotreadingthisonFriday,turntoPAGE107.
Youdecidetoduelwiththewomaninthefencingcostume.She’snotasbigasthesoldier.
“Engarde,yourself!”youcry.Younoticethatassoonasyoushoutedatthewoman,thesoldier-ghostvanished.
Thefencerglidestowardyou,approachingslowly.Youfeelarounddesperatelyforsomethingyoucanuseasaweapon.Thewholetimeyoukeepyoureyesgluedtothesharptipofhersword.Orrather,herfoil.That’swhatafencingswordiscalled.
Thefencerkeepscomingtowardyou,slowly…slowly.Beadsofsweatbreakoutalongyourupperlip.Thetipofthefoilwaversslightly,asifthefencerweredecidingontheperfectspottostabyou.
Finallyyourfingersgraspsomethingleaningagainstthewall.Anumbrella.It’snotmuch.Butit’llhavetodo.
Yougrabitandstrikeafencingpose.
“Engarde!”youshoutagain.
Thefencerfreezes,herfoilraised.
Theninaflash,shelungesatyou!
Quick!Findoutifyou’restillaliveonPAGE122.
Youjumpback,tryingtomakeroomforRobin.He’sbackingupfasterthanapizzadeliveryguywho’smissedtheaddress.
Buttheknifekeepscominganyway.
Quick—youhavetodosomethingtohelphim!
Youspotabaseballbatinthecorneroftheroom.
Hmm.Goodchoice.Ifyouhavegoodaim.
Butthere’salsoahugeneedlepointpillowonRobin’sbed.Onethathismothermadeforhim.Maybeyoushoulduseitasashield.
Chooseyourweapon.
Ifyouusethebaseballbat,turntoPAGE35.
Ifyouusethepillowasashield,turntoPAGE46.
“Ow!”Robincriesout.Hishandfliesuptohischeek,wherethejugglingballhithim.
Yourmouthfallsopen.Thisisterrible.Theghostmusthavefollowedyoudownthestreet!
“Whydidyoudothat?”Robinyells.“Thatreallyhurt!”
“ButIdidn’tdoit!”youreply.“Itwasthatghost!”
Robinstaresatthejugglingballs.They’rejustlyingonthefloornow.Theghostisnowhereinsight.
“Yeah,right,”Robinsays.“LikeI’mreallygoingtobelieveinghosts.Comeon,howdidyoudothat?”
Beforeyoucananswer,there’saknockonRobin’sbedroomdoor.Hewalksoverandopensit.
“Yikes!”hescreams.
Floatinginthedoorway,inmidair,isalongsharpcarvingknife.
Andit’spointedrightatRobin’sheart!
Robinisbackingupfast,soyou’dbettermoveback,too.BacktoPAGE100.
Usingthebackdooryouquietlyslipintothehouse.Thenyousneakupthebackstaircasetothesecondfloor.Youpeekaroundthecornercarefully—youdon’twanttorunintotheLuckmeyers.Whenyouaresurethecoastisclear,youstartupthestairstowardtheattic.
Assoonasyoustepintothestairway,youseeahugesoldierstandingatthetopofthethirdfloorlanding!
Hisuniformisold-fashioned.CivilWar,youguess.Andjudgingfromthemedalspinnedtohisgrayjacket,thisguyknowswhathe’sdoing.
Andwhathe’sdoingrightnowispullingaswordfromitsholder.
Theswordisaboutfivefeetlong.Thehandleismother-of-pearl,encrustedwithsapphires.Thebladegleams.Eveninthedarknessyoucanseethatit’sdangerouslysharp.
Theenormoussoldierpointstheswordatyourheart.“Donotadvanceonemorestep—unlessyouarewillingtodie!”hebooms.
GoontoPAGE104.
“Gethim,Sparkle!”youshout.
Thehideousghostfloatstowardyou.Thewormswrigglethroughhismattedhair.Thisguyisgross!
“Woof!”Sparklebarksrightintheghost’sdisgustingface.
Nothinghappens.
“Uh,again,Sparkle!”youcommand.ButSparkletuckshistailbetweenhislegs,whimpers,andslinksaway.
“Sparkle,comeback,”youcall.Butit’snouse.That’soneterrifiedmutt.Youturntofacethewormyghost.
Theghostbringshisfacerightnexttoyours.Thewormswigglefromtheghosttoyou.Theycrawlinyourmouth,upyournose,inyourears.
Isitpossibletodiefrombeingtotallygrossedout?
Well,evenifitisn’t,thewormsmakeitimpossibleforyoutobreathe.Makingthis
THEEND.
Youcan’ttakeyoureyesoffthesword.Thelongeryoustareatit,themoreyourlegsshake.
Thenitdawnsonyou.ThissoldiermustbetheKeeperoftheSword!
Sowhatareyougoingtodo?Runandhide?
Definitely!
