Free Don't Close Your Eyes! by R.L. Stine

came running into the room after us. “You can't wake him,” she said. “He sleeps so soundly.”
    “We'll wake him,” Tara said. “Nicky. Hurry. Start tickling.”
    They pulled down the blankets, tugged up his red pajama shirt, and started tickling his ribs.
    It only took a few seconds. Mr. Park started wiggling and squirming. And then he woke up, laughing.
    “Dad!” Ms. Park cried in surprise. “What's so funny?”
    He scratched at the curly white hair on top of his head. “Must have been having a funny dream.” Then he saw me. “You? What are
you
doing here?”
    “It's an emergency,” I said. “I'm sorry to wake you. Really. But I really need your help.”
    Blinking himself awake, he pulled himself up. “My help?” He looked over my shoulder at his daughter. “Sumner, what is the problem here? How did he get in here? The door was locked.”
    Ms. Park shrugged. “I don't know, Dad. He was determined to see you.”
    He squinted at me with his bright blue eyes. “Max, right?”
    “Yes,” I said. “I—”
    “What is the problem, Max?”
    “It's about Inkweed,” I said. “I didn't tell youthe whole truth the other day. You see, Inkweed is inside me.”
    He made a gulping sound. He scratched his head again.
    “I did what you said,” I told him, speaking breathlessly. “I went to a dark cavern. Tonight. A night when there is no moon.”
    He kept squinting at me. He looked as if he didn't understand what I was telling him.
    “Don't you see? The darkest place on the darkest night? That's where you told me to go. But it didn't work, Mr. Park. It didn't work at all.”
    Mr. Park turned his body and lowered his feet to the floor. “Max, you wanted
real
advice?” he asked.
    “Yes. Of course,” I said. “I tried what you told me, but—”
    “That was just a story,” Mr. Park said.
    My breath caught in my throat. “Huh?”
    “It was just a story I made up,” Mr. Park said. “It wasn't supposed to be real advice. The darkest place on the darkest night? I just made that up.”
    “I told you,” his daughter said. “My dad is a storyteller. He makes up stories.”
    Mr. Park nodded. “I made up that story on the spot. I thought you enjoyed it.”
    “It—it wasn't real?” I gasped. I still couldn't believe it.
    “Inkweed isn't real,” Mr. Park said. “Inkweedis a legend. A myth. A ghost story, like all the others.”
    “But—but—” I sputtered.
    “There's no one like Dad,” Ms. Park said. “He makes up the wildest stories. He can make up dozens of them in an afternoon. You should come hear him perform sometime, Max.”
    “Uh … yeah,” I muttered.
    I knew I couldn't convince them of the truth. I knew I couldn't convince them that Inkweed was real. And I was too tired to try.
    “Come back sometime, Max, and I'll tell you some more Inkweed stories,” Mr. Park said.
    “Maybe I'll tell YOU some stories next time,” I murmured.
    If there's a next time.

30
    NICKYANDTARADRAGGED me home. I don't know how they did it. My legs wouldn't work at all. And I kept saying, “It wasn't real? It wasn't real?” again and again.
    They carried me through the back door, into the kitchen. Tara flashed on a light. I dropped into a chair at the table, nearly unconscious.
    “I'm sorry, guys,” I croaked. “I … I can't stay awake another minute. I … I'm so sorry.”
    “Max, you've got to try!” Tara said. She held my head up off the kitchen table with both hands. “Try, Max. Give Nicky and me a chance to think up a new plan.”
    “No new plan,” I muttered. The room spun in front of me. My head felt as if it weighed a thousand pounds. “No new plan. We lose. Inkweed wins. We lose. Lose. …”
    My eyes started to close.
    Tara held on to my head. “Open your eyes, Max. Come on. You can do it.” She turned toNicky. “Turn on the TV. Maybe that will keep him awake.”
    “We lose,” I murmured. “We lose.”
    I was out of my mind. I didn't know
what
I was saying.
    Nicky clicked on the