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Overview
That's Alex Smith rushing past you, hurrying home to check out his journal. Why? Because Alex has never written a word in his journal, but yesterday, a mysterious entry appeared in the book – one that told Alex about the future. Alex can't wait to read the journal tonight to find out if there's anything new inside. Too bad he doesn't realize that by opening that book, he's opening the door to...The Nightmare Room
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9780061756993 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | HarperCollins Publishers |
| Publication date: | 10/06/2009 |
| Series: | Nightmare Room Series , #5 |
| Sold by: | HARPERCOLLINS |
| Format: | eBook |
| Pages: | 160 |
| Sales rank: | 969,993 |
| File size: | 711 KB |
| Age Range: | 8 - 14 Years |
About the Author
R.L. Stine has more than 350 million English language books in print, plus international editions in 32 languages, making him one of the most popular children’s authors in history. Besides Goosebumps, R.L. Stine has written other series, including Fear Street, Rotten School, Mostly Ghostly, The Nightmare Room, and Dangerous Girls. R.L. Stine lives in New York with his wife, Jane, and his Cavalier King Charles spaniel, Minnie. Visit him online at rlstine.com.
Hometown:
New York, New YorkDate of Birth:
October 8, 1943Place of Birth:
Columbus, OhioEducation:
B.A., Ohio State University, 1965Website:
http://www.rlstine.comRead an Excerpt
The Nightmare Room #5: Dear Diary, I'm Dead
Chapter One
Dear diary, My hands are shaking so badly, I don't know if I can write in you today. I was so scared last night. I'm still trembling.
Maybe I should start at the beginning. You know my friends Chip and Shawn and I have been talking about camping out in Full Moon Woods for nearly a year. Well, last night we finally did it.
What a mistake!
We thought it was going to be cool. We loaded all our gear into my dad's van, and he dropped us off at the dirt path that leads into the woods.
"Stick to the path, Alex," Dad called. "It will lead you to the creek. I'll pick you up right here tomorrow morning." The tires spun in the dirt as he drove away.
It was a cloudy afternoon. As soon as we stepped into the woods, it grew even darker. Our backpacks were bulging. And the canvas tent weighed a ton.
But we didn't mind. We were finally on our own in the woods. We walked quickly, following the path, making our way toward the creek.
Shawn started to sing an old Beatles song. Chip and I joined in. I loved the way our voices echoed off the trees.
"We should have brought our guitars," I said. All three of us play guitar, and we're starting a band.
Chip laughed. "Great idea, Alex. Where would we plug them in?"
"We'd need a very long extension cord!" I replied.
We were laughing and singing, enjoying the fresh cool air and the crunch of our shoes over the carpet of fat brown leaves.
The path ended, but we kept walking. I was pretty sure the creek was straight ahead. It grew even darker, and a cold wind swirled around us.
We walked for at least anhour before we realized we were totally lost.
"We should be able to hear the creek," Shawn said. He set down his backpack and stretched. "Where is it? Did we go in the right direction?"
"We'll never find it now," Chip sighed. "It's too dark."
A gust of wind sent dead leaves flying all around us. "Are there bears in these woods?" Shawn asked. He sounded a little frightened.
"No. But there are bunny rabbits that can chew you to bits!" I joked.
Chip laughed but Shawn didn't. I shivered and wrapped my yellow windbreaker tighter around me.
"Which way is the path?" Shawn asked, turning back. He pointed. "Is that the way we came? Maybe we should go back that way."
A hooting sound made me jump. A bird on a low tree branch. It hooted again, peering down at us.
"I don't want to go back," I said. "Let's keep going. The creek is this way. I know it."But Shawn and Chip wanted to stay right there and pitch the tent. It wasn't a bad place. A circle of tall grass surrounded by tall trees. So I agreed.
We tossed our backpacks in a pile and started to unroll the tent.
That's when I had the feeling for the first time'the feeling that we were being watched.I felt a prickling on the back of my neck. I heard a snapping sound behind us, like someone stepping on dry twigs.
I spun around. But I didn't see anyone. The trees tilted toward each other, as if closing in on us.
"What's your problem?" Shawn asked. "Did you see an animal?"
I laughed. "Yeah. A herd of buffalo."
We struggled with the tent. The gusting wind kept blowing it out of our hands. We finally got it to stand. But then the wind kept blowing out our campfire.
By the time we finished dinner, it was late. All three of us were yawning. My shoulders ached from carrying the heavy backpack.
We decided to climb into the tent and go to sleep. Shawn and Chip crawled inside. I started to follow them'then stopped.
I had the strange feeling again. The prickling on the back of my neck. Who was watching us?
I squinted through the misty darkness. I sucked in my breath when I saw dull gray circles'several pairs of them'floating low between the trees.
Eyes?
I dove into the tent. We slept in our clothes under wool blankets. The wool felt scratchy. The tent was damp from dew.
We couldn't sleep. We started to tell each other jokes. We were kidding around and laughing a lot.
But we stopped laughing when the howls started.
They were low at first, like ambulance sirens far in the distance. But then they sounded closer, louder. And we knew they were animal howls.
"I . . . hope it's dogs!" Shawn exclaimed. "Maybe it's just some wild dogs."
We huddled close together. We all knew weweren't hearing dogs. We were hearing wolf howls.
So close. . . . So close we could hear the harsh, shallow breaths between the howls.And then the soft crunch of footsteps outside the tent.
They were here! The howling creatures! The tent flap blew open.
My friends and I let out screams.
Two men in black leather jackets leaned down to peer into our tent. One of them raised a flashlight. He moved the light slowly from face to face. "Are you kids okay?" he asked...
The Nightmare Room #5: Dear Diary, I'm Dead. Copyright © by R.L. Stine. Reprinted by permission of HarperCollins Publishers, Inc. All rights reserved. Available now wherever books are sold.