Tales from the Haunted Mansion Vol. 1: The Fearsome Foursome (14 page)

The librarian acquiesced. “A strange coincidence. Death imitating art. Or is it art imitating death? I never can get that right.”

Like the others, Noah was demanding answers. “What do you want from us?” he shouted in a voice that would do Philip proud.

“What do I want? I thought I made that perfectly clear.” The librarian made a sweeping gesture with his hand, alluding to his books. “Tales such as your own were meant to be heard.”

At that point, the others were no longer looking for a way out. Not even Willa, a revelation which pleased the librarian to no end. “You’ve decided to stay?”

“Do we have a choice?” Willa asked, already knowing the answer. She was nobody’s fool. “None of us can leave until we hear the last story. That’s how it works, isn’t it?”

The librarian lit a candle and looked at them with a calm expression. “I suppose, I suppose.”

Steve got up in his face. He was red with anger. Or maybe terror. “All right, old man, get it over with! Read mine!”

“Do I
dare
?” questioned the librarian, wearing a considerably sinister grimace, for the librarian was harboring a grave secret all his own. Yes, they were nearing that part of the evening he enjoyed the most.

He opened to the final tale and began to read….

A fate
worse
than death. Think about that. It has to be pretty bad to beat dying. The eternal sleep. Kicking the bucket. Whatever they call it around your house. Let’s indulge in a little list of what some of these fiendish delights might be.

Let’s see….Getting eaten alive. That should qualify. Whittled down to the bone by a shark, or a bear. Or worse, a school of hungry piranha. “Yum-yum.”

How about a dip in boiling acid? Feeling the flesh melt from your bones. “Mind if I skip my bath tonight, Mother?”

Or paper cut torture. Hours upon hours of…Well, I suppose that one’s self-explanatory, right? There are countless fates worse than plain old death. Why not make a list of your own? Go on. We’ll wait.

But near the top of everyone’s list—at least for those of us who think about such things—is the terror of being buried alive. It has been since the beginning of human existence. Think about it for a moment. You wake up in a coffin. Can’t see a thing. There is no light. You can barely move. It’s a very tight fit. All there is to do, once you realize what’s happening, is scream. And nobody can hear you—that is, except for the worms. And all you’ve done is save them the job of finding you. That would unequivocally be a fate worse than death.

It is also the subject of our final tale. Therefore, if you find the thought of being buried alive objectionable or the subject matter distasteful, by all means, go read
Sallie’s Silly Sewing Circle
.

Still here, foolish reader? Very well, I warned you.

S
teve, Steve, Steve.
He had that reputation to protect. It might have been the wavy black hair. Or the roguish smile. Yet in reality, Steve never got into fights or did any of those things bad boys were generally known for. He didn’t deny that he did them, either, which was how he kept his rep intact. The same way he didn’t announce his loyalty to the Fearsome Foursome. The fact that Steve was a reader, and that he liked to invent stories, did not go hand in hand with being one of the cool kids. Or the king of dares, as he was known throughout the school.

What exactly is a king of dares? Well, it’s not a position you’re born into. Or elected to. It’s a title you have to earn.

It started innocently enough, as a game to pass the time during recess. Each day, students gathered for a round of “I Dare You to…” It’s sort of like Truth or Dare, if you’re familiar with that. The first player poses a challenge, which the other player has to decide whether or not to accept. The dares were usually pretty harmless (or dumb, take your pick). They ranged from hopping on one foot around the lunchroom to saying something borderline inappropriate to Ms. Greene, the uptight health teacher. So far, no one had gotten into any real trouble. Although Andy Kenderson did receive an in-school suspension for picking his nose while placing his lunch order. Yet, it’s important to note, Andy won the dare.

But this is Steve’s story. Steve-o to his pals. The once and future king of dares. You see, Steve never backed away from a challenge. Not once. Not ever.

That is, until Roland Price moved to town. Now, we always hear how hard it is for a new kid entering a new school, but that wasn’t the case for Roland, or Rolly, as he was known. It wasn’t that he was particularly good at sports. Or that he was fast with a joke, or that he had the hottest looks. In any of those departments, Rolly Price could be generously described as average. But it was during recess that his true gifts came to the forefront. You see, Rolly Price had no fear—not of anything. It might have had something to do with moving around so much—eleven schools in eight years—but nothing scared him. Well, almost nothing. We’ll get to that.

