R. Stine - The Barking Ghost

I lowered my hands.

Silence now. No settling. No pipes. No breathing.

I must be losing my mind.

If I told Gary and Todd about this one, they'd really laugh their heads off.

And then the breathing started again. Raspy and wet. Hoarse breathing. Like a sick animal.

I couldn't just lie there. I had to see what it was.

I swung my legs out of bed. I took a deep breath. Then I lowered myself to the floor.

Carefully, I lifted the blanket from the bottom of the bed. Then carefully, carefully, I lowered my head and peeked under the bed.

That's when the hands darted out — and grabbed me. Two strong, cold hands. Slowly tightening their grip around my throat.

I screamed.

So loudly, I surprised myself.

My attacker must have been surprised, too. He quickly let go of my neck. I clutched my throat and sputtered for air.

"Cooper, will you keep it down?" a voice whispered. "You'll wake Mom and Dad!"

Huh?

Oh, man.

It was Mickey. My totally obnoxious older brother.

"Mickey! You jerk!" I cried. "You scared me to death!"

Mickey slid out from under the bed and wiped some dust off his pajamas. "No big challenge," he muttered.

"Shut up," I snapped, rubbing my sore neck. In the mirror I could see where Mickey's hands had grabbed my throat. Dark red blotches circled my neck.

"Look what you did!" I cried. "You know I bruise easily!"

"Oh, don't be such a baby! I got you, man!" Mickey cried, grinning.

I stared furiously at my idiot brother. I wished I could wipe that grin off his face. And not get in trouble for it.

"You're a jerk!" was all I could think to say.

"Grow up!" Mickey shot back. He headed for the door, then turned around. "Would Cooper like a little night-light next to his bed?" he asked in a tiny baby voice.

That's when I lost it.

I leaped on to his back and pounded his head with my fists.

"Hey!" he screamed, trying to shake me off. "What do you think you're doing? Get off me!"

Mickey's legs buckled under him, and he fell to the floor. I clung to his back. I kept pounding him with my fists.

Mickey is three years older than me, and he's a lot bigger. But I had him in the right position, and landed a few good punches.

Then he shifted to the right.

And started pounding me back. Luckily, he got in only one really good wallop before Mom and Dad ran in to break it up.

"Cooper! Mickey! What's going on in here?"

"He started it!" I called out, trying to duck Mickey's fists.

My father reached down and pulled Mickey off me. "I don't care who started it!" he said angrily. "This is no way to act on the first night in your new house. Mickey, get back to your room!"

"But, Dad, he — "

"Never mind who started it. This behavior had better stop — now! Because if there is a next time, you'll both start off the new school year grounded!"

Grumbling, Mickey stomped out of the room. But not before sticking his tongue out at me. Mickey was the baby. Not me.

"Really, Dad, Mickey started it," I said when he was gone.

"And you're totally innocent, right?" my father asked, rolling his eyes.

"Yes!" I insisted.

Dad just shook his head. "Go to sleep, Cooper."

When my parents left the room, I paced back and forth, rubbing my neck.

I was so steamed!

It wasn't the first time Mickey's pulled something like this. For as long as I can remember, Mickey has played tricks on me, trying to terrify me.

He usually succeeds, too.

Once, when Mom and Dad went away for a weekend, he hid a tape recorder in my room. It played horrifying screams all night long.

And another time, he didn't come to get me after Little League practice. He left me standing there, all alone on the playground, while he hid out and watched me panic.

But hiding under my bed tonight was the worst. He has to be one of the biggest jerks alive.

I climbed back into bed and stared up at the ceiling. I had to think of a way to get Mickey back.

What could I do? Hide outside his window and scream?

Jump out from behind the shower curtain when he's brushing his teeth?

No. Too dumb. It would have to be something totally excellent. Something so creepy it would scare me. Even though I was the one doing it.

I watched the spooky shadows move along my walls and ceiling. And listened to the frightening noises of my new house — noises I would have to hear for the rest of my life.

The pipes rattling. The dogs barking.

Wait a minute.

Dogs?

I sat up. We don't have a dog. And there isn't another house around here for miles.

But I definitely heard a barking dog.

I listened closely. The dog barked again. Then started to howl.

I sighed and pulled off the covers again. I started to climb out of bed. Then it hit me.

Mickey!

This had to be another one of my brother's stupid tricks. He was an excellent dog-barker. He practiced it all the time.

Smiling, I settled back on my pillow. I wouldn't get up. I wouldn't go to the window.

He wasn't going to get me this time. No way.

I lay there listening to Mickey make a fool of himself. Howling and barking like a big old dog.

What a jerk.

Then, suddenly, I sat up again. Whoa. I heard two dogs howling now.

Even Mickey couldn't pull that off.

The howling turned to piercing cries. So close. Right under my window.

As I said, I made it through a whole day without being scared. But, boy, was I making up for it tonight!

For the zillionth and third time, I slowly crept to the window. I could hear them clearly. Two dogs. Wailing and howling.

For the zillionth and third time, I gazed out the window.

But for the first time, I couldn't believe what I saw.

I didn't see anything.

Nothing at all. No dogs. Not one.

I squinted into the yard. Empty.

How could they have vanished so quickly?

I stood at the window for a few more seconds, but no dogs appeared.

I shivered. I'll never sleep again, I thought. Not as long as I have to live here.

I crept back to bed. I pulled the covers up to my chin. And counted the green and blue squigglies on the wallpaper by my head.

I guess I finally fell asleep. When I opened my eyes, light streamed in through my window.

Yawning, I glanced at the clock. Six-thirty. I'm usually an early bird. I like to start my day as soon as possible.

I leaped out of bed and checked the yard. It didn't seem half as scary in the morning light.

I smiled when I noticed the jungle gym in the far corner. The last owners of the house built it. It had a slide and really high monkey bars. Yesterday, Dad hung a rope and tire from one of its beams, so now it had a swing, too.

Behind the jungle gym, the woods stretched all around. Woods thick with all different kinds of trees and shrubs and weeds. The woods surrounded our house on three sides. It seemed to go on forever.

I changed quickly, pulling a clean Red Sox T-shirt over my jeans. Grabbing my baseball cap, I flew through the house and ran outside.

A great summer day! Sunny and warm. If I were back home in Boston, I would hop on my bike and ride over to Gary's or Todd's house. Then we would spend the day outdoors, playing softball at the playground. Or just messing around.

But I'm not in Boston anymore. Better get used to that, I told myself.

I hoped some cool kids lived in this neighborhood. When we drove up to our house yesterday, I didn't see any other houses around. I guessed I'd have to spend the next few days alone — until school started next week.

I wandered over to the jungle gym. I swung on the tire swing for a little while. Back and forth. Back and forth. Staring at my bedroom window from the outside. Back and forth. Back and forth. Remembering last night.