Free The Howler by R. L. Stine Page A

eyes—until it felt as if my eyes were going to pop out.
    “Let’s go!” I shouted. But my voice was drowned out by the deafening wail.
    And then the ghosts appeared. Five howling figures, dancing out from the open closet. I saw a man and woman, another woman who was very old, and a boy and a girl. They wore old-fashioned clothes, tattered and faded.
    Their pale gray skin was pulled tight against their skulls. Patches of skin had fallen away, revealing yellowed bone underneath. Clumps of spidery hair sprouted from their bald scalps.
    Heads tossed back, they howled together, one ear-shattering note. They howled and danced, holding hands. A joyful dance. A dance of triumph.
    Their heavy, old-fashioned shoes pounded the attic floor—but made no sound. At first, caught up in their frantic steps, they didn’t seem to notice us.
    But the old woman’s eyes locked on me. She stopped her wild dance. The others stopped too. The attic air turned frigid and sour.
    So silent now I could hear my heart hammering against my chest.
    I spun away and started to run. Scott was already halfway down the stairs. Ed, Justin, and Vanessa were right behind me.
    We stumbled down the attic stairs and ran. The shrill, ghostly wails started up again. Following us. Growing higher, louder, more excited—so close behind.
    My breath escaped in wheezing gasps as I ran. The stairs, the walls, the rooms—all a bouncing blur in my throbbing head.
    I followed Scott to the kitchen. He reached the back door first. Grabbed the doorknob—
    —and let out a scream of pain.
    “It’s stuck! My hand is stuck!”
    He tugged and squirmed. Then he tried pulling his hand off the knob with his other hand.
    “Help me! OWWWWW! It’s starting to burn!”
    Ed and Justin didn’t move. They gaped at Scott’s hand—their eyes bulging.
    Vanessa and I pushed past them. Scott’s palm was stuck tightly to the brass knob. His fingers had turned bright red. As we stared, they darkened to purple.
    “Do something!” Scott wailed. “It’s like it’s glued!”
    I carefully tried to pry his fingers up.
    But Scott screamed in pain.
    I grabbed his whole hand and tried to turn it, to slide it off the knob.
    “It—it’s not working,” Scott moaned. “It’s not coming loose. Let go, Spencer.”
    I tried to raise my hand away. “Oh, no!” I cried. I tugged again. I twisted my hand and pulled hard.
    “OW! What are you doing?” Scott screamed. “Get off me! Get off !”
    “My hand…” I groaned. “It’s stuck to yours.”

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    We both twisted our hands. And tugged. I gritted my teeth and pulled with all my strength.
    But my palm was stuck tight to the back of Scott’s hand. And his hand was pressed to the doorknob.
    Behind us, the howls grew louder. The cold, putrid wind floated into the kitchen. I knew the screaming ghosts wouldn’t be far behind.
    Vanessa stepped up behind me. “Let me help,” she said.
    “NO!” I shouted. “Stay away! Don’t touch us!”
    Vanessa’s eyes went wide with horror as she stared at Scott and me, our hands locked together.
    Suddenly, the kitchen grew silent.
    I turned my head—and saw the five ghosts, staring at us.
    Staring at us with blank, glassy eyes.
    They were a family. A ghost family. Grandmother, father and mother, two kids.
    “They’re—they’re coming for us,” Vanessa whispered.
    Yes. They were moving quickly now. Floating silently around the kitchen counter.
    Their empty eyes locked on us coldly. Their faces knotted in anger.
    As they came toward us, I twisted my hand and tugged hard, trying to free myself. But I couldn’t pull away.
    I wanted to scream. But panic choked my throat.
    Justin and Ed backed up against the wall. Vanessa hunched over, tensed her muscles, both hands tightened into fists.
    “ Trapped… ” the old woman rasped at us. “ You are trapped .”
    Gliding so softly over the floor, they moved to surround us. And as they floated toward us, they changed.
    The clumps of hair dropped off.