If you dared Rolly to swallow a worm, he’d do it and then make a yummy face, suggesting he liked it. Hopping around the lunchroom? Kids’ stuff. Rolly once crab-walked into the principal’s office to ask the time.

The kids at recess hooted and hollered. Even Ellie, the petite cheerleader Steve had spent an entire semester trying to woo, had officially declared Rolly the new king of dares.

Yes, Steve had been dethroned. Every challenge he threw Rolly’s way was taken on and mastered. Staring contests, silent treatments, breath holding, musical note holding, eating, drinking, wedgies, nose picking—you name it. Rolly Price out-dared him at every turn. And that’s what pushed Steve to a place he never should have gone. To the ultimate dare—a dare that would cost him more than his silly little title.

But first Steve needed to discover Rolly’s weakness, if a weakness actually existed. He spent several days and nights racking his brains. What could it be? He tried everything there was to try and was at his wit’s end when the fearful finger of fate intervened. Steve was by his locker just before eighth period when Tim ran over with the news. “You hear what happened to Rolly today? He got stuck in the janitor’s closet and totally freaked out.”

At first Steve was concerned. “Is he okay?”

“Oh, yeah, he’s fine. It was only for, like, a minute or two. But when the janitor unlocked the door, Rolly flew out screaming. He could hardly walk—he didn’t even know where he was.”

“For real?”

“For real.” And that was when Tim provided Steve with the gift he’d been looking for. “Rolly told the janitor—get this—that he suffers from extreme claustrophobia!”

Extreme claustrophobia. Yesssss!
Steve was giddy beyond words. Rolly Price had a weakness after all: a fear of tight spaces. Immediately, the wheels started turning. All he needed was the perfect dare, one Rolly couldn’t complete even if he wanted to. A ghoulish idea entered Steve’s mind. He had just the challenge. A real doozy.

The next day during recess, the current king of dares was holding court by the swings. Steve had been spying from behind the bleachers, and he saw Ellie laughing at one of Rolly’s recycled jokes and another dude nodding, as if Rolly really was the most popular kid in school. It was time to take him down.
Like in the good old days, a king was about to be beheaded.

Steve approached the swings with a bit of the old swagger that usually got him noticed. Except that day, the only one who saw him coming was Rolly. “Yo, Steve-o. S’up?”

“Nothing but the sky, Rolly.” Crickets. Not even a sympathy chuckle. Steve quickly dispensed with the pleasantries. “You up for a final round?”

The other kids scattered like it was the Old West and a shoot-out was imminent.

Rolly remained where he was, a king on his swinging throne. As cool as a corpse. “How many times, Steve-o? How many times you need to be defeated in public?”

“That mean you’re scared?”

You could literally have heard a pin drop, but seriously, who brings a pin to recess? Rolly hopped down from the swing. He was smaller than Steve, but you wouldn’t know it. Confidence made him a giant. “I suggest taking off before you lose what little rep you got left.”

Steve shook his head. “Guess that means you really
are
scared.”

If he was, Rolly didn’t show it. “Name it. Right now. Throw down your best dare.”

“I really don’t think you could handle it, Roll. We all heard about the closet.”

The others looked at Steve, and somebody yelled out, “Shots fired!” Steve gave Rolly a condescending pat on the head. From the corner of his eye, he saw Ellie climb down from the monkey bars. Steve must have had something “real” in mind, or he wouldn’t have posed the challenge in front of everyone. And Rolly wasn’t stupid. He knew it would be based on his fear of tight spaces. But he also knew that if he chickened out, he’d lose everything he’d gained; he’d be nothing more than the new kid again.

Steve headed for the blacktop and Rolly followed, an entourage of students in tow. “On one condition!” Rolly declared.

Steve didn’t slow up. “Oh, yeah? What’s that?”

“Winner takes all. The loser has to admit defeat in front of the entire school.”

“Naturally.”

“And one more thing…”