The Haunting by Rodman Philbrick Page B

bed and moved very quietly to Sally’s dresser to get her a sweater. When the shadow of a branch crossed the window I almost leaped out of my skin.
    I took the sweater back to Sally and helped her put it on. “All right. Let’s go wake up Mom and Dad,” I said, gathering up Sally and reaching behind me for the door handle while keeping an eye on the window.
    My searching hand met nothing but smooth wall. I spun around. The door was gone. I stared in sinking disbelief.
    Behind me came strange, gleeful laughter. I stiffened, afraid to turn.
    There was something in the room with us! The laughter came from everywhere. It had a speeded-up, unreal sound, like cartoon laughter from the television. Sally began to wail and I turned slowly around. My jaw dropped when I saw what it was.
    All of Sally’s toys had come to life. They were looking at us and laughing. Laughing like evil, evil creatures.
    The wooden pull-toy duck in the corner was flapping its bill. The clown puppet’s mouth was a round red “O” as it screamed an insane laugh. The jack-in-the-box sprang up and bounced with a tinny tee-hee-hee . Three dolls put their heads together and giggled like mad demons. Even Sally’s crayons danced with mean-spirited glee.
    Only Winky the rabbit lay quietly on her pillow, looking sad.
    Sally hid her face in my shoulder. “Make them stop,” she whimpered. “Jason, please make them stop.”
    I put her down gently on her bed, then began grabbing the toys and throwing them into her closet. Each toy hiccupped when it hit the wall and fell to the floor laughing crazily. I wanted to get them all, make them all shut up. I scrambled on hands and knees, grabbing every last one of the nasty things and tossing them all into the closet.
    I was surprised how good it made me feel to be throwing things rather than having them thrown at me. Take that, you stupid toys! I shut the closet door with a sigh, then whirled at a choking sound behind me.
    I’d missed one of the toys.
    The clown puppet had come to life. It had grown long, rubber fingers and wrapped them tight around her neck. It was strangling Sally.
    My sister’s eyes rolled as she struggled. Her small arms pushed at the clown but it held on, grinning with evil.
    She tried to scream but the clown had squeezed off her air.

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    I dove for Sally. I yanked at the clown but the toy dragged Sally after it.
    I wedged my fingers under the rubber clown fingers and pried at them. Sally’s neck felt so small and fragile, I was afraid of hurting her myself.
    I had to get her free or she’d die.
    The clown squeezed harder. It grinned an evil smile at me. I was frantic. I forced myself to calm down and concentrate all my strength on my fingers.
    Finally I broke the puppet’s grip and smashed it against the wall. As it hit the wall all the laughter abruptly stopped.
    It wasn’t over.
    The room suddenly got cold. The temperature dropped swiftly and Sally’s teeth were soon chattering. It was like the North Pole in there! I grabbed the blanket off her bed and wrapped us both in it. I was shivering, too, fighting off the incredible cold.
    Ice formed on the window and our breath filled the room with fog. I felt around under the bed for Sally’s sweater and brought it under the blanket.
    â€œHere, Sally, let’s get this on you.” She was already stiff with cold and I had to lift each of her arms to get the sweater on.
    The instant I let go of the blanket it flew off. The blanket fluttered about the room. As it settled, a small form took shape under it.
    I could make out a head, shoulders—it was a child!
    Noises started to come from under the blanket as if whoever was huddled under it was trying to speak.
    â€œCan you hear what he’s saying, Sally?” I asked. “Is that Bobby?”
    But Sally was shivering too much to pay attention to anything.
    The little figure continued to move around under the