Don't Stay Up Late by R. L. Stine Page B

But your mind goes crazy when you are terrified beyond anything you’ve ever felt.
    â€œStay away!” I screamed. “Go away!”
    He took another heavy step toward me. Then he tilted his fur-topped head back, uttered a shrill hissing sound, puckered his black lips, and spit a huge gray-green gob of gunk into the air. It shot across the room and landed with a loud wet splat on the coffee table at my feet.
    I screamed and forced myself to move. I darted to the back of the couch. Another thick gob of spit landed on the couch-back in front of me. It sizzled as it sank into the cushion.
    â€œNooooooo!” I let out a long wail as I watched the creature raise both arms as if preparing to grab me. I spun away from behind the couch. My eyes shot back and forth, looking for an escape route.
    Another snakelike hiss from the creature. He snapped his jaws, making his pointed teeth click. Again. Again. The clicking sound hurt my ears, like chalk squeaking on a chalkboard.
    Panting in terror, I watched as he sent another wad of spit flying toward me. I ducked, and it sailed over my head and made an ugly splat sound on the wall.
    I stood up—and uttered a cry as the next disgusting wad of spit hit me, stunned me, splattered over my hair and forehead. The warm gunk oozed down my face. It smelled putrid, like rotten eggs.
    I raised a hand to wipe it away. And now my hand was covered in sticky goo. I stood there, unable to decide what to do, the spit sinking into my hair, running down my face.
    And then … something inside me snapped. I felt a weird burst of energy. A wave of anger swept over me. “Stop! Go away!” I shrieked. “Go awaaaaay!”
    I must have temporarily lost my mind. Because instead of backing away from the ugly, spitting creature, instead of trying to escape, I pushed myself forward. I lurched away from the wall—and went after him.
    I lowered my head like a football running back and went charging at him.
    The creature’s red eyes flared. The hissing stopped. He turned and took off, staggering away from me toward the front door.
    Roaring like a wild beast, I flew after him.
    He turned at the doorway, ducked past me, and trotted back into the living room. He had a strange, twisted grin on his black lips, as if he was enjoying the chase.
    He stopped at the side of the couch. Leaped onto the coffee table. Turned and waited for me to come after him.
    But I ran to the stairway. I was panting hard, my face burning hot and stained with sweat. I wasn’t thinking clearly. I didn’t have a plan. I knew only that I wanted to protect Harry. I wouldn’t let the creature go up the stairs again.
    We had another staring contest. The creature perched on the coffee table, big gnarly hands on his waist. For the first time, I noticed that he was dressed in baggy brown clothes, a long shirt that came down nearly to his knees. Brown leggings revealing bare, fur-covered feet at the bottoms.
    A horror-movie creature that wore clothes?
    The insanity of it made him even more frightening to me. He had to be real. If I had imagined him, I’d never put him in clothes.…
    More crazy thoughts.
    My whole body tingled with cold sweat as I struggled to catch my breath.
    And then the creature was moving again. Grunting loudly, he ran straight to the wall. Hoisted himself onto the dark-wood bookcase. Then scrambled straight up. To my shock, he ran up the wall. Then ran across the ceiling! His large bare feet slapped the ceiling as he ran upside-down across it.
    He spun and dropped into the hall. His feet thudded the floor as he plunged into the kitchen. I heard the kitchen door slam hard.
    Did that mean he was gone? Did he run out of the house?
    I hunched with my hands pressed over my knees. I stayed there, my chest throbbing, hair falling over my sweat-drenched face, gasping for air.
    When I could finally move, I pushed my hair off my face, took a deep breath, and strode to the kitchen. I