37 - The Headless Ghost (8 page)

Stephanie landed on her knees. She shook her head, dazed.

Chunks of wall spilled all around us. Stephanie’s hair was covered in dust.

I shielded my eyes and waited for the wall to stop crumbling down.

When I opened my eyes, Andrew stood above me. His hands were balled into
fists. His mouth hung open. And he was staring… staring
past
me.

I struggled to my feet. Turned to see what he was staring at.

“A hidden room!” Stephanie cried, moving beside me. “A room behind the old
wall.”

Slipping over the chunks of broken concrete, I took a few steps closer to the
room.

And saw what Andrew was staring at.

A head.

A boy’s head lying on the floor of the hidden room.

“I don’t believe it!” Stephanie gasped. “We found it! We actually found it!”

I swallowed hard. And took a careful step forward.

The head was pale, shimmering white, even in the dim light.

I could see clearly that it was a boy’s head. But the long, wavy hair had
turned to white. The round eyes glowed green, sparkling like emeralds in the
shimmering, pale face.

“The ghost head,” I murmured.

I turned back to Andrew. “Your head—we found it for you.”

I expected to see a smile on his face. I expected him to shout or jump for
joy.

For a hundred years, he had waited for this happy moment. And now his long
search was over.

But to my shock, Andrew’s face was twisted in horror.

He wasn’t even looking at his long lost head. He stared above it. And as he
stared, his entire body began to quiver. Frightened cries escaped his lips.

“Andrew—what is your problem?” I demanded.

But I don’t think he even heard me.

He stared up at the ceiling, trembling. Hands balled into tight fists at his
sides. Then, slowly, he raised one hand and pointed. “Nooooo,” he moaned.
“Ohhhh, nooooooo.”

I turned to see what had frightened him.

Turned in time to see a filmy figure float down from the ceiling.

At first I thought it was a thin window curtain, falling from above.

But as it curled slowly, softly to the floor, I saw that it had arms. And
legs.

I could see right through it!

The air around us suddenly grew cold.

“It—it’s a
ghost
!” Stephanie cried, grabbing my arm.

The ghost landed softly, silently on the floor of the hidden room, raising
its arms like bird wings.

Stephanie and I both gasped as it raised its arms and stood upright.

It was short and very thin. It wore baggy, old-fashioned-looking pants and a
long-sleeved shirt with a high collar.

A high collar.

A collar.

And no head.

The ghost had no head!

I felt a burst of cold air as it bent down, shimmering, bending, as if made
of soft gauze. It reached down. Lifted the head off the floor.

Lifted the head to the stiff, tall collar.

Gently pressed the head into place.

And as the head touched the ghostly, gauzy neck, the green eyes flashed.

The cheeks twitched. The pale white eyebrows arched up and down.

And then the mouth moved.

The ghost turned to us—to Stephanie and me. And the lips moved in a silent
“Thank you.”

And then the arms rose into the air. Its green eyes still on us, the ghost
floated up into the air. Lighter than air, it floated silently up.

I watched in amazement, my heart pounding, until the ghostly figure vanished
in the darkness.

And then Stephanie and I both turned to Andrew at the same time. We had just
seen the headless ghost. We had just seen Andrew, the boy from a hundred years
ago. We had just watched him collect his head.

But the boy who claimed to be Andrew was still there. He stood behind us,
still trembling, his eyes wide, staring into the hidden room, making soft
swallowing sounds.

I narrowed my eyes at him. “If you aren’t Andrew,” I started—“if you aren’t
the headless ghost—then who
are
you?”

Stephanie turned on the boy, too. “Yeah. Who are you?” she asked angrily.

“If you’re not the headless ghost, why did you chase us?” I demanded.

“Well. I… uh…” The boy raised both hands as if surrendering. Then
he started to back away.

He had only gone three or four steps when we heard footsteps coming down the
long tunnel.

I turned to Stephanie. Another ghost?

“Who’s in here?” a deep voice boomed.

I saw a circle of light from a flashlight sweeping over the tunnel floor.

“Who is here?” the voice repeated.

I recognized the deep voice. Otto!

“Uh… back here,” the boy called softly.

“Seth—is that you?” The circle of light floated closer. Otto appeared
behind it, squinting at us. “What’s going on? What are you doing back here? This
part of the house is dangerous. It’s all falling apart.”

“Well… we were exploring,” Seth started. “And we got lost. It really
wasn’t our fault.”

Otto gazed at Seth sternly. Then his face filled with surprise as his
flashlight washed over Stephanie and me. “You two! How did you get in? What are
you doing here?”

“He… well… he let us in,” I answered. I pointed at Seth.

Otto turned back to Seth and shook his head unhappily. “More of your tricks?
Were you scaring these kids?”

“Not really, Uncle Otto,” Seth replied, keeping his eyes on the ground.

Uncle Otto?
So Seth was Otto’s nephew!

No wonder he knew so much about Hill House.

