Free The Horror by Rodman Philbrick Page A

the chalk.
    Before she could touch it the chalk swooped into the air.
    It flew over to the wall and began to write. Very slowly, in large, uneven, childlike letters, it spelled out:
    SAVE ME

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    SAVE ME.
    The childlike letters glowed for a moment and then faded away.
    â€œLook!” said Katie.
    I suddenly realized something had changed in the room. The little toy chest and the rocking chair were gone.
    Bobby’s old bedroom had vanished and we were back in the dusty old attic.
    The newspaper clippings were gone, too, but the old photograph remained in Katie’s hand.
    â€œHow can we save a ghost?” asked Katie. “A ghost is already dead.”
    â€œLet’s get out of here,” I said. “We’ll talk about it later.”
    I didn’t want to stay in that creepy attic a second longer.
    Downstairs in the hallway Katie studied the photo again. “Such a sweet little boy,” she said regretfully. “We must figure out a way to help him.”
    â€œRight now all I want to figure out is how to get a night’s sleep.”
    I went into the bedroom and shoved the bureau up against the door.
    Try to get in now, I thought. Just try.
    The next morning I came downstairs to find Katie pacing in the kitchen.
    Sally had already eaten her breakfast and I was ready for pancakes or whatever, but Katie waved her hand and said, “How can you think about food at a time like this?”
    â€œEasy,” I said. “I close my eyes and I see a huge plate of flapjacks.”
    â€œHelp yourself to a bowl of cereal,” she suggested. “When you’re finished, I’ll tell you about my plan.”
    â€œForget the cereal,” I said. “What plan?”
    Katie stared at me with bright eyes. “The tree,” she said. “We’ll chop down the tree!”
    I slumped into a chair. What was she talking about? Had last night’s adventures unhinged her mind?
    â€œThat’s where he died, right?” she said. “Remember the newspaper clipping? It said Bobby died falling from the cherry tree.”
    â€œYeah,” I said. “So?”
    â€œSo if we chop it down, maybe that will free his spirit. The house won’t be haunted anymore.”
    I stared at her. There was something about this plan that bothered me but I couldn’t put my finger on it.
    â€œCome on,” said Katie, urging me on. “Let’s do it now.”
    Reluctantly I agreed to help her. “We’ll need a chainsaw,” I suggested.
    â€œNo way,” Katie said. “Too dangerous. Didn’t I see a Boy Scout hatchet in your room?”
    â€œYou can’t chop down a tree with a hatchet,” I protested. “It’ll take forever.”
    â€œWe can make a start,” Katie insisted. “Show Bobby we’re trying.”
    There was no arguing with her.
    I got the hatchet. It felt surprisingly heavy in my hand and got even heavier as I approached the backyard.
    Katie was waiting under the cherry tree, holding Sally by the hand. The branches spread high overhead, the leaves green and healthy.
    â€œYou wait over there,” she said to Sally, leading her away from the tree.
    Sally stood there looking at us, solemn and silent, her bunny Winky dangling from her hand.
    â€œI don’t know if this is such a good idea,” I said, hefting the hatchet. “Bobby seems to like this tree. It’s the only outside place that he goes.”
    â€œHe’s drawn to it, of course,” said Katie impatiently. “It’s only natural since his spirit is trapped here. Perhaps even a small cut will be enough to set him free.”
    She stepped back briskly and nodded at me. “Go ahead.”
    With a sigh I raised my arm, aimed at a spot in the old bark and started to swing.
    I felt a sharp tug.
    â€œHey!”
    The hatchet jerked out of my hand.
    It whirled up in the air like a boomerang, flashing end over end.
    And then it came back at