Authors: R.L. Stine

They Call Me Creature (14 page)

And then she opened her mouth wide.

Staring at each other through the glass, we both opened our mouthsâand screamed and screamed and screamed.

R.L. STINE says he has a great job. “My job is to give kids the CREEPS!” With his scary books, R.L. has terrified kids all over the world. He has sold over 300 million books, making him the best-selling children's author in history.

These days, R.L. is dishing out new frights in his series THE NIGHTMARE ROOM. When he isn't working, he likes to read old mysteries, watch
SpongeBob Squarepants
on TV, and take his dog, Nadine, for long walks around New York City, where he lives with his wife, Jane, and son, Matthew.

“I love taking my readers to scary places,” R.L. says. “Do you know the scariest place of all? It's your MIND!”

Visit www.AuthorTracker.com for exclusive information on your favorite HarperCollins author.

Take a look at what's ahead in

THE NIGHTMARE ROOM #7
The Howler

Another eerie howl floated into the room. Then, more scratching sounds.

“Scottâlet the cat in!” Scott's mom called from the other room. “She's at the back door again. Don't you hear her?”

“I'll get her, Mom,” Scott called. He trotted to the door. “Dumb cat,” he muttered.

I let out a long sigh.

Vanessa laughed. “Did you think you heard a ghost?”

“No,” I lied. “I knew it was a cat.” I could feel my face growing hot. I always blush whenever I tell a lie.

I felt a little shaky. Why did I suddenly think that Scott really had ghosts in his house?

I guess it was because I wanted to believe
so much
.

Matilda, Scott's black cat, came running over our feet, desperate to get to her water dish. Scott appeared in the kitchen doorway. “Come on. We don't want to keep the ghosts waiting.”

We followed him through the front hall to the stairs. The hall was long and dark, with ghostly gray wallpaper and lights on the walls shaped like candles.

“Scottâwho is here?” his mother shouted from the living room.

“It's Spencer and Vanessa,” he called to her. And then he added in a deep voice that was supposed to be scary, “They've come to visit the Haunted Mansion.”

“Huh?” his mother called. “Haunted
what
?”

“She tries to keep the ghosts a secret,” Scott whispered to us. “She doesn't want anyone to know about them.”

“Yeah. Sure,” I muttered.

The wooden stairs creaked and groaned as Vanessa and I followed him upstairs. “Sometimes, I hear footsteps going up and down these stairs late at night,” Scott said. “I flash on the lightsâand there's no one here.”

Vanessa shook her head. “He's good,” she whispered. “He's real good. He almost has
me
believing!”

“Not me,” I whispered back.

In the upstairs hall, we stopped under a door in the ceiling. Scott grabbed a rope that hung down from the door.

“This leads to the attic,” he said. “I think this is where the ghosts hang out before dark.”

He tugged the rope. The door creaked down. There were wooden stairs built on the other side of the door. “Careful. Some of these stairs are rotted,” Scott warned.

I started up the stairs, slowly, one at a time. The stairs were steep, and there was nothing to hold onto.

Halfway up, I turned back to Scott. “You're telling us we'll see ghosts up here?”

He nodded solemnly. “They're not shy. They're not afraid of us. They don't care if we see them or not.”

I climbed the rest of the way and waited for Vanessa and Scott to join me. The attic was long and low-ceilinged. It was one big, L-shaped room that curved off to the right.

There was only one window, smeared with a thick layer of dust. Orange sunlight seeped through, but it lighted just a small part of the room. The rest of the attic lay in shadow.

I blinked several times, waiting for my eyes to adjust to the strange light. The attic was cluttered with cartons, and stacks of magazines, books, and furniture. I saw couches and chairs covered in sheets, like Halloween ghosts.

Cobwebs clung to an old coat rack, tilted against one wall. A stack of framed photographs leaned against the opposite wall. The photos were dark, the paper yellowed and cracked.

In one of the photos, a strange-looking boy in a black cap appeared to stare out at us. He had dark circles around his sad eyes. His face was puckered like a prune. He looked more like a monkey than a boy.

“Is that your baby picture?” Vanessa joked to Scott.

He raised a finger to his lips. “Ssshhhh. Do you want to see a ghost or not?”

We stepped out of the light, into the shadowy area of the room. My shoes slid on the thick layer of dust over the floor. I tripped over a small table, but caught it before it fell.

We turned the corner. I squinted to see. This section of the attic was totally dark.

Scott pulled a light cord. A tiny ceiling bulb flickered on.

In the dim light, I saw an old rocking chair with one arm broken. A wooden clock standing on its side. A stack of dishes.

And thenâ¦

Vanessa and I saw her at the same time. An old womanâso pale, her face so ghostly paleâstanding against the curtained back wall. Her old-fashioned clothes were faded. No color. No color anywhere.

My mouth dropped open. A tiny cry burst out.

Vanessa grabbed my hand. “Scott wasn't kidding!” she whispered.

Credits

Cover illustration by Vince Natale

Cover design by John Fontana

Copyright

THE NIGHTMARE ROOM: THEY CALL ME CREATURE

Go Deeper Into This Nightmareâ¦
& Â© 2000 Parachute Publishing, L.L.C.

R.L. Stine asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

EPub Â© Edition MARCH 2001 ISBN: 9780061757006

First print edition, 2000. ISBN 0-06-440904-X