Read Online The Scarecrow Walks at Midnight by R. L. Stine - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: R. L. Stine
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yet. But …” His voice trailed off.
“But what?” I demanded eagerly.
“Some of the scarecrows are still alive,” Sticks replied. “Some of them never went back to sleep.”
23
We both let out short cries as the front door to the house swung open.
Startled, I leaped away from the doorway.
As the door pulled open, it revealed a rectangle of orange light. Stanley stepped into the light.
He held on to the door and peered out. His eyes showed surprise as they landed on Sticks and me. But then he goggled and uttered a choking sound as he spotted the headless scarecrow on the ground.
“N-no!” Stanley sputtered. He pointed a trembling finger at the scarecrow. “It — it walks! The scarecrow walks!”
“No, Dad!” Sticks cried.
But Stanley didn’t hear him. Stanley had already dived back into the house.
Sticks started after him. But Stanley reappeared in the doorway. As he stepped outside, I saw that he was carrying the big superstition book.
“The scarecrows walk!” Stanley screamed. “I must take charge! I must take charge of them all now!”
His eyes were wild. His entire skinny body was trembling. He started toward the cornfields, totally crazy. Sticks tried to calm him down.
“No, Dad!” Sticks cried desperately, hurrying after him. “The scarecrow was dropped here! I dropped it here, Dad! It didn’t walk! It didn’t walk!”
Stanley kept walking, taking long, rapid strides. He didn’t seem to hear Sticks. “I must take charge now!” Stanley declared. “I must be the leader. I will bring the others back to life and take control.”
He turned and glanced at Sticks, who was hurrying to catch up to him. “Stay back!” Stanley shouted. “Stay back — until I read the chant! Then you can follow!”
“Dad — please listen to me!” Sticks cried. “The scarecrows are all asleep! Don’t wake them!”
Stanley finally stopped a few yards from the edge of the cornfields. He turned to Sticks and studied his face. “You’re sure? You’re sure they’re not out of my control? You’re sure they’re not walking?”
Sticks nodded. “Yes. I’m sure, Dad. I’m really sure.”
Stanley’s face filled with confusion. He kept staring hard at Sticks, as if not believing him. “Idon’t have to read the chant?” Stanley asked, confused, his eyes on the swaying cornstalks. “I don’t have to take charge?”
“No, Dad,” Sticks replied softly. “The scarecrows are all still. You can put the book away. The scarecrows are not moving.”
Stanley sighed with relief. He lowered the book to his side. “None of them?” he asked warily.
“None of them,” Sticks replied soothingly.
And that’s when Mark — in full scarecrow costume — decided to come staggering out of the cornfield.
24
“Where’ve you been?” Mark called.
Stanley’s eyes went wide, and he opened his mouth in a high shriek of terror.
“Dad, please!” Sticks pleaded.
Too late.
Stanley took off, heading into the cornfields, the big book raised high in front of him. “The scarecrows walk! They walk!” he cried.
Mark tucked at the burlap bag face. “Did we blow it?” he called. “Is the joke over? What’s happening?”
There was no time to answer him.
Sticks turned to me, his features tight with fear. “We’ve got to stop Dad!” he cried. He started running to the swaying cornstalks.
Stanley had already disappeared between the tall rows of corn.
My allergies were really bad. I kept rubbing my eyes, trying to clear them. But as I followedSticks, everything was a shimmering blur of grays and blacks.
“Ow!” I cried out as I stumbled in a soft hole and fell.
Mark, right behind me, nearly toppled over me.
He reached down and helped pull me up. I had landed hard on both knees, and they were throbbing with pain.
“Which way did they go?” I asked breathlessly, searching the dark, swaying rows of creaking cornstalks.
“I — I’m not sure!” Mark stammered. “What’s going on, Jodie? Tell
“But what?” I demanded eagerly.
“Some of the scarecrows are still alive,” Sticks replied. “Some of them never went back to sleep.”
23
We both let out short cries as the front door to the house swung open.
Startled, I leaped away from the doorway.
As the door pulled open, it revealed a rectangle of orange light. Stanley stepped into the light.
He held on to the door and peered out. His eyes showed surprise as they landed on Sticks and me. But then he goggled and uttered a choking sound as he spotted the headless scarecrow on the ground.
“N-no!” Stanley sputtered. He pointed a trembling finger at the scarecrow. “It — it walks! The scarecrow walks!”
“No, Dad!” Sticks cried.
But Stanley didn’t hear him. Stanley had already dived back into the house.
Sticks started after him. But Stanley reappeared in the doorway. As he stepped outside, I saw that he was carrying the big superstition book.
“The scarecrows walk!” Stanley screamed. “I must take charge! I must take charge of them all now!”
His eyes were wild. His entire skinny body was trembling. He started toward the cornfields, totally crazy. Sticks tried to calm him down.
“No, Dad!” Sticks cried desperately, hurrying after him. “The scarecrow was dropped here! I dropped it here, Dad! It didn’t walk! It didn’t walk!”
Stanley kept walking, taking long, rapid strides. He didn’t seem to hear Sticks. “I must take charge now!” Stanley declared. “I must be the leader. I will bring the others back to life and take control.”
He turned and glanced at Sticks, who was hurrying to catch up to him. “Stay back!” Stanley shouted. “Stay back — until I read the chant! Then you can follow!”
“Dad — please listen to me!” Sticks cried. “The scarecrows are all asleep! Don’t wake them!”
Stanley finally stopped a few yards from the edge of the cornfields. He turned to Sticks and studied his face. “You’re sure? You’re sure they’re not out of my control? You’re sure they’re not walking?”
Sticks nodded. “Yes. I’m sure, Dad. I’m really sure.”
Stanley’s face filled with confusion. He kept staring hard at Sticks, as if not believing him. “Idon’t have to read the chant?” Stanley asked, confused, his eyes on the swaying cornstalks. “I don’t have to take charge?”
“No, Dad,” Sticks replied softly. “The scarecrows are all still. You can put the book away. The scarecrows are not moving.”
Stanley sighed with relief. He lowered the book to his side. “None of them?” he asked warily.
“None of them,” Sticks replied soothingly.
And that’s when Mark — in full scarecrow costume — decided to come staggering out of the cornfield.
24
“Where’ve you been?” Mark called.
Stanley’s eyes went wide, and he opened his mouth in a high shriek of terror.
“Dad, please!” Sticks pleaded.
Too late.
Stanley took off, heading into the cornfields, the big book raised high in front of him. “The scarecrows walk! They walk!” he cried.
Mark tucked at the burlap bag face. “Did we blow it?” he called. “Is the joke over? What’s happening?”
There was no time to answer him.
Sticks turned to me, his features tight with fear. “We’ve got to stop Dad!” he cried. He started running to the swaying cornstalks.
Stanley had already disappeared between the tall rows of corn.
My allergies were really bad. I kept rubbing my eyes, trying to clear them. But as I followedSticks, everything was a shimmering blur of grays and blacks.
“Ow!” I cried out as I stumbled in a soft hole and fell.
Mark, right behind me, nearly toppled over me.
He reached down and helped pull me up. I had landed hard on both knees, and they were throbbing with pain.
“Which way did they go?” I asked breathlessly, searching the dark, swaying rows of creaking cornstalks.
“I — I’m not sure!” Mark stammered. “What’s going on, Jodie? Tell
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