Tremblinginfear,youstarttobackup.That’swhenyoufeelasharppointstickingyouintheback.Rightbetweenyourshoulderblades.
“Ouch!”youcryout,turningaround.
Bigtrouble.Behindyouisanotherghost.Andthisone’sdressedinafencingcostume.Whitecanvaspants.Awiremeshmask.Leathergloves.
“Engarde!”thenewghostsays.Thevoiceechoesallaroundyou.Fromthevoice,youknowthisghostisawoman.
Thenyourealizesomething.Shehasasword,too!
Twoghosts.Twoswords.Bothdangerous.Butonlyonehastheswordyouneed.
Whichone?
IfyouthinkthefenceristheKeeperoftheSword,turntoPAGE99.
Ifyouthinkit’sthesoldier,turntoPAGE118.
Thebooklandedwiththefrontcoverfaceup.Thatmeansyoudon’tsurvivethefallfromthebridge.
Sorry.
Sonowyouareaghost,roamingtheneighborhood,hauntingeveryoneinsight.Andforawhile,scaringpeopleisfun.
Butsoonyougettiredofpeoplescreamingwheneveryouappear.Andsomepeoplecan’tevenseeyou.Forsomereason,noteveryoneisabletoseeghosts.
YoubegintounderstandwhytheLuckmeyertwinsplayedpranksandpracticaljokes.It’sagoof!
Soyoustartdoingit,too—playingtricksonpeople.Youmovetheircoffeecupswhilethey’renotlooking.Youraisetheirwindowsrightafterthey’veclosedthem.Youwrinkletheirclotheswhilethey’reironingthem.Youstealkeypiecesfromjigsawpuzzleswhenpeoplearen’tlooking.
Thenoneday,yougotoofar—youdosomethingreallyevil.YougothroughaGIVEYOURSELFGOOSEBUMPSbookwithablackfeltmarkerandcrossoffallthepagenumbers!
Theonlyproblemis,itwasthisbook.Theonlyoneyou’rein.
Whichiswhy,sadtosay,thisisreallyandtruly…
THEEND.
“Wha-whatdoyoumean,allofyou?”youmanagetostammer.
“Youasktoomanyquestions!”Uh-oh.Elvira’seyesflashgreenagain.“Don’tgetinourwayandmaybewewillletyoulive.”
Shesoarsupoveryourheadandglaresdownatyou.“Anddon’tyougotalkingtothatghost-hunterMacFarling,either!”Elviraadds.
Inthenextinstant,shefloatsbackwardanddisappearsintothewall.
MacFarling?Aghost-hunter?
Youarestartledbyloudclumpingfootstepsaboveyou.Youglanceupattheceiling.Thelightfixtureisshaking.Itsoundsasifawholecrowdwearingclunkybootsisstompingaroundintheattic.
Whocoulditbe?
IfyouwanttofindoutaboutMacFarling,turntoPAGE16.
Ifyouwanttofindoutwho’sintheattic,turntoPAGE85.
Okay,timetofacefacts.TodayisnotFriday.Thecaretakerisnotgoingtoshowupforalongtime.
Andguesswhatelse?Ifhedidshowup,heprobablywouldn’thearyouscreaminganyway.Afterall,you’resixfeetunderground.
Lookslikeyou’rerunningoutofchoices.Maybeyou’dbettergotakethecold,coldhandofthatghost-boyafterall.
TurntoPAGE82.
Yourunupthesteps,dartingsidewaystogetpastJohn.
Buthegrabsyouwithonehand.Whoa!Forasee-throughguy,Johnisstrong!Inhisotherhandhedanglesaghostlysnakebeforeyoureyes.
YIKES!Thesnakehissesinyourface.Itsfangsdripghostlypoison.
JohnandJanelaughatyourterrifiedexpression.Johnshovesthehissingsnakeintoyourfaceagain.Itstonguedartsinandoutbetweenitsrazor-sharpfangs.
Canaghostsnakehurtyou?ThepainwhereJohnisclutchingyourarmmakesyouthinkitprobablycan!
Youswallowhardandlurchawayfromhim.Luckily,heandJanedon’ttrytofollow.
Withayank,youpullopenyourgrandmother’skitchendoor.
YIKES,AGAIN!Thatotherghost—Elvira—isstandingrightthere!
“Soyoucameback,”shesnarls.“Youmayregretthat!”
Sheturnsandfloatsintothehall.Thenshefloatsupthestairs.
Towardyourroom.
FollowhertoPAGE49.
Robinpicksupawormfromtheplate.Hestaresatit.Justasheopenshismouthtotakeabite,youhearsomeonesnickering.
Youglancearound.
Thebushesseemtobemoving.
Quickly,youinchovertowardthesound.
“He’seatingit!”youhearavoicewhisper.AvoicethatsoundsexactlylikeRobin’sbrother,Lark.“Ha,ha.Thelittletwerp!Ihopehechokes!”