“Tell the truth, Seth,” Otto insisted. “Were you pretending to be a ghost
again? Haven’t you played that trick on enough kids? Haven’t you scared enough
kids to death?”

Seth stood silent.

Otto rubbed a hand back over his smooth, bald head. Then he let out a weary
sigh. “We have a business to run here,” he told Seth. “Do you want to scare my
customers away? Do you want to get the whole neighborhood upset?”

Seth lowered his head and still didn’t reply.

I could see that he was in major trouble. So I decided to jump in. “It’s
okay, Otto,” I said. “He didn’t scare us.”

“That’s right,” Stephanie chimed in. “We didn’t believe he was a ghost. Did
we, Duane?”

“Of course not,” I replied. “He didn’t fool us for a minute.”

“Especially when we saw the
real
ghost,” Stephanie added.

Otto turned to her, studying her in the light from the flashlight. “The
what
?”

“The real ghost!” Stephanie insisted.

“We saw the real ghost, Uncle Otto!” Seth exclaimed. “It was
awesome
!”

Otto rolled his eyes. “Save the jokes, Seth. It’s too late at night. You’re
just trying to get out of trouble.”

“No. Really!” I insisted.

“Really!” Seth and Stephanie cried.

“We saw the headless ghost, Uncle Otto. You’ve got to believe us!” Seth
pleaded.

“Sure, sure,” Otto muttered. He turned and motioned with his flashlight.
“Come on. Everyone out.”

After our scary night at Hill House, Stephanie and I gave up haunting the
neighborhood.

It just wasn’t that exciting anymore. Especially since we’d seen a real
ghost.

We stopped sneaking out at night. We stopped peeking into kids’ windows in
scary masks. We stopped hiding behind bushes and howling like werewolves in the
middle of the night.

We gave up all the scary stuff. And we never even talked about ghosts.

Stephanie and I found other things to be interested in. I tried out for the
basketball team at school, and I became a starting forward.

Stephanie joined the Theater Arts Club. This spring, she’s going to be
Dorothy in
The Wizard of Oz.
Either Dorothy or a Munchkin.

We had a good winter. Lots of snow. Lots of unscary fun.

Then late one evening we were heading home from a birthday party. It was the
first warm night of spring. Tulips were blooming in some of the front yards we passed. The air
smelled fresh and sweet.

I stopped in front of Hill House and gazed up at the old mansion. Stephanie
stopped beside me. She read my mind. “You want to go in, don’t you, Duane?”

I nodded. “How about taking the tour? We haven’t been in there since…” My
voice trailed off.

“Hey, why not?” Stephanie replied.

We climbed the steep hill. Tall weeds brushed the legs of my jeans as I made
my way to the front door. The huge old house stood as dark and as creepy as
ever.

As Stephanie and I climbed onto the front stoop, the door creaked open. As it
always had.

We stepped into the small front entryway. A few seconds later, Otto bounced
into view. Dressed all in black. A friendly smile on his round, bald head.

“You two!” he exclaimed happily. “Welcome back.” He called into the front
room. “Edna, come see who is here.”

Edna came tottering into the room. “Oh, my!” she cried, pressing a hand
against her pale, wrinkled face. “We were wondering if we would see you two
again.”

I gazed into the front room. No other customers.

“Could you take us on the tour?” I asked Otto.

He smiled his toothy smile. “Of course. Wait. I’ll get my lantern.”

Otto took us around Hill House. He gave us the complete tour.

It was great to see the house again. But it no longer held any secrets for
Stephanie and me.

After the tour, we thanked Otto and said good night.

We were halfway down the hill when a police car pulled up to the curb. A
dark-uniformed officer stuck his head out of the passenger window. “What were
you kids doing up there?” he called.

Stephanie and I made our way down to the police car. The two officers eyed us
suspiciously.

“We just took the tour,” I explained, pointing up to Hill House.

“Tour? What tour?” the officer demanded gruffly.

“You know. The haunted house tour,” Stephanie replied impatiently.

The police officer stuck his head farther out the window. He had blue eyes,
and freckles all over his face. “What were you
really
doing up there?” he
asked softly.

“We
told
you,” I said shrilly. “Taking the tour. That’s all.”

Behind the wheel, the other policeman chuckled. “Maybe a ghost gave them the
tour,” he told his partner.

“There
are
no tours,” the freckle-faced officer said, frowning. “There
haven’t been any tours in that house for months.”

Stephanie and I both uttered cries of surprise.

“The house is empty,” the police officer continued. “Shut down. There hasn’t
been anyone in there all winter. Hill House went out of business three months
ago.”

“Huh?” Stephanie and I exchanged startled glances. Then we both turned to
gaze up at the house.

The gray stone turrets rose up into the purple-black sky. Nothing but
darkness all around.

And then I saw a trail of soft light across the front window. Lantern light.
Orange and soft as smoke.

In the soft light, I saw Otto and Edna. They floated in front of the window.
I could see right through them, as if they were made of gauze.

They’re ghosts, too, I realized, staring into the soft, smoky light.

I blinked. And the light faded out.

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