Bad Dreams by R.L. Stine Read Free Book Online Page A

“Andrea!”
    â€œAre you okay?” Andrea’s features showed her concern.
    â€œAndrea!” Maggie murmured. “I keep thinking you’re the one in the dream. I keep mistaking you—Why?”
    Andrea squeezed Maggie’s hand. “You’re not making any sense. Get yourself together, Maggie. You’re
scaring
me.”
    â€œS-sorry,” Maggie stammered. She pulled herself up and shook her head as if trying to shake the dream away.
    â€œYou were moaning and making all these frightening cries,” Andrea whispered. “I thought I’d better wake you.”
    Maggie swallowed hard. Her mouth was dry. She covered her face with her hands. “Wow.”
    â€œAnother nightmare?” Andrea asked, settling down on the edge of the bed.
    â€œNo,” Maggie replied through her hands. “Same one I had the other night. Only this time—”
    â€œWhat?”
    Maggie shut her eyes, picturing the dream again. “This time the girl got stabbed! It was so awful. She was being stabbed, and I—I couldn’t do anything about it.”
    â€œWho stabbed her?” Andrea asked.
    â€œI don’t know. I couldn’t see.”
    â€œIt’s like a horror movie,” Andrea said.
    â€œYeah. Only it’s playing right in my head.”
    They sat in silence for a moment. Not total silence. The rickety old house was full of quiet sounds—creaks and cracks.
    â€œDid my cries wake you?” Maggie asked, her voice still shaky.
    â€œNah,” Andrea said. “I was up. I couldn’t sleep. I went downstairs for a glass of water—and guess where Gus is sleeping?”
    â€œNext to the rocking chair?”
    Andrea nodded.
    â€œDumb old Gus,” Maggie murmured affectionately.
    Officially, Gus was Maggie’s dog. But really, Gus had been Mr. Travers’s dog. Wherever Mr. Traverswas, that was where you’d find Gus, sleeping with his head on Mr. Travers’s lap or feet.
    Mr. Travers liked to read in the rocking chair at night, and so that was still Gus’s favorite spot to snooze.
    From somewhere in the house came the sound of something snapping. Maggie jumped.
    â€œRelax, will you?” Andrea cried. “You’re getting
me
scared.”
    â€œI hate this house,” Maggie admitted suddenly.
    â€œYou’re not the only one.”
    â€œI feel like it’s haunted.”
    â€œPlease,” Andrea begged. “I’ll be up all night.”
    â€œNo, you won’t. You’re not the one having nightmares.”
    â€œMaggie, you’ve got to calm down. Don’t start losing it. It’s only a dream.”
    Maggie wasn’t listening. In her head the dream started to replay itself. Something was bothering her—teasing at the edges of her memory.
    What was it? What was she trying to picture? She couldn’t quite get a hold on it.
    Andrea stood up. She ran her finger down one of the bedposts. “See? I told you you should’ve let me have this bed. It’s bad luck. And it’s giving you nightmares.”
    Maggie stared at her as if she hadn’t heard. “The bed …” she said. That was it! She reached out and grabbed her sister’s hand. “Andrea, you’re right! The girl in the dream, the girl in trouble? She was sleeping in this bed!”
    â€œThat’s spooky,” Andrea admitted. “And she got…”
    She let the question trail off. Maggie finished it for her. “Stabbed,” she murmured softly. “With a knife. Over and over. Don’t you see? I
knew
it was too good to be true,” Maggie moaned unhappily.
    â€œWhat was?”
    â€œThe owners just leaving this beautiful bed behind. There had to be something wrong with it.”
    Andrea shook her head. “This isn’t like you, Maggie.”
    â€œSomething is wrong here,” Maggie whispered, thinking out loud. “I can feel it.”
    â€œDid you see