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    Frightmares: A Creepy Collection of Scary Stories
    Frightmares: A Creepy Collection of Scary Stories
    Frightmares: A Creepy Collection of Scary Stories
    Ebook123 pages1 hour

    Frightmares: A Creepy Collection of Scary Stories

    By Michael Dahl and Xavier Bonet

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    About this ebook

    What if you only had one hundred words to warn humanity of a deadly danger? What if your favorite sci-fi movie suddenly turned into a real-life worst nightmare? What if a girl you've never seen before keeps showing up in photos on your cell phone? What if you hear a knocking sound in the middle of the night? In each of the 27 tales in this book, people are afraid. Very afraid. Read their stories. See if you share their fears. Because if you don't now . . . you will.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherCapstone Young Readers
    Release dateAug 1, 2015
    ISBN9781496524744
    Frightmares: A Creepy Collection of Scary Stories
    Author

    Michael Dahl

    Michael Dahl is the prolific author of the bestselling Goodnight, Baseball picture book and more than 200 other books for children and young adults. He has won the Association of Educational Publishers Distinguished Achievement Award three times for his nonfiction, a Teachers’ Choice Award from Learning Magazine, and a Seal of Excellence from the Creative Child Awards. Dahl currently lives in Minnesota.

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      Book preview

      Frightmares - Michael Dahl

      TABLE OF CONTENTS

      Cover

      Title Page

      Introduction

      SECTION 1: INSIDE THE HOUSE

      THE STRANGER ON THE STAIRS

      KNOCK, KNOCK

      COLD SEAT

      THE LAVA GAME

      DON’T LET THE BEDBUG BITE

      THE BACK OF THE CLOSET

      HAIKUKU

      DON’T MAKE A WISH

      SECTION 2: AROUND THE CORNER

      MEET THE PARENTS

      CLOSER AND CLOSER

      LOVE BUG

      PICKLED

      DEAD END

      THE DOLL THAT WAVED GOODBYE

      HALLOWEEN HEAD

      NIGHT CRAWLERS

      CHALK

      SIDEWALKS FROM OUTER SPACE

      SNOW MONSTER

      SECTION 3: OUT OF YOUR MIND

      BLINK!

      A PERFECT FIT

      THE VOICE IN THE BOYS’ ROOM

      THE WORLD’S MOST AWESOME TOOTHPASTE

      ONE HUNDRED WORDS

      THE PHANTOM ON THE PHONE

      UNDER COVERS

      THE ELF’S LAST TRICK

      MICHAEL DAHL TELLS ALL

      SECTION 1: INSIDE THE HOUSE

      SECTION 2: AROUND THE CORNER

      SECTION 3: OUT OF YOUR MIND

      About the Author

      About the Illustrator

      Copyright

      Back Cover

      Dear Reader,

      I LIVE IN A HAUNTED HOUSE.

      Not everyone believes me, but I’ve seen the ghost. Her name is Helen. One night I stood at the end of my hallway and saw Helen glide into my bedroom.

      That’s the only word for it. Glide.

      I slept on the couch that night.

      The previous owners told me Helen’s name. They did not tell me what she looked like. I found that out for myself.

      It seems we all find out what scares us when we are alone.

      Now it’s your turn to be alone. Alone with this book. Just you and the pages and the stories. You’ll find out what scares the people in these stories.

      At the same time, you might also find out what scares you . . .

      SECTION 1

      INSIDE THE HOUSE

      THE STRANGER ON THE STAIRS

      Six-year-old Brandon Spode hated climbing the stairs at night.

      Time for bed, Brandon, said his mother. Up to your room.

      I don’t want to, Brandon moaned.

      Don’t tell me it’s the man again, said Mrs. Spode.

      He’s sitting up there, said Brandon.

      Mrs. Spode stood at the bottom of the stairs, her hands on her hips, and looked up. There’s nothing there, she said.

      Mrs. Spode had braces on her legs, so she never climbed the stairs herself. Her bedroom was on the main floor.

