The Haunting Hour

  Holding the mirror high, she began to walk slowly through the crowded room.

  “What is she doing?” Jake whispered. “Why is she carrying that mirror around?”

  “Maybe it’s some kind of party game,” I answered.

  The girl held the mirror in front of a pair of ghoulish dancers. From across the room, I could see that the couple made no reflection in the mirror.

  The girl moved on to a longhaired ghoul. She raised the mirror in front of him. “Do we all belong tonight?” she asked in a high singsong voice. “Or will someone reflect?”

  The longhaired ghoul cast no reflection in the mirror.

  I gasped as I realized the dead girl was crossing the room to Jake and me. And suddenly I knew what she was doing.

  It wasn’t a party game—it was a trap!

  Ghouls made no reflection. They were dead. Their bodies didn’t appear in the glass.

  But a living person—someone who didn’t belong at this party—would make a reflection.

  Jake and I were about to be caught!

  I grabbed the door handle and twisted it. The door wouldn’t budge.

  The girl raised the mirror in front of us.

  “Uh…I can explain,” I said. “We didn’t mean any harm. We’ll go now. We—”

  I stared into the mirror.

  And let out a soft cry of surprise.

  No reflection.

  I leaned closer to the glass. No reflection.

  I brought my face an inch from the mirror. I pressed my nose against the glass.

  No reflection. No face staring back at me…

  Jake’s mouth hung open. His eyes bulged as he gaped into the glass. “Wh-where are we?” he said. “Why—?”

  The girl turned, swinging the mirror in front of her. She carried it over to a group of ghouls against the back wall.

  I felt dazed. The room tilted in front of me. I fell back against the door, gasping for breath. “I—I don’t understand,” I muttered.

  I turned to see Ray standing beside us. Standing so close, I could see that his right cheek was ripped open. I could see his cheekbone poking out.

  “Ray—the mirror,” I said. “Jake and I had no reflections.”

  He nodded.

  “But why?” Jake asked. “We’re not dead. We’re alive!”

  Ray scratched his open cheek. “No, you’re not,” he said softly. “I saw you—remember? I saw you get hit by that truck.”

  “NO!” I screamed. “No—you’re WRONG!”

  “You started across the street,” Ray said. “You weren’t watching. You didn’t see it coming down the hill.”

  “NO! NO!” I yelled.

  “It hit you both,” Ray said. “It threw you across the street. You landed right in front of me.”

  “NO!” I screamed. “NO—YOU’RE LYING! YOU’RE LYING!”

  The front door swung open. A blast of cold wind swept in over me. So cold, I thought. From now on, will I feel only cold? Will I never feel warm again?

  My whole body shivered. I turned and saw Jake shivering too. His eyes were shut, his teeth chattering.

  Someone pushed me, hard, away from the doorway. The ghouls were limping, staggering, groaning, making their way out of the house. The dead girl flashed me her crinkly smile as she floated past.

  “Is the party over?” I asked Ray. “Where are they going?”

  “It’s nearly midnight,” he replied, pulling a fat bug from his hair and tossing it to the floor. “It’s time to go outside and dance the Halloween Dance.”

  Ray guided Jake and me outdoors. The full moon floated high in the night sky now. The wind whistled and howled between the crooked gravestones.

  “At midnight on Halloween the dead do their dance under the full moon,” Ray explained, leading us up the graveyard hill. “For one moment—one terrifying moment—we all freeze. And time stops. Time stands still. And then, when we begin to dance, when our circle moves forward, time moves forward once again.”

  He sighed. “It’s a secret moment. The only time during the year when the living and the dead are one.”

  Jake and I joined the others at the top of the hill. The wind blew hard, fluttering the ragged, decayed clothes, making the frail, skeletal ghouls shudder and shake.

  I heard bones rattle, and the snap of toothless, fleshless jaws. We formed a circle and held hands. Bony, cold hands with icicle fingers.

  I’ll never feel warm again. The thought kept repeating in my mind.

  I gazed up at the moon, the pale, cold moon so high above us now. And I had an idea.