“Yeah,”anothervoicesays.“Thatwasacooldealwemadewiththeghost.Pretendingtoscreamforanhour.Andthenhepromisedtomakeyourbrothereatwormsthenextday.”
Oh,no!yourealize.You’vebeentricked!
GoontoPAGE130.
Youdecidenottofollowtheghostintothecemetery.
WhyshouldI?youthink.JustbecauseIpromisedhimIwould?
Youfeelalittleguiltyaboutbreakingyourpromise.
Butassoonastheghostdisappearsintothegrave,youturnandrunasfastasyoucan.Allthewaybackhome.
Andyouknowwhathappensnext?
Nothing.
That’sright.Nothing.Andyouneverseeanotherghostagain,aslongasyoulive.
Yearslater,youtellyourchildrenallaboutyourgrandmother’shauntedhouse.Abouthowaghostfollowedyouhome.Andhauntedyourbestfriend’sbrother’sparty.Andyoupromisedtofollowhimintothegraveyardthenextday,butdidn’tdoit.
Yourchildrenthinkyou’remakingitup,ofcourse.Butyouknowthetruth.
Becauseeverytimeyouwalkpastagraveyard,youhearvoicescallingyou.Accusingyou.Thevoicesoftheghost-boyandallhisghostfriends.“Yooooooou,”theycall.“Yoooooulied!”
THEEND
Youpressthebuttontochangethechannelagain.
Unfortunately,you’verunoutofchannels.EvenwithDIRECTV,asatellitedish,andallthecablechannelsintheuniversecombined,youcanonlygosofar.Thenyouhittheendoftheline.
257,000channels—andnothingon.
Sowhenyoupressthebuttonforahigherchannel,nothinghappens.TheNeanderthalmandoesn’tchangeintoanythingelse.
Andyouknowwhatthatmeans.Itmeansyou’vejustbeenhitintheheadwithabiguglyclub!
Ow.Thathurt.Andhe’stakingaimagain!
Oh,well.That’swhatyougetfortryingtosurvivethisuglyepisodebypushingbuttons!
Seriously—didn’titeveroccurtoyoutojustduck?
THEEND
Youdecidetotellyourgrandmotherthetruth.
Waitaminute.Areyoukidding?
You’regoingtotellyourgrandmotherthatherhouseishaunted?Thatthebigmessinthekitchenwasaghoulishprank?ThattherearesomanyghostsaroundthatMacMacFarling,professionalghost-hunter,wouldn’ttakethecase?
You’regoingtotellherallthat?
Oh,REALLY?
Welljusttryit.Gotellyourparents—oryourgrandparents—thesamestory.Seeiftheybelieveyou.
HA!
Whentheygetdonelaughing,youcanstartreadingagainonPAGE71.
Andtrytolearnalittlelessonfromthis:Youshouldalwaystrytotellthetruth.Butsometimesthetruthistoounbelievabletotell.Likeanytimeghostsareinvolved.
That’swhenyouhavetobealittlecreative….
TurntoPAGE71.
Sothereyouare,standinglikeastonestatueinagraveyard.Youprobablythinkthisistheend,don’tyou?
Well,itcouldhavebeen.
Butafewdayslater,thegraveyardcaretakercomesby.Henoticesyou—andrealizesthatyoudon’tbelongthere.Prettysoon,hefiguresouthecouldgetalotofmoneyforastonestatueofakid!
Sohebackshispickuptruckintothecemeteryandloadsyouonit.Thenhedrivesaway.Hesellsyoutoagardenshopthatcarriesstonestatuestoputinpeople’sgardens.
Afewmonthslater,yourgrandmotherwalksintotheshopandseesyoustandingthere.Shecan’tbelievehereyes—astatuethatlooksexactlylikehermissinggrandchild!Shebuysyouandbringsyoubacktoherhouse.
Unfortunately,yourgrandmother’shouseisstillhaunted.Butforsomereason,shehasnevernoticedtheghostsfloatingallaround.
Butyounoticethem.Especiallythetwoghostsyouhatethemost—theLuckmeyertwins!Theyspendtherestofeternityteasingyouandpinchingyourstonenose.Andyoujusthavetostandthereandtakeituntil
THEENDOFTIME.
Youdon’tlikethepricklyfeelinginthebackofyourneck.Youturnaroundslowly—andgasp.
Thecoffinshavemovedagain!
Youcantellbecauseyou’vewanderedtothefrontofthegraveyard.Youarestandingbythefirstrow.TherowthatspelledoutYOUinthecurse.Therowthatusedtohaveonlythreetombstones.
Butnowthefrontrowiscrowdedwithgraves.Sevenofthem.Fourmorecoffinshavecreepedintoplace!
Youglancetowardthebackofthegraveyardandnoticenewemptyspots.It’strue!Thetombstonesarespellingagain!
