Liar Liar by R.L. Stine Read Free Book Online

uttered a cry. My hand flew off his shoulder.
    And I stared in horror as the boy’s shoulder shrank under the sleeve of the black T-shirt. And his hand … his hand clenched in a tight fist … grew smaller … melted away … melted into the wrist.
    And then the arm curled like a fat snake. Boneless … no longer a human arm, it twisted and curled, and reached out for me like the tendril of a plant.
    â€œYou … you …you …” the boy choked out in a hoarse gasp.
    â€œHuh?” I gasped. I stepped back, trying to escape the curling tendril of an arm.
    He uttered a gurgling sound, tore off the headphones, and staggered toward me.
    I slapped my hand over my mouth to keep from screaming as his face began to change.
    The skin peeled away. Peeled off like onion skin … flaked away in chunks … until he had no skin.
    No skin on his face at all!
    His hair fell off in thick clumps. And then the pale skin flaked off his scalp. And now his whole head glowed bright red. Red and wet.
    Just like raw meat.
    His face was raw meat, chunks of meat, crisscrossed with bulging purple veins.
    His dark eyes stared out at me from wet sockets.
    No nose. Just two deep holes, two gaping nostrils carved into the meaty slab.
    â€œThe pain. It hurts,” he moaned.
    His whole face jiggled and throbbed.
    I staggered back. “What—what’s happening to you?” I stammered, raising my hands to shield myself from the hideous sight of his raw face. From his arm, wriggling in front of him like a pale snake.
    He tossed back his throbbing, glistening red face and uttered a shrill howl.
    And then he spun away—and took off, howling as he ran. And screaming at the top of his lungs, “Help! Help!”
    I grabbed my stomach. I felt sick.
    What just happened? I wondered, hugging myself, trying to stop trembling.
    I shook my head to try to clear it.
    But I couldn’t force the picture of the kid’s face from my mind. The throbbing red meat, glistening and wet. The purple veins pulsing in his choppy face.
    â€œI’ve got to get away from here!” I said out loud. I started to jog—but another sharp pain shot through my head.
    On fire, I thought. My head is on fire!
    I grabbed my head with both hands. Stab after stab of pain made me cry out. I shut my eyes. I pressed my hands tighter over my throbbing head.
    Once again the pain stopped as abruptly as it had started.
    I shook my head hard. I saw the little grocery store up ahead. It’ll be cool inside, I decided.
    And normal.
    Please, I pleaded silently, let everything be normal again.
    The store was nearly empty. A couple of teenagers were discussing candy bars at the front counter. A boy was trying to get his friend to buy a Zigfruit bar. His friend said only freaks buy Zigfruits. He was sticking with Four Musketeers.
    Zigfruits? Four Musketeers?
    Since when did they add another musketeer?
    I picked a carton of milk off the shelf and carried it to the woman behind the counter. “Is that all?” she asked.
    I nodded. “Yes. Just the milk.”
    I shoved the carton across the counter.
    And felt the cardboard carton melt away in my hand.
    The milk poured out, steaming … making a loud hissing sound.
    â€œOh!” I gasped as the hissing milk poured out in thick lumps. It spread over the counter. Bubbling … steaming … turning bright yellow.
    A sick, sour smell rose up from the yellow clots.
    The shocked woman gazed down at the steaming mess. Then raised her eyes to me—frightened eyes—and opened her mouth in a scream: “GET OUT! OUT! GET OUT OF HERE!”
    â€œS-sorry!” I choked out. My stomach lurched from the sick smell. I gagged. Spun away from the counter—and staggered outside.
    I stumbled to the curb, feeling dazed, sick. I glimpsed the two guys from the store, holding strange candy bars, staring at me from the doorway.
    â€œHey—!” I called to them. My legs