The Five Masks of Dr. Screem (10 page)

Screem’s white hair fell over his forehead. He brushed it back with one sleeve. He tucked the mummy mask under his arm with the other two masks. Then he grinned at Bella.

“Surprise, Belladonna!” he cried. “I have the masks, and I’ve come back to
destroy
you!”

She gaped at him in horror. Her face was as pale as flour. Her chin trembled.

Above his square beard, Screem’s grin grew wider. “I forgot. You don’t like surprise guests — do you!” he boomed.

“I — I —” Bella seemed too upset to speak. “The boy —” she choked out.

“He believed me,” Screem replied. “The boy realized I was telling the truth. So down in my tunnel in the graveyard, he and I traded places.”

“I … told him you were a liar,” Bella said. She kept clenching and unclenching her gloved fists.

“It wasn’t hard to make the boy see who the
real
liar is,” Screem said.

Screem turned suddenly. Without warning, he grabbed my shoulders.

I gasped. “What are you
doing
?” I cried.

His hands moved to the masks over my face. Carefully, he slid them off one by one.

Now he grasped all five masks in his hands.

“The masks are mine,” Screem said. “Belladonna, the world is safe from your evil for another year.”

She scowled at me. Her eyes flamed with rage. “Monica, your brother
betrayed
me. Do you think I won’t punish you both?”

Screem stepped in front of me. “You won’t do any punishing this year,” he told her. “Did you really think you could confuse me by sending two
children
this time? You’re a bigger loser than I thought.”

“
AAAAGGGGGGH
!”

Belladonna opened her mouth in a scream of fury. A wild animal cry.

She leaped at Screem. Lowered her shoulder and shoved him back on the kitchen counter.

Then with another angry cry, she grabbed the masks from Screem’s hands.

He bounced up from the counter. He spread his arms like an attacking bear. He flung himself at Belladonna.

The masks fell from her hands.

They both dove for them at once.

“Mine! Mine! Mine!” she kept screeching.

But Screem came up with the masks.

As he tried to tuck them under the white karate uniform, Belladonna wrapped her arms around his middle. She struggled to wrestle him to the floor.

Screem staggered back, off balance.

“Mine! Mine! Mine!” Belladonna repeated.

They both dropped to the floor, wrestling, struggling, scratching at each other. They groaned and grunted and shouted as they fought.

They rolled across the kitchen floor. Toward the big window. Into a patch of morning sunlight.

Yes. The sun was high in the sky now.

And as Screem and Belladonna rolled into the bright sunlight, I saw a flash of white light.

Blinding white light. Like a powerful explosion.

I shut my eyes.

I could still see the light on my eyelids.

And when I finally opened my eyes, the two of them were gone. And the masks had vanished with them.

Screem and Belladonna — both disappeared into the sunlight. Their screams still rang in my ears.

I felt dazed. I struggled to clear my mind, to think straight. And as I did, a wave of cold fear ran down my body.

And a terrifying question pushed its way into my mind:

Where is Peter?

What became of my brother?

Would I ever see him again? Or had he vanished like Screem … like Belladonna? Like our parents?

I wrapped my arms around myself. I felt cold despite the warm sunlight washing into the kitchen.

The silence rang in my ears, a hollow sound. And then I jumped when I heard the thud of footsteps. In the front hall.

I turned — and saw the purple robe.

Screem? Had he returned?

No. Peter grinned at me. He stepped into the kitchen and did a funny tap dance. “Tah-DAH!”

“Peter? That robe —” I uttered. “You —”

“Fits me perfectly,” he said. “But I don’t think I’ll wear it to school.”

“How — how can you stand there making jokes?” I stammered.

He shrugged. “Halloween is over, right? And we’re alive.”

I rushed up to him. I had a million questions. “Where were you? Why didn’t you come back here with Screem?”

“He told me not to show myself until it was bright sunshine,” Peter answered. “He said it would all be over by then. And we’d be safe.”

“Oh, wow. Oh, wow.” I was so happy to see him, I nearly hugged him.

“Peter, it’s morning,” I said. I grabbed him by the shoulders. “Mom and Dad. They must be out of their minds worrying about us. They probably have the police out looking for us.”

Peter’s smile faded. “
If
they’re back,” he said softly.

His words sent a chill down my back. “Halloween is over,” I said. “Belladonna and Screem are gone. That means everything is back to normal. Everything …”

I sighed. “Our house
has
to be back, Peter,” I cried. “Mom and Dad
have
to be back.”

We didn’t say another word. We ran down the hall and out the front door. We didn’t even bother to close the door behind us.

Our shoes thudded down the gravel driveway, past the tall hedges to the street. Cars rolled past. Two little kids were in the yard across the street, jumping up and down in a pile of dead leaves.

A normal Saturday morning.

Yes. Normal. A woman opened her front door and let her dog run out. A white mail truck turned the corner. The two little kids waved to it.

Normal.

We turned the corner onto our block. We ran past the empty field, past two houses.

I couldn’t see our house. Trees stood in the way.

My heart was pounding so hard, I could barely breathe. Running was too slow. I wanted to leap into the air and
fly
to our house.

Finally, we were there. Finally, we could see….

“OH, NOOOOOO!” I wailed.

Behind me, I heard Peter utter a scream.

“Noooooo.”

Still an empty field. I stared up at the ragged lawn. Nothing but tall grass and weeds.

No house. No parents.

My whole body sagged. My knees folded. I dropped to the wet ground.

Gone. Everything. Still gone.

“What are we going to do? What are we going to do?”

Peter kept repeating the same words over and over. Each time his voice got more shrill.

He stood staring up to where the house should be. His hands were pressed tightly to the sides of his face.

“Halloween is over,” he said. “Everything is supposed to be back to normal. Everything …” His voice trailed off.

