Nightmare Hour Read Free Page A

round, orange pumpkin rested on his shoulders.
    â€œMike--how did you get that pumpkin over your head?” I ran to him, shouting breathlessly. “Take that pumpkin off! We have to go! Let’s go! Why are you wearing that thing?”
    I didn’t wait for him to reply. I grabbed the pumpkin in both hands--and pulled it off his shoulders.
    Liz screamed first. A shrill scream of horror.
    I opened my mouth to scream but no sound came out.
    I still held the pumpkin. I stared at Mike’s shoulders.
    No head. No head on his shoulders.
    And then, my stomach lurching, chill after chill making my whole body shudder, I had to turn away.
    The pumpkin fell from my hands. And rolled. Rolled up against a long, slender vine.
    I stared at the vine. Followed it to the end.
    And saw my brother’s head. Mike’s head sprouting from the end of the vine .
    His dark eyes stared up at me. His mouth opened and closed as if trying to speak. His head quivered, then bounced hard as if trying to snap itself loose. But it was attached --growing from the vine!
    â€œOhhhhh.” A moan of horror escaped my throat.
    I couldn’t speak or breathe or move.
    My brother…my poor brother…
    And then I saw the others.
    Human heads…boys and girls…heads staring up at me from the ground…mouths opening and closing, silently begging for help…dozens of human heads, all sprouting from vines….
    Now I knew what had happened to those kids who had disappeared last Halloween and the Halloween before.
    As I stared at the hideous heads, I felt strong, thick vines stretching over my shoes, my ankles. I saw the vines reaching up off the ground, twisting around Liz, wrapping around her, pulling her down.
    I felt the vines tightening around my waist. Around my chest.
    But I couldn’t move.
    Even when Mr. Palmer appeared, I couldn’t move.
    I saw the smile on his orange-bearded face. Saw the deep, black, empty eyes. Watched him kneel down beside Mike’s head…Mike’s head on the vine.
    Cold, wet vines wrapped around my throat. Tighter…tighter…but I couldn’t cry out. I couldn’t move.
    Still grinning, Mr. Palmer spread his fingers over the top of Mike’s head and squeezed.
    â€œNot quite ripe,” he said. “But it’s getting there.”

Alien Candy
    INTRODUCTION
    ILLUSTRATED BY EDWARD KOREN
    A fter-school clubs were a big deal when I was in school. There were cool clubs that were hard to join. And nerdy clubs with only a few members, desperate for more recruits.
    I remembered these clubs when I began this story. It’s about Walter, a shy boy who isn’t terribly popular. Walter is very excited when he is asked to join a club. The kids seem really friendly--and they ask him to be club president!
    But as Walter calls his first meeting to order, he begins to wonder if he’s made a big mistake. A terrifying mistake. Maybe he should have checked the minutes of the last Alien Club meeting.
    W alter cleared his throat. He was always a little nervous around kids he didn’t know well.
    â€œI’d like to call this meeting of the Alien Club to order,” he said. He adjusted the square, black-framed glasses on his stubby nose and looked around Greg’s attic.
    The attic was long and narrow, with movie posters on the brightly painted walls and beanbag chairs facing a beatup red leather couch. What a perfect place for these kids to have their meetings, Walter thought.
    The boy named Greg sat on the old couch, between the two girls in the club, Bonnie and Natasha. Greg was blond and freckle faced and seemed very eager to impress the girls. He had a model of a Star Wars droid on his lap, and he was showing it off, demonstrating how it moved.
    Evan, a dark-haired older boy, sprawled in a beanbag chair, his nose buried in a Star Trek novel.
    â€œCome on, guys,” Walter pleaded. “Can we start? This is my first meeting, and I’m really eager to