The Five Masks of Dr. Screem

The Five Masks of Dr. Screem by R. L. Stine

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Authors: R. L. Stine
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Belladonna repeated.
    They both dropped to the floor, wrestling, struggling, scratching at each other. They groaned and grunted and shouted as they fought.
    They rolled across the kitchen floor. Toward the big window. Into a patch of morning sunlight.
    Yes. The sun was high in the sky now.
    And as Screem and Belladonna rolled into the bright sunlight, I saw a flash of white light.
    Blinding white light. Like a powerful explosion.
    I shut my eyes.
    I could still see the light on my eyelids.
    And when I finally opened my eyes, the two of them were gone. And the masks had vanished with them.
    Screem and Belladonna — both disappeared into the sunlight. Their screams still rang in my ears.
    I felt dazed. I struggled to clear my mind, to think straight. And as I did, a wave of cold fear ran down my body.
    And a terrifying question pushed its way into my mind:
    Where is Peter?
    What became of my brother?
    Would I ever see him again? Or had he vanished like Screem … like Belladonna? Like our parents?

42
    I wrapped my arms around myself. I felt cold despite the warm sunlight washing into the kitchen.
    The silence rang in my ears, a hollow sound. And then I jumped when I heard the thud of footsteps. In the front hall.
    I turned — and saw the purple robe.
    Screem? Had he returned?
    No. Peter grinned at me. He stepped into the kitchen and did a funny tap dance. “Tah-DAH!”
    “Peter? That robe —” I uttered. “You —”
    “Fits me perfectly,” he said. “But I don’t think I’ll wear it to school.”
    “How — how can you stand there making jokes?” I stammered.
    He shrugged. “Halloween is over, right? And we’re alive.”
    I rushed up to him. I had a million questions. “Where were you? Why didn’t you come back here with Screem?”
    “He told me not to show myself until it was bright sunshine,” Peter answered. “He said it would all be over by then. And we’d be safe.”
    “Oh, wow. Oh, wow.” I was so happy to see him, I nearly hugged him.
    “Peter, it’s morning,” I said. I grabbed him by the shoulders. “Mom and Dad. They must be out of their minds worrying about us. They probably have the police out looking for us.”
    Peter’s smile faded. “
If
they’re back,” he said softly.
    His words sent a chill down my back. “Halloween is over,” I said. “Belladonna and Screem are gone. That means everything is back to normal. Everything …”
    I sighed. “Our house
has
to be back, Peter,” I cried. “Mom and Dad
have
to be back.”
    We didn’t say another word. We ran down the hall and out the front door. We didn’t even bother to close the door behind us.
    Our shoes thudded down the gravel driveway, past the tall hedges to the street. Cars rolled past. Two little kids were in the yard across the street, jumping up and down in a pile of dead leaves.
    A normal Saturday morning.
    Yes. Normal. A woman opened her front door and let her dog run out. A white mail truck turned the corner. The two little kids waved to it.
    Normal.
    We turned the corner onto our block. We ran past the empty field, past two houses.
    I couldn’t see our house. Trees stood in the way.
    My heart was pounding so hard, I could barely breathe. Running was too slow. I wanted to leap into the air and
fly
to our house.
    Finally, we were there. Finally, we could see….
    “OH, NOOOOOO!” I wailed.
    Behind me, I heard Peter utter a scream.
    “Noooooo.”
    Still an empty field. I stared up at the ragged lawn. Nothing but tall grass and weeds.
    No house. No parents.
    My whole body sagged. My knees folded. I dropped to the wet ground.
    Gone. Everything. Still gone.

43
    “What are we going to do? What are we going to do?”
    Peter kept repeating the same words over and over. Each time his voice got more shrill.
    He stood staring up to where the house should be. His hands were pressed tightly to the sides of his face.
    “Halloween is over,” he said. “Everything is supposed to be back to normal. Everything …” His

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