Fright Christmas by R.L. Stine Read Free Book Online

and crawled—until I spotted a clearing ahead. A patch where it didn’t seem to be snowing!
    With my head down, I crawled some more, pushing against the wind.
    I crawled until I felt something soft under my hands. Something warm and dry!
    I wiped the snow from my cheeks, from my eyelashes. Only it wasn’t snow. It was—feathers!
    I gazed up.
    I was back in Dalby’s!
    Back in the bedding department—crouched on my hands and knees in the bed!
    What is going on?
    The bedding department looked as if it had been struck by a blizzard. The curtains, towels, quilts, and bath mats were scattered everywhere—all coated with a white blanket of feathers and foam.
    Everything—buried under what looked like a heavy snowfall.
    I shuddered.
    I knew now that I definitely wasn’t dreaming.
    Everything that happened was real. Even the ghosts—both of them—were real ghosts.
    I have to get out of here, fast. Before the third ghost comes.
    I swung my feet to the floor—and I started to yawn.
    My eyelids drooped.
    â€œNo!” I cried. “Not now! Not again!”
    I slapped my face. “Wake up!” I yelled.
    It wasn’t working.
    I yawned again—and curled up on the bed.
    My cheek touched the cool, smooth pillow. “I can’t let myself—” I mumbled as my eyes closed.
    Then I drifted off to sleep.
    WHAM!
    I woke with a start and jerked up in the bed.
    Bright lights flashed before my eyes!
    Red! Yellow! Green!
    On and off! On and off!
    Crazy music blared.
    â€œDeck your grave with boughs of hemlock!” a high voice shrieked. “Fa-la-la-la-la!”
    I checked my wristwatch.
    Twelve—midnight!
    My heart hammered in my chest.
    The third ghost had arrived!

16

    I leaped off the bed.
    Run! Run for your life!
    I tore down the aisle.
    I charged through the store. I ran through a department I hadn’t been in before. I passed dummies wearing tennis outfits, ski parkas, and bathing suits. The sportswear department.
    I skidded to a stop. Could I hide here?
    â€œStay, Kenny!” someone whispered.
    I spun around. “Who—who’s there?”
    â€œDon’t be a jerk!” A different voice this time. “Get out of here! Now!”
    â€œWho is that? Where are you?”
    I broke out into a sweat.
    â€œWhy don’t you answer me!” I demanded.
    I squinted in the darkness. The dim red light of the exit signs cast their eerie glow on everything—the clothes, the counters, the dummies.
    The dummies.
    I stared hard at the dummies.
    They seemed to stare back at me, with dull eyes and blank faces.
    I stared at them harder.
    I stared at the dummy right next to me—dressed in a golf outfit, holding a golf club.
    Then I saw it.
    I saw one of its arms begin to move.
    I glanced up at its face. A slow smile spread across its lips. Then its club whipped out at me.
    I ducked.
    The club whizzed by my head. Struck a counter and shattered the glass.
    THWAAAK!
    It came at me again.
    â€œIt’s hopeless, Kenny,” a dummy behind me whispered. “You’re doomed, no matter which way you go!”
    I gazed at the dummies in horror.
    They stirred and wriggled. They moaned and blinked their eyes.
    They were all coming to life!
    I staggered backward. “Are you doing this, Iceman? Night Watchman, is it you?”
    Or was it the ghost I hadn’t met yet? The third ghost.
    The dummy in the ski parka stretched out its arms. It moved one stiff leg. Then the other. With rigid, jerky steps, it staggered off the platform.
    It headed straight for me. Its glassy eyes stared into my eyes.
    Then, in one swift movement, it lifted its ski pole and hurled it at me like a javelin.
    I dodged it just in time. The pole grazed my head and slammed into the wall behind me. Stuck there, harpoonlike.
    I ran down the aisle—and skidded to a sudden stop.
    A group of dummies stood waiting for me. Blocking my path.
    â€œI—I’m not afraid of