Yourheartpoundsasyourunalongtherow,readingthefournewnames—tryingtoseewhatthenewinitialswillspellout.
Bannister.Oswald.Thackery.Hamilton.
B…O…T…H.
Oh,no!
NowthemessagereadsYOUBOTHWILLDISOON!
Quick!HurrytoPAGE31.
Theghost-boygripsyouranklesohard,youthinkhemightbreakyourbones.
Youtrytoyankyourlegaway,butit’snouse.Theghost-boywon’tletgo.Andhe’sstrong.Superstrong.
Oh,no!yourealize.He’snotjustholdingontoyourankle.He’spullingyourightintothegroundwithhim!
He’spullingyoudownintothegravebeneathyourfeet!
HangonuntilyougettoPAGE17.
Themetalhandclutchingyourthroatissqueezingthelifeoutofyou.Youdon’thavemuchtimeleft.
Thenyouseeit.Thesword.Ithaslifteditselfoutoftheground—andit’sonceagainfloatinginmidair.Theswordhelpedbefore.Maybeitcanhelpyouagain.
Stretchingyourarmasfarasyoucan,youreachforthesword.Younearlytoppleover,butyoumanagetograbthehandle.Nowthatyouhavethesword,you’renotsurewhattodowithit.Butyouhavetodosomething—thefingersaretightening…tightening….
You’vegottogetsomespacebetweenyourthroatandthemetalfingers!Youbringthesworduptoyourneck.Tryingtoavoidslicingyourownthroat,youjostleandjiggletheswordthroughthefingersofthemetalhand.Finally,thebladepokesupthroughtheironfist.Thetipisjustunderyournose.TheswordisjammedbetweenyourskinandthecoldmetalofBrandonEstep’shand.
Theironhandreleasesyourthroat.Theswordandthehandclattertotheground.It’sover.
Well,maybenot.
Themomenttheswordhitsthedirt,youhearasound.Analmostdeafeningsound.
HoldyourearsandturntoPAGE131.
IfyouansweredTRUEtoanyofthequestionsinthetest,youshouldnotcontinuereadingthisbook.
Closeit—andwaitfortheguysinthewhitecoatstocomeandtakeyouaway.Don’tworry.You’llbefineafteranicelongrest….
Ontheotherhand,ifyouansweredFALSEtoallthetestquestions,theremaybehopeforyou.
Butyou’vegottofacefacts.JohnLuckmeyerisnottheKeeperoftheSword.TheKeeperoftheSwordisamuchscarier,muchmoreterrifyingghost.
TurntoPAGE8,facereality,andchooseagain.
YoudecidetheenormousCivilWarsoldiermustbetheKeeperoftheSword.Youfacehimandthefencing-ghostbehindyouvanishes.
Youcan’tseemtoliftyoureyesfromthesharpbladeofthesoldier’sweapon.“Arey-y-youtheK-KeeperoftheSword?”youaskhim,yourvoicetrembling.
“NO!”hebellows.
Thenhelungesforwardandchargesatyou!
“Aaaaahhh!”youscreaminterror.Youturnandrunforyourlife.Downthestairs.Outthefrontdoor.Intothenight.
Youdon’tlookback.Butyoudon’thaveto.Youcanheartheghostlysoldierbehindyou.Hisheavybootsthudagainsttheground.
Youdashacrossthefrontyard,towardtheroad.Youmanagetoputsomedistancebetweenyouandtheghost.Butthensomethinggrabsyourfoot!
SMACK.Yourhandshitthegravelatthesideoftheroadasyoufallflatonyourface.Youglancedowntoseewhatmadeyoufall.Justagnarledtreeroot.
“Preparetodie!”thesoldiershoutsashestompstowardyou.
Quick!RushtoPAGE24.
“WhatdidIdo?”youaskthestoreowner.
“Youknowperfectlywell,”theownersays.“Shoplifting!”
Thenhereachesaroundbehindyourback—andpullsoutacomicbook!
“Huh?”yousay.“Wheredidthatcomefrom?”
“Don’ttrytokidme,”theownersays.“Icouldseeitplainasday.”Hesmacksyouontheforeheadwiththerolled-upcomicbook.“Didyoureallythinkyou’dgetawaywithtuckingthisintothewaistbandofyourjeans?Itwasn’tevenunderyourshirt!Idon’tknowhowyoubalanceditthatway.Itwashardlytuckedintoyourpantsatall.”
Youaredumbfounded.Speechless.Youdidn’tstealthatcomicbook!Honest!
Butthenyouheartheghostsnickeringinyourear.
“Welcometoyournewcareer,”theghostsays.
Tomakealongstoryshort,theghostfollowsyoutherestofyourlife—gettingyouintotroubleeverystepoftheway.Hetakesmoneyfromyourmother’spurse—andplantsitinyourdresser.Hestealscars—andparkstheminyourdriveway.Everywhereyougo,thingsdisappear.Andpeopleblameyou.