  An idea about the Halloween Dance. About time. About the one moment of the year when the living and the dead are together as one.

  My eyes darted around the circle of ghouls. Time will freeze, I thought. When we all freeze, time will stop. And when the ghouls start to dance, time will move once again.

  Well…what if we all dance backward? What if the circle moves counterclockwise? What if we dance to reverse time?

  Could it work? Could we move time back to before the truck accident? Could Jake and I use the Halloween Dance to return us to our lives?

  It was a crazy, desperate idea. But I knew I had to try it.

  No time to explain to Jake. The ghouls were standing stiffly now, gripping bony, frozen hands, locking into place.

  The Dance was about to begin.

  Silence fell over the graveyard hill. A deeper silence than I had ever heard or felt.

  No one moved. The wind stopped. The grass stood straight and still. Not a sound now…not a flicker of a shadow…not a creak of a tree…not a breath.

  Time stopped.

  Midnight on Halloween. And time stopped.

  We were all alive. And we were all dead.

  And then I felt the circle start to move. I heard the hiss of motion. The creak of bones. A breath…a sigh.

  I moved quickly.

  The circle started to the left. But I bumped Jake the other way. I lurched to the right. I pulled the ghoul at my side with me.

  I took a big step to the right. Would the circle follow?

  Yes!

  We were all moving now, moving to a silent rhythm. Moving counterclockwise. Backward!

  To the right. A step. A step. A step.

  And the wind started up again, howling around our strange circle. The trees shifted and creaked. The tall weeds whistled as they whipped low in the wind.

  A step. And another. Another.

  The Halloween Dance.

  The Dance of the Dead. Going in reverse…

  And I could feel it pulling us back, pulling us back through time.

  We were in the abandoned caretaker’s mansion.

  Step…step…step…

  And then we were back down the hill, stopping at the graveyard gate.

  Step…step…step…

  And then…then…

  Jake and I were standing in the light. The bright, hot light that ended our lives.

  Caught in the truck headlights. The light so blinding…and now dimming…darker…darker…

  Moving back…back in time…

  I knew the Dance was working. I knew that each step was leading us back to our lives.

  Round and round I tugged the ghoulish circle. Keep moving. Keep stepping. Got to get back. Got to be alive again!

  And then I could see Jake and me at home at the Halloween party. Surrounded by Madison and her princess pals.

  Yes! Back home! Back home, warm and alive.

  I stopped dancing. I tried to drop the bony hand that held mine. But the ghoul wouldn’t let go. He tightened his grip around my fingers. He pulled me along.

  Step…step…step…

  “Stop,” I cried. “Let me go!”

  The circle moved faster…faster…and then…

  In school. And back at summer camp. And everything moving so quickly now. Step…step…the ghoulish circle turned again….

  Faster…faster…

  In school again. What class was this? Wha
t year?

  I tried to break free. Tried to break the circle. But the ghoul wouldn’t release his icy grip.

  “Wait!” I screamed. “Stop! Stop!”

  And then on the living-room floor. Isn’t that our old house? Before Madison was born and we moved?

  Another step…the circle finally slowing…slowing.

  And I opened my mouth and started to cry.

  “WAAAAAAAH! WAAAAAAAH!”

  Finally, Mommy comes to pick me up. She raises me up over the crib. “What is wrong, Marky?” she asks softly. “Are you well? Do you need to be changed again?”

  “WAAAAAAH.”

  Doesn’t she understand? Doesn’t she know why I’m crying? The Dance went on too long! Too long!

  “What is he crying about?” Daddy says, coming up beside Mommy. He shakes his head and frowns. “What on earth does he have to be unhappy about?”

  Mommy raises me close to her face. “Come on, smile, Marky. It’s a happy day. It’s your first Halloween!”

  The Bad Baby-Sitter

  INTRODUCTION

  ILLUSTRATED BY VINCE NATALE

  One night when I was a kid, a new baby-sitter came to the house. She was young and pretty, and I looked forward to a fun night.

  I was wrong.

  As soon as my parents left, the baby-sitter started telling me frightening stories. She told me about a two-headed kid who went to her school. And about a teacher who died but kept right on teaching.

