Beware, the Snowman by R. L. Stine Read Free Book Online

corner. Then I tugged off my parka and dropped it onto the couch.
    My eyes stopped at the door to Aunt Greta’s bedroom.
    The door stood open. Darkness beyond the door.
    I quickly made my way across the room and peeked into my aunt’s bedroom.
“Aunt Greta?” I called softly.
    No reply.
    I stepped into the room. “Aunt Greta? Are you in here?”
    I fumbled at the lamp on her dresser and finally managed to click it on.
    “Aunt Greta—?”
    No. Not in bed. Not in her room.
    “Aunt Greta—are you home?” I called loudly.
    I headed out of her room. “Ohh!” I cried out when I stepped in something.
    Something cold and wet soaked through my sock.
    “Huh?” I lowered my gaze to see a wide puddle of cold water on the bedroom
floor.
    “How did that get there?” I murmured.
    I suddenly felt worried.
    “Aunt Greta?” I called, hurrying back into the living room. “Aunt Greta?
Where are you?”

 
 
20
     
     
    Panic swept over me.
    Where could she be?
    I started for the kitchen—when a rattling at the front door made me stop.
    Was someone breaking in?
    I gasped as the door slowly creaked open.
    And Aunt Greta came bustling in, brushing snow off her long, black coat. She
smiled at me. But her smile instantly died when she saw my expression.
    “Jaclyn—what’s wrong?”
    “I—I—I—” I sputtered. “Aunt Greta—where were you? I got so
scared.”
    She pulled off her coat. “Didn’t you see my note?”
    “Huh? Note?”
    “I left it for you on the refrigerator,” she said. “I met a nice couple this
morning at the general store. They came by and invited me over for dessert and
coffee.”
    “Oh. That’s nice,” I choked out. My heart still pounded in my chest.
    “Why did you get scared?” Aunt Greta demanded, hanging her coat in the front
closet. She straightened her long, white braid behind her sweater.
    “Well, I was in your room. Looking for you. And I stepped in a cold puddle on
the floor,” I replied.
    “Puddle? Show me,” Aunt Greta demanded.
    I led the way to the bedroom and pointed to the wide wet spot on the floor.
Aunt Greta gazed up at the ceiling. “Maybe the roof leaks,” she murmured. “We’ll
have to examine it tomorrow morning.”
    “I—I thought it was the snowman,” I blurted out. “I know it’s crazy, but I
thought he had been here. I thought he’d broken into the house and—”
    I stopped when I saw the shock on my aunt’s face. Her mouth dropped open and
she uttered a silent gasp.
    “Jaclyn—what are you talking about?” she demanded. “What have your friends
been telling you? More nonsense about a snowman?”
    “Yes,” I confessed. “Rolonda and Eli, the two village kids I met. They both
told me a crazy story about a living snowman who stays in an ice cave at the top
of the mountain. They said—”
    “It’s all superstition,” Aunt Greta interrupted. “It’s all old tales that have been handed down. None of it is true. You’re
smart enough to know that, Jaclyn.”
    “Yes,” I agreed. “But Rolonda and Eli seem so frightened. They really believe
the story. And Eli begged me not to go up to the ice cave.”
    “Probably good advice,” Aunt Greta said. She crossed the room and placed a
hand tenderly on my shoulder. “You probably shouldn’t go up to the mountaintop,
dear,” she said softly.
    “Why not?” I demanded.
    “There must be some kind of real danger up there,” she replied. “Not a living
snowman. But something else dangerous.”
    She sighed. “That’s how these old stories get started. Something bad happened
on the mountaintop. Then the story changed each time it was told. Years later,
no one remembers what really happened. And now everyone believes a crazy
story about a living snowman.”
    She shook her head.
    “Have you seen all the strange snowmen in this village?” I asked her. “All
the snowmen with scars on their faces and red scarves? Don’t you think they’re
spooky?”
    “It’s a strange village