Infact,youprobablydidn’tpayforthisbook,didyou?Well,justforthat,you’refacing…
THEEND.
“IguessBrandon’sghostisfinallyatrest,”yousay.
Yougazearoundyouandseethatthetombstonesareallbackwheretheybelong.Infact,thewholegraveyardlookskindofsleepyandpeaceful.
“Oh,don’tbeagoose,”yourgrandmotherscolds.“Therearenoghosts.Next,you’llbetellingmethattheghostofElmyraMartinistakinganapinyourroom!”
Elvira?You’dforgottenabouther.Butyoufigurewhentheotherghostsreturnedtotheirgraves,Elviradid,too.
Yourgrandmotheryawns.“Comeon,”shesayssleepily.“Thisiswaypastbothourbedtimes.”
Youandyourgrandmothergoinside.Yousaygoodnightandclimbthestairstoyourbedroom.
Whataday!youthink,floppingdownonthesoftbed.
“Watchit!”Afamiliarvoiceechoesthroughtheroom.Alumpunderthecomforterslowlymaterializes.
Elvira!
“Don’thogthecovers,”shesnaps.Sheyankstheblanketunderyousohardyourollrightoutofbed.
You’veheardofbadroommates,butthisisridiculous!Well,you’lljusthavetolearntogetalong.BecauseElviraishereforeternity.Yourdaysofhavingyourownroomhavecometoan
END.
YouandRobinwatchastheghostformshimselfintoafunnel-shapedtornadoagain.
“Uh-oh,”Robinwhisperstoyou.“IfhedoeswhatIthinkhe’sgoingtodo,Iwouldn’twanttobeLark.Ithurts!”
Inthenextinstant,theghostblowshimselfintoLark’shead.Heflowsintooneear—andouttheother.
“Yeow!”Larkscreams.“Okayokayokayokayokay!I’lldoit!”
Robinturnstoyouandslapsyoufive.“Cool!”hesays.
“Notsofast,”theghostsays.“You’vestillgotsomeeatingtodo.”
“Wedo?”yousay.
“Adeal’sadeal,”theghostsays.
Right.
Ah,well.Maybeeatingwormswon’tbesobadin
THEEND.
Thetipofthebladeslicesrightthroughyourneck!
Okay,youcanopenyoureyesnow.Goodnews.You’restillalive.Andyouneverfeltathing.Youknowwhy?
Thefencerisaghost.She’snotsolid.She’sairy.See-through.Andsoisherweapon.
Youpickupyourumbrellaandsliceback.Youlungeforward,pokingyourumbrellarightbetweenherribs.
Butyourumbrellahasthesameeffectonherthatherfoilhasonyou!None.
There’snopointinkeepingupthisduel.Neitherofyoucanwin.Youputdowntheumbrella.
“AreyoutheKeeperoftheSword?”youaskher.
“Yes,”shesays.Shereachesupandpullsoffhermask.
Yougaspandyourstomachturnsover.
Shedoesn’thaveaface.Becauseshedoesn’thaveahead!
“Yes.Thisistheswordyouneed,”shetellsyou.Youwonderwherehervoiceiscomingfrom.“AndIwillgiveittoyou—ifyoucanfindmyhead.”
Isshekidding?Whatarethechances?
Maybeyoushouldjusttrytograbthesword.
Ifyougrabthesword,turntoPAGE21.
Ifyoulookforherhead,turntoPAGE62.
“Iknowwhatyou’rethinking,”Mrs.Hatfieldsays.“You’reafraidyoucan’tgettothegold,nowthatyou’rehere,withus.”
Younod.
“Butdon’tworry,”shesays.“Youdidn’tcomeherethe…theregularway.Soyoucangobacktotheworldofthelivinganytimeyouwant.”
Youreyeslightup.“Ican?”yousay.“How?”
“Oh,it’seasy,”Mrs.Hatfieldsays.“Didn’tyoueverseeTheWizardofOz?”
Huh?
“Youknow,”shegoeson.“Allyouhavetodoisclickyourheelstogetherthreetimesandsay‘There’snoplacelikehome.’Itworkedinthemovie.Itshouldworkhere,too.”
Isshekidding?Well,whathaveyougottolose?
So,yougiveitatry.Youclickyoursneakerstogetherthreetimesandsay,“There’snoplacelikehome.”Whenyouopenyoureyesagain,you’reinyourownbedathome.
Withthemapinyourhand!
Hey.Yourmomalwayssaidthosepianolessonswouldpayoffsomeday,didn’tshe?Lookslikeshewasright!
THEEND
Youhurryintothehallandstartupthestairstowardyourroom.Butsomethingstopsyou.
Aterriblechillintheair.Acoldsocold,youfeelasifitwillfreezeyourbloodandbones.