  She told me about a scientist who kept a living human brain in a fish tank and brought it to parties. And about a boy my age who had fish gills on his neck and could breathe only underwater.

  She told me the stories were all true, and I believed her. By the time I went to bed, I was shaking so hard, I couldn’t sleep!

  I remembered that baby-sitter when I started this story. And I tried to create a baby-sitter even more frightening than the one I had that night.

  I was so glad when Mom told Larry and Maryjo they had to leave. And I could see that my sister, Courtney, was glad too. Yes, they live next door, so Mom says we have to be nice to them. Courtney and I try, but give me a break.

  These kids are oinkers. I’m trying to be polite. But they are total oinkers. Oink oink.

  In my room that day, Larry found a bag of potato chips I had been saving. You should have seen the way he snuffled down the whole bag—with the bag shoved over his face! Then he grinned with the grease shining on his round cheeks and chin.

  And the gross burping noises he made. Come on—we’re twelve years old. Burping hasn’t been funny since we were ten.

  My dog, Muttley, burst in and sniffed out the potato-chip bag Larry had tossed on the floor. Muttley dove for the bag and started chewing it up.

  That big mutt will eat anything. I had to wrestle it from his mouth—and he bit me!

  Ha ha. That made Larry laugh.

  Later I started to show Larry my new PlayStation racing game. “Give me that, Matthew,” he said. He grabbed the controller so hard, he ripped the cord in two.

  Did he say he was sorry? No. He started giggling and rolling on his back. Like it was real funny. Oink oink.

  I could hear my sister arguing with Maryjo down the hall. They fight every time they are together. I don’t know what it was about this time, but I heard Courtney shout, “It’s not nice to call people names, you moron!”

  Sometimes Courtney really loses it when Maryjo is around. She hates Maryjo’s scratchy voice and the way she whines all the time. And she hates the way Maryjo is constantly brushing her long blond hair, brushing, brushing—even at the dinner table.

  So we were glad when Mom herded everyone together. “Sorry to break up the party, guys,” Mom said. “But Larry and Maryjo have to go home now. I’m meeting your dad at the mall. The new baby-sitter will be here any minute.”

  “Can I have something to drink before I leave?” Larry asked. He always has to have a drink before he goes. Like he’ll die of thirst before he gets home.

  “Me too,” his oinky sister whined.

  Mom hurried to get them juice boxes. Then we sent them out into the rain. It was really coming down. I enjoyed slamming the door behind them.

  “Oops, it slipped,” I told Mom.

  Mom squinted at me. “Matthew, that wasn’t nice.”

  “Why do we have to have a baby-sitter?” I asked, changing the subject. “I’m twelve years old. I can take care of myself.”

  “Your sister is only eight,” Mom replied. “Do you really want to be responsible for her?”

  I turned to Courtney. She flashed me a devilish grin. Mom was right. Courtney is trouble.

  For one thing, she thinks she’s a gymnast. She’s always doing cartwheels over the couch. Or swinging herself off the banister, trying for a perfect landing.

  She likes to climb things too. Like the rain gutters on the side of the house. Last spring she climbed onto the garage roof, and six firemen had to haul her down.

  “Courtney doesn’t need a baby-sitter,” I grumbled. “She needs a keeper!”

  “Why isn’t Mrs. Craven coming?” Courtney asked.

  “She’s sick,” Mom replied. “She’s sending someone in her place.”

  “Thrills and chills.” I sighed. “Probably some old lady who will want to play Uno all night.”

  The doorbell rang. “There she is now,” Mom said. “At least give her a chance, Matt.”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  I pulled open the front door and was hit by a blast of wind and rain. Staggering back, I stared out at a girl in a purple rain slicker. “I’m Lulu,” she said. “Are you Matthew?”

  She didn’t wait for me to answer. She stepped into the house, dripping pools of water onto the carpet, shaking herself dry like a dog.

  “Hi, Lulu,” Mom said. “Let me take your wet things.”

  Lulu handed over her umbrella and rain slicker. Mom hurried to hang them in the closet.

