R. Stine - The Barking Ghost

"But — but — " I sputtered.

"Silence!" the voice commanded. "Silence while you are in the Changing Room."

"The what?" I cried.

The red eyes flared.

"Centuries ago, my friend and I had an evil spell cast upon us," the voice continued, ignoring my question. "The spell forced us to roam these woods as dogs. Ghost dogs."

"Too bad," I muttered. "But what do you want us for?"

The dogs snickered. It sounded more like dry coughing than laughter.

"You are in the Changing Room," the voice told us. "For nearly a hundred years, we have tried to get two people in here. And now we have succeeded."

"And -?" I demanded.

"We're going to change places with you," the voice said casually.

"Excuse me?" Fergie cried. "You're going to what?"

"We will take your places," the voice repeated. "And you shall take ours. You will be the ghost dogs. You will roam these woods as we did — forever!"

"No way!" I cried. I wanted to run.

But where?

I was surrounded by heavy blackness on all sides.

"Fergie — " I started.

But I heard her gasp. And then I began to feel warm. As if someone had covered me with a heavy blanket.

The warmth swept over my body.

Simmering heat. As if I were in an oven.

Warmer. Warmer. Until sweat dripped down my face, and I was panting in the heat.

I can't stand it anymore! I thought. I'm going to melt!

I opened my mouth to scream. But the sounds that escaped my throat weren't mine.

In fact, they didn't sound human at all.

I opened my eyes to bright sunshine.

The woods around me appeared fuzzy. I struggled to focus.

I yawned. Then I stretched my entire body and shook myself awake.

Yes! That stretch felt good.

I sniffed the air and shook myself again. Wow! Something smelled delicious.

My stomach growled. I suddenly realized I must be starving.

Still trying to focus, I took two steps and fell on my face.

I stood again, feeling unsteady. What's wrong? I wondered.

I gazed around the woods. Why were the trees suddenly all black and white? Why was the sky gray? The grass gray?

What had happened to all the color?

Was this a dream?

I heard a gruff sound behind me. Someone clearing his throat.

I turned — and saw a black Labrador.

I started to cry out — but hoarse barks escaped my throat.

Startled, I glanced down at my own body. My own fur-covered body. "Ohhhh." I dug my front paws into the dirt. I shook myself hard, trying to shake the dog body off. Trying to shake it away so I could see my real body. Cooper's body.

And as I shook, I jerked my head back. And saw a long, black tail!

My tail!

I let out a startled yip. I'm a dog, too, I realized.

The ghosts in the Changing Room weren't kidding around. They changed places with us. Fergie and I are dogs.

Fergie whimpered.

Trembling, we both began to trot, our tails hanging between our legs. Fergie's whimpers turned into mournful howls.

What was that? Strange! I thought Fergie said something.

"I did say something," she insisted. "Well, actually, I thought something. I think we can read each other's thoughts, Cooper."

Okay, Fergie, then what am I thinking now?

"You're thinking of that leftover fried liver from last night that your mom put in the fridge," Fergie thought.

That's right!

We could read each other's mind! Cool!

I licked my lips a few times, thinking about the liver. I loved liver so much, Mom made it for me once a week. Man, did I want that liver now!

Then I remembered I had other things to worry about.

"Fergie, what are we going to do? We're dogs!"

"I can see that, Cooper," she replied, swatting a fly from behind her floppy, black ear.

"Well, we've got to do something!" I cried. "We can't trot around like this forever. Those ghost dogs stole our bodies! They're probably fooling my parents this very minute!"

Fergie didn't reply. Instead, she ran around in circles, chasing her tail. "Hey! This is fun!"

"Fergie! Quit messing around! We're in major trouble!"

"Okay, okay! I'm sorry! I'm upset about this, too, you know!"

Fergie dropped to the dirt. She buried her snout in her front paws. Deep in thought. "You know what, Cooper?"

"What?" I asked as I paced back and forth, trying to think of a way to get us out of this mess.

"Your droopy ears look pretty good — now that you're a dog."

"Fergie! Get serious!" I growled.

Then it hit me.

"I know!" I cried. "I know what we can do. We have to drag those ghosts back to the shack and trade places with them again!"

"Oh, sure, Cooper. No problem," Fergie barked. "And how do you suppose we do that? Walk up to them and say, 'Uh, excuse me, but can you come back to the shack with us? It'll only be for a second.' "

I stared at Fergie. She had become a dog. But her personality hadn't changed one bit!

"I heard that," she mumbled.

I sighed. "Well, do you have a better plan?" I asked, scratching furiously at my neck.

"I'm thinking, I'm thinking," Fergie answered with a yawn. "I'm really so tired. Maybe after a nap — "

"No! No naps! We have to do something — now! Listen to me. We'll get my parents to help. All we have to do is convince them that we're the real Cooper and Margaret, and that those kids in the house are imposters."

"And how are we going to do that?" Fergie asked.

Good question. Real good question.

Fergie and I trotted through the woods. I sniffed the ground. Sniffed the weeds. So many great smells!

We stopped at the edge of the woods behind my house. I heard laughing, shouting voices. Then I saw my parents. In the backyard. Throwing a Frisbee around with Fergie and Cooper!

Those fakes!

I growled with anger.

I bared my teeth. Prepared to attack.

"Whoa!" Fergie cried. "Cooper, wait! You can't just barge over there and attack them!"

Fergie was right. That wouldn't solve anything.

I watched my dad send the Frisbee flying across the yard.

I had a strong urge to jump up and go for that Frisbee.

But I stopped myself. This was no time for playing.

Then I had an idea. The greatest idea. The idea of a lifetime.

"Come on!" I urged Fergie. I began loping toward the side of my house.

"Cooper, where are you going?" she asked.

I didn't answer. I stopped outside the wall to Mickey's room. "This will just take a second," I told Fergie.

She read my mind. She knew what I planned to do.

Side by side, we leaped through the wall of the house.

And burst into Mickey's room.

He was standing in his underwear. Leaning over his dresser, sorting out his T-shirts. He cried out and spun around as Fergie and I started to growl.

My brother uttered a short, terrified whimper. He started backing up, his eyes wide with fright.

Fergie and I began barking and jumping up on our hind legs.

"How — how did you -?" Mickey stammered.

Those were the only words he could choke out.

Then he let out another whimper, stumbled past us, and bolted out through the bedroom door. "Mommy! Daddy! Help!" I heard him scream. "Mommy! Daddy!"

Fergie and I didn't want to miss seeing him run through the yard in his underwear. We trotted through the wall and watched until he disappeared around the garage.

"Did you see his face?" I yelped happily. "Was that awesome?!"

"Man, that was excellent!" Fergie cheered.

"Hey, you two!" a stern voice called.

I turned around.

Dad!

"How did you dogs get in this yard?" my father demanded sharply. "Come on. Out! Out!"

"But, wait! Dad! It's me, Cooper!" I tried to yell. But all that came out was Woof! Woof! Woof!

"Out! Out!" Dad repeated angrily.