Aninstantlater,thirteenhowlingghostsappear.Theyfloatoutofthewallsandcometowardyou.Theyareallshapesandsizes,buttheyhaveonethingincommon.
Theyareallterrifying!
NO!youwanttocry.Thiscan’tbehappening!
Yourkneesshakesomuch,youalmostfalldown.Butsomehowyoumanagetorun.Ghostlyarmsreachforyouasyouraceoutthefrontdoor.Intothefrontyard,wheretheskyisgrowingdark.
Forthenexttenminutes,youhuddleunderabigtree,tryingtothink.
Mostly,youjustthinkonething.GETMEOUTOFHERE!
Butyouknowyoucan’tgohome.Yourparentsareawayonvacation.Besides,youcan’tleaveyourgrandmotherhereallalone.Notwiththosecreepingcoffins.
Whichmeansyou’vegottogobackintothathouse.You’vegottogetridoftheghosts.Andyou’vegottofindtheKeeperoftheSword.Beforeit’stoolate!
GoontoPAGE102.
Youdecidetositdownandwait.IftheMPGissopowerful,youthink,thenlethimcometome!
Withthefencingfoilinyourhand,youplopdownonachairinthehall.Sparkle,yourgrandma’smutt,comesandsitsatyourfeet.Youfeelbetterknowingsomeone’sonyourside—evenifitisjustanolddog.
Aloudknockingbeginsinsidethewalls.Amomentlater,aghostfloatsthroughthewalltowardyou.Acreepyghostwithouteyes!
“Ooooo,”hemoanssadly.Hehoverscloser.
Youstandup,andholdoutthefoil.Yourhandstremble.IsthistheMPG?
Sparklejumpstohisfeet,too.“Arrf!Arrf-arf!”thedogbarks.
Theghostinstantlydisappears!
DidSparkledothat?“Hey,Sparkle,”yousay,pattingthedog’shead.“Goodjob!”
Aminutelater,youhearaterriblegroaningsound.Anotherghostappearsinthehall.Thisonehaswormscrawlingalloverhisface!
AlowgrowlbeginsinSparkle’sthroat.
Willitworkagain?WillSparklescareawaytheghost?
FindoutonPAGE103.
Astheghost-horsechargesatyou,yougrabhismaneandpullyourselfontohisback.
Yee-haw!Ride’em,cowboy!
There’sonlyoneproblem.Aninstantlater,thehorseturnsleft.
Andaleftturnfromyourgrandmother’satticstairwaygoesonlyoneplace.Straightthroughthestairwaywall.
Andthenoutside!
Uh-oh.
YougripGlory’smaneeventighterandshutyoureyes.
Okay,youthink.Makessense.Aghost-horsecanridethroughwalls.
Butcanyou?
BAM.
Guessnot.
Andthat’swhy,whenyouopenyoureyesagain,you’restillridingGlory!Youandyourghost-horsechargethroughthemoonlitsky.Asyouwill—foreternity.
Itsaidonhistombstone,Glorywas“toowildfortheridersofthisworld.”Butfaceit,youaren’tofthisworldanymore.Thosedayshavecometoan
END.
TurntoPAGE65.
Youstareintothedarkspaceunderthesink.Thetwosmalleyesstarebackatyou.
There’ssomethingaliveunderthere!
Hey,waitaminute.
Somethingfishyisgoingonhere.
You’reinthewrongGOOSEBUMPSbook!You’reinItCamefromBeneaththeSink!
Andyouhaveaterriblefeelingyouknowwhatisstaringatyouwiththoseglowingeyes.
IfyouthinktheeyesbelongtoaGrool,turntoPAGE132.
IfyouthinktheeyesbelongtoaLanx,turntoPAGE95.
Thistime,theremotecontrolchangestheEgyptianpharaohkingintoaNeanderthalman.Yourecognizehimfromallthesciencebooksatschool.Bighairyguy.Slumpyshoulders.Longarms.Hugewoodenclub.
Hugewoodenclub?
Yup.
Andhe’sswingingitatyourhead!
Thinkfast!
Ifyouchangethechannelagain,turntoPAGE111.
Ifyoutrythemutebutton,turntoPAGE78.
“Stop!”youcryout,runningovertoRobin.“Don’teattheworms!It’sadouble-cross!”
“What?”Robinasks,lookingconfused.Luckilyhewastoogrossedouttotakeafirstbite.
Youexplainwhatyou’veoverheard.“Yourbrother’sinthere!”yousay,pointingtothebushes.“He’strickedus!Hemadeadealwiththeghost.Hepretendedtoscreamlastnight—eventhoughtheghostwasn’tdoinganythingtohim!”
Robinstilllooksconfused.UntilLarkandhisfriendscomeoutlaughing.“Ha,ha,”theysay.“Youhavetoeatwormsbecauseofus.Youtwerpsgotwhatyoudeserved.”