My brain was spinning. This couldn’t be happening.

Bella and Screem were gone. The world should be back to normal.

Think, Monica…
.
Think
!

I tugged Peter’s arm. “Come with me,” I said. “I think I just figured out how to bring back Mom and Dad.”

He held back. “Where are we going?” he asked.

“Back to Bella’s house,” I said.

“Anyone home?” I called. Peter and I huddled tensely in the front hallway.

No answer.

I peered into the living room. No one there. Nothing changed. Except for the bright golden sunlight pouring through the front window.

“Bella and Screem are totally gone,” Peter said. “But this house is creepy even when it’s empty. It’s like the air is haunted or something.”

I nodded. “Don’t think about it,” I said in a whisper. “Follow me. We have to find
The Hallows Book
.”

We hurried through the living room to the library at the back. Shelves were still overturned. We stepped over the books scattered on the floor.

“Why do you want that old book?” Peter asked.

“I have an idea,” I told him.

It didn’t take long to find it. It was tucked onto a small bottom shelf. But it was so big, it stuck out into the room.

The old book weighed a ton. Peter helped me carry it to the long table in the center of the room. Dust flew up when we dropped it to the table.

“Help me turn it over,” I said. “I want to start at the back.”

The heavy cover was stained and bumpy. One of the corners was torn away.

It took us a while to get a good grip. Then we flipped the book onto its front.

I leaned over the table and opened the back cover. The book smelled musty, like the back of an old closet. I held my nose to keep from sneezing.

Then I lifted the pages until I found the end of the book.

“Peter, listen to this,” I said. And I read the last paragraphs out loud:

“
Bella and Screem vanished in the sunlight
.
Peter and Monica ran home
.
But their home was not returned
.

“
They had saved the world from Belladonna’s evil
.
But their parents were gone
.
And the two kids were doomed to live without them
.”

Peter shook his head sadly. “It’s all there,” he said. His voice cracked. “It’s in the book. Mom and Dad are gone.”

“Maybe not,” I said. “Maybe I can change every thing.”

I found a pen on the floor. I picked it up and leaned over
The Hallows Book
. My hand started to tremble. But I steadied it and lowered it to the page.

I crossed out the last lines of the story, the words I had read to Peter. And then the
marking pen scratched over the rough paper as I wrote in a new ending….

The house returned
.
The parents were okay
.
It was Halloween night again
.
And Monica and Peter returned home with their trick-or-treat bags full
.

They forgot everything that had happened to them
.
Their horrifying memories were wiped clean
.
And they returned happily to their normal lives
.

I let out a long sigh. Then I read my new ending to Peter. “What do you think?” I asked.

He stared hard at me. “I don’t know,” he said finally. “Do you really think that will work?”

I blinked. And let out a cry.

Sudden darkness fell over the room.

It took a few seconds for me to realize why the sunlight had disappeared. I rushed to the front window and gazed out. The half-moon stood high in the black sky. It was night again.

“Peter — let’s go,” I said.

We ran out of the dark house. I gasped when Peter stepped into the light. He was dressed in his white karate uniform again. And he held his bulging trick-or-treat bag tightly in one fist.

I glanced up at the moon. “It must be late,” I said.

Peter turned to the enormous house behind us. “Whose house is this?” he asked. “What are we doing here?”

I turned to follow his gaze. “I — I don’t remember,” I said.

We ran home. We passed a few trick-or-treaters. Mostly older kids who could stay out
late. A big yellow-orange jack-o’-lantern grinned at us from a front stoop as we followed the sidewalk to our block.

All the lights were on in our house. The front door opened as Peter and I ran up the middle of the lawn. Mom and Dad were both waiting at the door.

“We were a little worried,” Mom said. “You usually don’t stay out this late.”

“We hit a few more houses,” I said. I rolled my eyes. “Peter’s idea — not mine.”

He raised his trick-or-treat bag. “Check it out.”

Dad reached for the bag. “You
are
going to share this year — right?”

“Yeah. Right,” Peter said. He pulled the bag out of Dad’s reach and trotted up the stairs.

I followed him up to his room. We always dump our candy on the floor, divide it up, and make trades.

Peter stepped into the center of the room. He raised his big trick-or-treat bag over his head and turned it upside down.

A few pieces of candy came falling out. But then … then …

… Five ugly rubber masks toppled out of the bag. They hit the floor and all landed faceup.

I stepped back. I couldn’t take my eyes off them. They were all so horrible looking.

“Peter — what are those? Wh-where did you get them?” I stammered.

He shrugged. “I … don’t know.”

The five masks appeared to gaze up at me. And at that moment, it all came back to me.

“Noooooo!” I screamed as the masks opened their gaping mouths wide — and began to laugh.

Well, Monica, your Halloween story is a real SCREAM, no matter how you spell it.

Are you sure that story has been repeating itself for one hundred years? You don’t look a day over ninety-eight!

Ha-ha. I know. I know. You’re only twelve. I like to have my little joke. You know the old rhyme — a laugh a day keeps the werewolves away.

So try laughing on your way out. Maybe you’ll be luckier than my last visitor.

Thank you for bringing your story to me. I am the Story-Keeper. And I will keep your story here in the Hall of Horrors where it belongs.

And now, we have a new guest. Come right in, young man.

What is your name? Matt Krinsky?

You appear so tired, Matt. Why are you staggering like that? You look
dead on your feet
.

Has anyone told you you look like a
zombie
?

Come in. Come in. Stagger this way. There’s plenty of room in the Hall of Horrors. You know…. There’s Always Room for One More Scream.

Ready for More?

Here’s another tale from the Hall of Horrors:

WHY I QUIT
ZOMBIE SCHOOL