Free The Haunting by Rodman Philbrick

there?”
    â€œ NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO !”
    Above me a child let out a piercing scream. It sounded as if it came from the top of the stairs. The scream seemed to free me and I tried to run up the steps.
    Something hurtled out of the darkness. I ducked and it whistled past my ear, just missing me.
    â€œ Ahhhh !”
    Behind me, right behind me, there was a cry of pain as the object connected with something and bounced, striking an end table and knocking it over.
    An antique lamp smashed to pieces.
    I dropped to the floor, feeling around for the missing bat. My hand closed over something heavy and coldly metallic. I held it up. A bronzed baby shoe.
    Something had hurled the heavy shoe at me—or maybe at something else on the stairs. Something behind me.
    Then the shoe was torn from my grasp. Wham—it flew into the air and smashed into the chandelier, raining glass everywhere.
    A piece of glass hit my leg and glanced off, cutting me slightly.
    Got to get out of here! I stumbled for the stairs. The air seemed to crackle around my ears. My only thought was to reach my room. It wanted me, I had to get away!
    Long, cold fingers came out of the shadows and snagged at my pajamas.
    I jerked free and tried to run.
    It was right behind me, gaining. Another whispery touch grazed my ankles.
    Then I was at the top of the stairs, my room only steps away. My breath wheezed in my chest. I reached for my bedroom door, threw it open and dived inside.
    I flung myself against the door and held it closed. Don’t come in , I prayed, don’t come in !
    Ghostly fingernails scraped along the door— skreeeek, skreeeek —and then moved on to rake the length of the wall.
    On the other side of the door a hollow voice spoke right into my ear. “ I’ll get you, Jason. You can’t hide. I’ll get you .”
    Then the ghostly voice slowly faded and the house settled into silence as deep and soundless as the grave.

20
    My skin was clammy and hot. When I opened my eyes the sun was beating down on me, already high. I had overslept, no surprise.
    I dressed as fast as I could, eager to tell my parents what had happened last night. This time it would be different. They’d have to believe me, with all the damage downstairs. Finally they’d have to listen, they’d have to realize that both me and Sally were in danger. Like it or not we’d have to get out of this house.
    Opening my door, I heard both Mom and Dad down in the kitchen. Good, I’d tackle them both at once.
    Suddenly I felt a little uneasy. Why hadn’t they come to wake me up when they found all that broken glass?
    They were laughing down there in the kitchen. Weird. Very weird.
    At the top of the stairs I stopped in surprise.
    The bronzed baby shoe was back on its shelf.
    Well, I realized, naturally Mom would have cleaned up the mess.
    My jaw dropped in amazement as I started down the stairs. The chandelier was hanging in its place, completely undamaged!
    I closed my eyes and opened them again. The chandelier was still there.
    I went down a few more steps. There was the little end table. On it was the antique lamp that last night had been smashed to bits. It was untouched.
    I picked it up and examined it. There wasn’t so much as a crack.
    What was going on here? Was I going crazy? Had it really all been a dream?
    Then I looked down at my leg. There it was—the small cut where the chandelier glass had hit me, beaded with dried blood. It was no dream. It had really happened, just as I remembered it.
    But Mom and Dad would never believe me. No point even telling them about it. Not until I had proof.

21
    It was the bottom of the ninth, two out, with runners on second and third. I was holding down third base, keeping the runner on the bag. Our team was up by one run.
    Just one more out and the game was ours.
    â€œHey, batter! Hey, batter!”
    Steve pitched without a windup, holding the runners on. He threw a fastball right down