Read Online 31 - Night of the Living Dummy II by R.L. Stine - (ebook by Undead) - Free Book Online
Authors: R.L. Stine - (ebook by Undead)
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wooden hands bobbing as he moved.
The heavy leather shoes slid over my carpet. The thin, boneless legs nearly
collapsed with each shuffling step.
Like a scarecrow, I thought, gripped with horror.
He walks like a scarecrow. Because he has no bones. No bones at all.
Up and down, his whole body bobbed as he crept away.
I waited until he slithered and scraped out the door and into the hall. Then
I jumped to my feet.
I took a deep breath and held it.
Then I tiptoed through the darkness after him.
Here we go! I told myself. Here we go!
17
I stopped at the bedroom door and poked my head into the hall. Mom keeps a
small night-light on all night just outside her bedroom door. It cast dim yellow
light over the other end of the hall.
Peering into the light, I watched Slappy pull himself silently toward Sara’s
room. The big shoes shuffled along the carpet. Slappy’s body bobbed and bent.
The big, wooden hands nearly dragged along the floor.
When my chest started to ache, I realized I hadn’t taken a breath. As
silently as I could, I let out a long whoosh of air. Then I took another deep
breath and started to follow Slappy down the hall.
I had a sudden impulse to shout: “Mom! Dad!”
They would burst out of their room and see Slappy standing there in the
middle of the hall.
But, no.
I didn’t want to shout for them now. I wanted to see where Slappy was
heading. I wanted to see what he planned to do.
I took a step. The floorboard creaked under my bare foot.
Did he hear me?
I pressed my back against the wall, tried to squeeze myself flat in the deep
shadows.
I peered through the dim yellow light at him. He kept bobbing silently along.
His shoulders rode up and down with each shuffling step.
He was just outside Sara’s room when he turned around.
My heart stopped.
I ducked low. Dropped back into the bathroom.
Had he seen me?
Had he turned around because he knew I was there?
I shut my eyes. Waited. Listened.
Listened for him to come scraping back. Listened for him to turn around and
come back to get me.
Silence.
I swallowed hard. My mouth felt so dry. My legs were trembling. I grabbed the
tile wall to steady myself.
Still silent out there.
I gathered up my courage and slowly, slowly poked my head out into the hall.
Empty.
I squinted toward Sara’s room in the yellow light.
No one there.
He’s in Sara’s room, I told myself. He’s doing something terrible in Sara’s
room. Something I’ll be blamed for.
Not this time, Slappy! I silently vowed.
This time you’re going to be caught.
Pressing against the wall, I crept down the hall.
I stopped in Sara’s doorway.
The night-light was plugged in across from Sara’s room. The light was
brighter here.
I squinted into her bedroom. I could see the mural she had started to paint.
A beach scene. The ocean. A broad, yellow beach. Kites flying over the beach.
Kids building a sand castle in one corner. The mural was tacked up, nearly
covering the entire wall.
Where was Slappy?
I took a step into the room—and saw him.
Standing at her paint table.
I saw his big wooden hand fumble over the table of supplies. Then he grabbed
a paintbrush in one hand.
He raised and lowered the brush, as if pretending to paint the air.
Then I saw him dip the paintbrush in a jar of paint.
Slappy took a step toward the mural. Then another step.
He stood for a moment, admiring the mural.
He raised the paintbrush high.
That’s when I burst into the room.
I dove toward the dummy just as he raised the paintbrush to the mural.
I grabbed the paintbrush with one hand. Wrapped my other hand around his
waist. And tugged him back.
The dummy kicked both legs and tried to punch me with his fists.
“Hey—!” a startled voice shouted.
The light clicked on.
Slappy went limp on my arm. His head dropped. His arms and legs dangled to
the floor.
Sitting up in bed, Sara gaped at me in horror.
I saw her eyes stop at the paintbrush in my
The heavy leather shoes slid over my carpet. The thin, boneless legs nearly
collapsed with each shuffling step.
Like a scarecrow, I thought, gripped with horror.
He walks like a scarecrow. Because he has no bones. No bones at all.
Up and down, his whole body bobbed as he crept away.
I waited until he slithered and scraped out the door and into the hall. Then
I jumped to my feet.
I took a deep breath and held it.
Then I tiptoed through the darkness after him.
Here we go! I told myself. Here we go!
17
I stopped at the bedroom door and poked my head into the hall. Mom keeps a
small night-light on all night just outside her bedroom door. It cast dim yellow
light over the other end of the hall.
Peering into the light, I watched Slappy pull himself silently toward Sara’s
room. The big shoes shuffled along the carpet. Slappy’s body bobbed and bent.
The big, wooden hands nearly dragged along the floor.
When my chest started to ache, I realized I hadn’t taken a breath. As
silently as I could, I let out a long whoosh of air. Then I took another deep
breath and started to follow Slappy down the hall.
I had a sudden impulse to shout: “Mom! Dad!”
They would burst out of their room and see Slappy standing there in the
middle of the hall.
But, no.
I didn’t want to shout for them now. I wanted to see where Slappy was
heading. I wanted to see what he planned to do.
I took a step. The floorboard creaked under my bare foot.
Did he hear me?
I pressed my back against the wall, tried to squeeze myself flat in the deep
shadows.
I peered through the dim yellow light at him. He kept bobbing silently along.
His shoulders rode up and down with each shuffling step.
He was just outside Sara’s room when he turned around.
My heart stopped.
I ducked low. Dropped back into the bathroom.
Had he seen me?
Had he turned around because he knew I was there?
I shut my eyes. Waited. Listened.
Listened for him to come scraping back. Listened for him to turn around and
come back to get me.
Silence.
I swallowed hard. My mouth felt so dry. My legs were trembling. I grabbed the
tile wall to steady myself.
Still silent out there.
I gathered up my courage and slowly, slowly poked my head out into the hall.
Empty.
I squinted toward Sara’s room in the yellow light.
No one there.
He’s in Sara’s room, I told myself. He’s doing something terrible in Sara’s
room. Something I’ll be blamed for.
Not this time, Slappy! I silently vowed.
This time you’re going to be caught.
Pressing against the wall, I crept down the hall.
I stopped in Sara’s doorway.
The night-light was plugged in across from Sara’s room. The light was
brighter here.
I squinted into her bedroom. I could see the mural she had started to paint.
A beach scene. The ocean. A broad, yellow beach. Kites flying over the beach.
Kids building a sand castle in one corner. The mural was tacked up, nearly
covering the entire wall.
Where was Slappy?
I took a step into the room—and saw him.
Standing at her paint table.
I saw his big wooden hand fumble over the table of supplies. Then he grabbed
a paintbrush in one hand.
He raised and lowered the brush, as if pretending to paint the air.
Then I saw him dip the paintbrush in a jar of paint.
Slappy took a step toward the mural. Then another step.
He stood for a moment, admiring the mural.
He raised the paintbrush high.
That’s when I burst into the room.
I dove toward the dummy just as he raised the paintbrush to the mural.
I grabbed the paintbrush with one hand. Wrapped my other hand around his
waist. And tugged him back.
The dummy kicked both legs and tried to punch me with his fists.
“Hey—!” a startled voice shouted.
The light clicked on.
Slappy went limp on my arm. His head dropped. His arms and legs dangled to
the floor.
Sitting up in bed, Sara gaped at me in horror.
I saw her eyes stop at the paintbrush in my
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