  Lulu shook herself again. “It’s a shivery night,” she said, smiling at Courtney and me. “My favorite kind.”

  She ruffled her wavy black hair with both hands. I guessed she was fifteen or sixteen. She had round, dark eyes, very pale skin, and bright-purple lipsticked lips, the same color as her rain slicker.

  She pushed her hair back behind the shoulders of her black sweater. She wore tight black jeans and shiny black-leather boots. “Hey, guys,” she said, “it’s nice to meet you both.” She had a soft, whispery voice.

  Wow! She is a total babe! I thought. Awesome!

  Maybe a baby-sitter isn’t such a bad idea after all!

  Lulu sat down on the couch. Muttley came in and nosed around the puddles near the front door. Then, when he didn’t find anything to eat, he sniffed Lulu’s boots for a while.

  “Dogs like me,” Lulu said. She reached down to pet the big gray mutt’s head. “They know I can read their minds.”

  She stared hard into Muttley’s eyes. “I know what he’s thinking now,” she said. “He’s thinking that he’s hungry.”

  Courtney and I both laughed. “He’s always hungry,” Courtney said. “He eats everything he sees!”

  Mom rushed by, wearing a long raincoat and one of Dad’s baseball caps. “See you later,” she told us. She turned to Lulu. “Make yourself at home. Don’t let them drive you crazy.”

  “No problem,” Lulu said. “I know how to handle them. I’ll hypnotize them and put them in a trance.”

  Mom was already halfway out the door. I don’t think she heard what Lulu said. “That’s good,” Mom called, and the door closed behind her.

  I studied Lulu. She was staring deep into Muttley’s eyes again. Lulu has a funny sense of humor, I decided.

  She clapped her hands together, so hard it startled Muttley. “What shall we do tonight?” she asked. Her dark eyes sparkled in the light.

  “Do you like video games?” I asked. “I have PlayStation Two.”

  “Bor-ring,” Courtney groaned. “Can you help me with my cheer-leader routine? I?
??m trying out for the third-grade squad on Monday.”

  “We don’t have cheerleaders at my school,” Lulu replied in her whispery voice. “I don’t think I could be much help.”

  “You just have to watch me,” Courtney said.

  “Yawn yawn,” I said.

  “Who were those kids I saw leaving your house?” Lulu asked.

  “They’re not kids—they’re pond scum,” I replied.

  “They live next door, so we have to see them,” Courtney said. “But we hate them and they hate us. They’re totally horrible.”

  We told Lulu just how horrible Larry and Maryjo are.

  Lulu jumped to her feet. “I have a fantastic idea. Would you like to get even with them?”

  I squinted at her. “What do you mean?”

  She giggled. “You know. Pay them back for being so gross?”

  “Sure!” Courtney and I replied together.

  “Then let’s bake some mud cookies,” Lulu said.

  Courtney and I stared at her. “You mean—make cookies out of mud?” Courtney asked.

  Lulu nodded. She winked at me.

  “Isn’t that kind of babyish?” I said. “I’m twelve. I made mud pies when I was three.”

  “You didn’t make mud pies like these,” Lulu whispered. A grin spread over her face. “These are very special. And it’s a perfect day to make them.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked. “It’s pouring outside.”

  Lulu’s grin grew wider. “Exactly. That’s when the mud is ripe.”

  Courtney and I splashed through the backyard, carrying trowels and a bucket from the garage. I ducked low, but the wind blew cold rain into my face.

  “I don’t believe we’re doing this,” I grumbled, pulling up the hood on my rain slicker.

  We both squatted in front of Dad’s vegetable garden. I held the bucket, and Courtney began shoveling wet mud and plopping it into the bucket.

  “Hey—who let Muttley out?” Courtney cried.

  The huge dog came racing through the mud and leaped at me. “Hey—down! Get down!” I cried. His big paws smeared my raincoat with wet mud.

  “Take the bucket away!” Courtney yelled. “Take it away! He’s trying to eat the mud!”

  A few minutes later I kicked off my muddy boots and handed the bucket to Lulu. Courtney and I peeled off our filthy rain gear.