      Brandon pointed. He’s right there.

      That’s a shadow, said Mrs. Spode. The light in the hallway makes a shadow. You know what a shadow is, don’t you?

      Brandon nodded. He knew what a shadow was. But he also knew that the man on the stairs wasn’t made by light and shadows.

      The man sat there every night on the top step. His skin was the color of a red crayon that had melted on the sidewalk. His eyebrows were thick and bushy. He had a wide grin that stretched his face tight, like the skin of a balloon. Three reddish bumps grew on his forehead.

      I don’t want to go to bed, said Brandon.

      Mrs. Spode was tired of having the same argument every night. This time I’ll stand right here and watch you go up the stairs, she said. All right?

      Brandon didn’t move.

      It’s getting late, young man, his mother said.

      Slowly, Brandon took the first step.

      The man on the stairs never moved. When Brandon had first seen him, he thought the man was a statue. But when he passed him, Brandon could hear breathing. Then one night, he saw the man blink.

      Hurry up, Brandon. I can’t stand here all night, can I? said Mrs. Spode.

      The boy approached the figure at the top step.

      Keep going, said his mother.

      Brandon heard breathing. He could see white teeth gleaming in the stretched-out grin.

      The boy shut his eyes. He kept climbing. He put his right hand against the wall to guide him. Brandon stumbled a bit when his stocking feet reached the hallway. He was at the top. He opened his eyes and looked down at his mother.

      See, I told you, said Mrs. Spode, crossing her arms. There’s no man sitting on the stairs, now is there?

      No, Brandon said softly.

      Then get to bed, ordered his mother. The woman turned and saw a man standing behind her. A man with a red face, bumps on his forehead, and a wide, stretchy smile.

      Upstairs, Brandon heard a scream and then a thud as his mother fainted and hit the floor.

      KNOCK, KNOCK

      Noah and his older brother, Sky, both folded their arms and stared at their parents across the dinner table.

      I don’t believe it, said Sky.

      You only have to share a bedroom for a week, their mother explained patiently.

      I want my own room, Sky said, pouting.

      As soon as we are finished painting, said their father, you will each have your own room.

      This place is creepy, said Noah.

      Their mother sighed and said, It’s not creepy. There’s so much sunshine and fresh air.

      It’s got sunshine, thought Noah, because there aren’t any trees.

      Their new home had been a boarding house for loggers a hundred years ago. It sat in the middle of boggy fields. The trees for miles around had all been cut down. There was nothing around but whispering cattails and jabbering frogs. The driveway was dirt, and it didn’t meet another road for at least five miles. The giant house had four porches, a front parlor with five sofas, a sauna built into the side of a hill, and more than a dozen bedrooms.

      Creepy, Noah had decided.

      That night, the brothers trudged angrily up to the third floor of the new house and got ready for bed. Sky rested his head on his pillow and stared over at his brother’s bed. I hope the ghosts don’t keep you awake, he said, smiling.

      Noah could see his brother’s teeth shine in the darkness. Quit it, Sky, he said.

      Oh, you didn’t know? said Sky. Yeah, Dad told me this place is haunted.

      I said, quit it!

      One of the old loggers died outside during a blizzard, Sky continued. He went out to pee, and the door locked behind him.

      I mean it!

      He knocked and knocked, Sky said, but no one heard him. The wind was too loud. And in the morning, they found him dead on the doorstep, frozen solid.

      Yeah, right. Noah rolled his eyes. He didn’t believe his brother at all.

      His hand was frozen in midair, Sky continued. Like he was trying to knock.

      I’m telling Dad in the morning if you don’t stop, said Noah.

      Morning is a long way away, said Sky. Then he snapped off the bedside lamp they both shared and turned over to sleep. Well, good night, bro.

      Noah didn’t say anything. He gripped the covers and listened to the wind as it rumbled across the ancient roof.

      It’s June. There’s no chance of a blizzard, Noah thought.

      He grew tired, and he finally drifted off

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