“Whatareyoulaughingabout?”theghostsaystoLark.“Youmadeadeal,too.Iagreedtomakeyourbrothereatworms.Butinreturn,youpromisedtodowhateverIasked.”
“Yeah,”Larksays.“Sowhat?”
“Sonowit’stimetokeepyourpartofthebargain,”theghostsaystoLark.“Andhereitis:Youhavetospendthenightwithadeadrat—inanopengrave!”
“Oh,right,”Larksays.“Andjusthowareyougoingtomakemedothat?”
“Easy,”theghostsayswithasmalllaugh.
TurntoPAGE121.
BONG!BONG!BONG!
Whatisthat?Somekindofclocktower?
BONG…BONG…BONG…BONG…
Thechimesstriketwelvetimes.
Atexactlymidnight,theironhandandtheswordvanish—andyourgrandmotherappearsinthedoorwayofherhouse.
“Why,listentothat!”sheexclaims.“It’stheclocktowerinthechurch.Thatclockhasn’tchimedinyears!”
“Really?”yousay,youreyesgrowingwide.
Yourgrandmothernods.“NotsinceBrandonEstepdied.Hecrashedhismotorcycleinthisgraveyard.Wildboy.Buthelovedthatclocktower.Hehadhelpedhisfatherbuildit.SoeveryonesaidBrandonhauntedthisplace,andthat’swhytheclockwouldn’tchime.Ofcoursethat’salotofnonsense.”
Nonsense?Noway,youthink.
“Theytriedtofixtheclockamilliontimes,”yourgrandmothergoeson.“Butitneverworked.Iwonderwhyitstartedchimingnow?”
You’reprettysureyouknowtheanswertothat.
GotoPAGE120.
“Aaaaah,”youshriek.“It’saGrool!”
“Whatareyoutalkingabout?”Robinwhispers.
“Th-th-thoseeyes,”youstammer.“TheybelongtoanevilGrool!”
Youareinbigtroublenow.TheGroollovestomaketerriblethingshappen.Asifourluckwasn’talreadybad.
“You’recrazy,”Robintellsyou.“Andifyoudon’tshutup,Larkandhisbuddiesaregoingtofindus.”
“YouthoughtIwascrazywhenItoldyouabouttheghost,”youhissatRobin.“Andnowlookatus.”
Robinseesyourpoint.“Okay.”Hesighs.“Let’scheckoutthisGrool.”
YoumoveasidesothatRobincanseetheglowingeyesforhimself.HereachesfortheGrool.
“Don’ttouchit!”youwarnhim.Butit’stoolate.Youcan’twatch.Youshutyoureyes.
“SothisisaGrool!”Robinlaughs.Heholdssomethinginfrontofyourface.Youopenoneeye.Thenyouopentheothereye.
Robinisholdingalittlekitten.
“Oooops,”yousaysheepishly.“Sorry.IguessI’malittlestressed.ThathappenstomewhenImeetghosts.”
GetbackintothestoryonPAGE67.
BEWARE!!DONOTREADTHIS
BOOKFROMBEGINNINGTOEND!
EnterthelaboratoriesoftheevilDr.Eeek.Thesearelabswithexperimentssostrange…soamazing…soterrifying!Therearesuper-smartchimpsandnever-endingmazes.TherearegrowlingGermanshepherdsandmind-bogglingvirtualreality.OnevisitwithDr.Eeek,andscienceclasswillseemlikekindergarten!
Thescaryadventureisallaboutyou.Youdecidewhatwillhappen.Andyoudecidehowterrifyingthescareswillbe.
StartonPAGE1.Thenfollowtheinstructionsatthebottomofeachpage.Youmakethechoices.
Ifyoumaketherightchoices,youwillescapefromDr.Eeek’sdeadlylabsalive.Ifyoumakethewrongchoice…BEWARE!
Sotakealong,deepbreath,crossyourfingers,andturntoPAGE1toGIVEYOURSELFGOOSEBUMPS!
“Howdidyougetinhere?”avoicecallsasyouenterthewaitingroomatEeekLaboratories.“Thatdoorissupposedtobelockedatalltimes.”
YouandyourfriendSamjump.Youdidn’tthinkanyonewasaround.
Thenyouspotthereceptionistsittingbehindatalldesk.She’sashort,frizzy-hairedredheadwearingtoomuchlipstickforherthinlips.Sheglaresatyouasifsheexpectsyoutoturnaroundandleave—assoonasyoufigureoutyou’reinthewrongplace.
“I’mlookingformymom,”youtellher.
“Who’syourmom?”thereceptionistasks.Shestartstopackupherthingstoleave.
Youglanceattheclock.It’salmostfive-thirty—quittingtime.
“She’sthenewlabtechnician,”youexplain.“She’sworkingonsometopsecretexperimentsforEeek.”
“Really?ForDr.Eeek?”Thereceptionistgazesatyoususpiciously.
“Yeah—Iguess,”yousay.
Butreally,you’renotsure.Howcomeyourmomnevermentionedhimbefore?Dr.Eeek?Allsheevertoldyouwasthatshehadanewjobinaresearchlab.Youdidn’tknowtherewasamedicaldoctorinvolved.Doctorsgiveyouthecreeps.
GoontoPAGE2.
“AreyousureyourmomworksforDr.Eeek?”thereceptionistgrillsyou.Sheraisesaneyebrow.
Hereyebrowsgiveyouthecreeps.
Infact,thiswholeplacegivesyouthecreeps.
Fromtheminuteyousteppedofftheelevatoronthenineteenthfloor,therewerenosignsoflife.Nooneintheechoinghall.Nothingbutthecreakingelevatordoor.
AndthenyouspottedthedoortoEeekLabs.Yourmothernevertoldyouaboutthat,either.Thedoorlookedlikethedoortoahugevault!Itwasheavysteel—andaboutsixinchesthick.
Yourbestfriend,Sam,pulledasmallhandleneartheedgeofthedoor.Toyoursurprise,thedoorswungopeneasily.
Okay,youtoldyourself.Sotheplacehasaweirddoor.That’snoreasontofreakout.
“Yeah,sheworkshere,”youtellthereceptionist.“Shedoesresearch.”
“Well,takeaseat,”shereplies.“I’msureyourmomwillberighthere.”Thenshepacksupheroversizedtotebagandwalksout.
Yousearcharoundforachair.Thenyouseethem.Acrosstheroom.Thechairsareallorangeplastic—andthey’reallchainedtogether!
SitdownonPAGE3.
Yousitdowninanorangeplasticchair.ButSamdoesn’t.Hestartsroamingaroundthewaitingroom.
“Sowhatmovieisyourmomgoingtotakeusto?”Samasks.
Youshrug.“Whoknows?Butremember,Sam—wepromisedmymomwewouldn’tacttoowildhere,”youwarnwithagrin.
“Yeah,yeah,”hesays.Likehereallycares.Hewandersovertothereceptionist’sdesk.Hepicksupaglassofclearliquidthat’ssittingthere.
It’sprobablyjustwater,but…
“Hey!”youcry.“Don’tdrinkthat!”
Butbeforeyoucanstophim,hedrinksitdown.Samdrainstheglassinonegulp.
Thenhewhirlsaroundtofaceyou.
“Sam!Imeanit!”youmoan.“Wecan’tfoolaround.Thisisasciencelab.”
Hestartstoanswer,butsuddenlyhisfaceturnswhite.Heclutcheshisthroatandgasps.Thentheveinsonhisneckstarttopopout.Amomentlater,hemakesahideousface—asifhe’sturningintoDr.JekyllandMr.Hyde.
Youfreeze.Yourheartpoundswildly.
“Whatdidyoudrink?”youaskhim.
GoontoPAGE4.
Youraceovertothedesk.YoupickuptheglassSamwasdrinkingfrom.Andsnifftoseeifithasasmell.Nothing.
Samburstsoutlaughing.Hegivesyouadevilishgrin.
“Water,”Samsays,pointingattheglass.“It’sjustwater!”
Youcan’thelplaughing,too.YoulikeSam.He’sfunny.Butsometimesyourbestfriendcangotoofar.He’salwaysplayingcrazyjokesonyou.
Samgazesaround.You’resurehe’stryingtofindsomeothertroubletogetinto.
“Maybeweshouldlookformymom,”yousuggest.
AnythingtokeepSamfromgettingintomoretrouble.
Hiseyeslightup.“Greatidea!”hecries.“Maybewecandoourownexperiments!”
Uh…onsecondthought…
Maybeyoushouldjustsittightandwait!
Ifyousitdownandwaitforyourmom,turntoPAGE11.
Ifyoulookforher,turntoPAGE6.
R.L.Stine’sbooksarereadallovertheworld.Sofar,hisbookshavesoldmorethan300millioncopies,makinghimoneofthemostpopularchildren’sauthorsinhistory.BesidesGoosebumps,R.L.StinehaswrittentheteenseriesFearStreetandthefunnyseriesRottenSchool,aswellastheMostlyGhostlyseries,TheNightmareRoomseries,andthetwo-bookthrillerDangerousGirls.R.L.StinelivesinNewYorkwithhiswife,Jane,andMinnie,hisKingCharlesspaniel.Youcanlearnmoreabouthimatwww.RLStine.com.
GoosebumpsbookseriescreatedbyParachutePress,Inc.
Copyright©1996byScholasticInc.
Allrightsreserved.PublishedbyScholasticInc.,Publisherssince1920.SCHOLASTIC,GOOSEBUMPS,GOOSEBUMPSHORRORLAND,andassociatedlogosare
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Firstedition,August1996
e-ISBN978-0-545-84114-6