Rain blew against the glass. Thunder rumbled. On a hill far across town, the steep roof of the old Creekmoss house was visible above the swaying treetops.
In a few hours, she would be alone inside that awful place. She rubbed her arms. They were bumpy with gooseflesh.
She thought about backing down.
But she had already spent nearly a hundred dollars. Now she really needed that money from Lyle.
There is no such thing as ghosts, she told herself.
It crept out of the dark and tore him to pieces.
Garbage!
She changed clothes, putting on jeans, a flannel shirt, and boots. She made spaghetti for dinner, but couldn't eat much. Time passed very slowly. She tried to study, but couldn't keep her mind on the book. She stared at the television. Finally, at five minutes to ten, she slipped into her jacket. She put on a battered old cowboy hat to keep the rain off her head, picked up her sleeping bag and purse, and went downstairs.
As she reached the lobby, she saw Lyle's Mustang swing to the curb. She pushed open one of the glass doors and rushed through the downpour. Lyle opened the passenger door for her. She climbed in, and pulled it shut.
"What a wonderful night," Lyle said, "for ghoulies and ghosties."
"Have you got the money?"
"But of course. I made a trip to my friendly bank." He took out his wallet, turned on the overhead light, and counted out ten fifty-dollar bills.
"Okay," Janice said.
He put them back in his wallet. "You're really going to try this, are you?"
"I'm not going to try, I'm going to succeed."
"Why is your voice shaking?"
"Because I'm cold."
"Oh, I thought you might be just a little scared," he said.
"Let's get going," Janice said, ignoring his teasing.
A t first there were many houses along the roadside, then fewer and fewer, and finally none at all.
Nor were there any street lamps. As they drove through the darkness, the wet surface of the road ahead of them shone in the glare of the car's headlights.
Lyle slowed down and turned onto a narrow road. It led up a wooded hillside. "We're almost there," he said. "How are you doing?"
"Just fine," Janice told him.
He laughed. He sounded nervous, himself, and he wasn't the one who would be spending the night in the Creekmoss house.
As they reached the top of the hill, jagged lightning crossed the sky. In the brightness, Janice glimpsed the old house---its shadowy porch, its boarded windows, its steep roof and tower. When darkness returned, Janice shut her eyes and wished she were somewhere else. Thunder roared in her ears.
"Here we are," Lyle said.
Janice looked out her window as the car stopped in front of an open gate.
"Now, you'll be staying right here?" she asked.
"All night, if it takes that long. Which it won't. I give you about ten minutes."
"What if I can't get in?"
"No problem. I've taken care of that. I came up here this afternoon and broke open the front door for you."
"Thanks," she muttered. Beyond the gate was an overgrown yard. A few stairs led up to the front porch. The porch looked black. "The door is there?" she asked.
He nodded.
"Now, you aren't going to try any funny stuff, are you?"
"Like what?"
"Like sneaking in to scare me," she said.
"Who, me?"
"If you do, I get the money whether I stay all night or not."
"Don't worry, I'm not going in there."
"Is it a deal?" she asked.
"Yeah, sure. I'll stay right here."
"At sunrise, I want you to come in after me."
"Well . . ."
"You have to promise," Janice said.
"Okay, I promise. But believe me, you won't last that long."
"Yes I will."
"Is there anyone you want me to get in touch with if the ghost gets you?"
"Very funny," she said. She wrapped an arm around her sleeping bag, threw open the car door, and climbed out. Looking at the ground, she rushed through the gate. The rain pattered on her hat and back as she raced through the weeds. Her boots thudded on the porch stairs.
Standing in the darkness, she opened her purse and took out a flashlight. She shined it at the
In a few hours, she would be alone inside that awful place. She rubbed her arms. They were bumpy with gooseflesh.
She thought about backing down.
But she had already spent nearly a hundred dollars. Now she really needed that money from Lyle.
There is no such thing as ghosts, she told herself.
It crept out of the dark and tore him to pieces.
Garbage!
She changed clothes, putting on jeans, a flannel shirt, and boots. She made spaghetti for dinner, but couldn't eat much. Time passed very slowly. She tried to study, but couldn't keep her mind on the book. She stared at the television. Finally, at five minutes to ten, she slipped into her jacket. She put on a battered old cowboy hat to keep the rain off her head, picked up her sleeping bag and purse, and went downstairs.
As she reached the lobby, she saw Lyle's Mustang swing to the curb. She pushed open one of the glass doors and rushed through the downpour. Lyle opened the passenger door for her. She climbed in, and pulled it shut.
"What a wonderful night," Lyle said, "for ghoulies and ghosties."
"Have you got the money?"
"But of course. I made a trip to my friendly bank." He took out his wallet, turned on the overhead light, and counted out ten fifty-dollar bills.
"Okay," Janice said.
He put them back in his wallet. "You're really going to try this, are you?"
"I'm not going to try, I'm going to succeed."
"Why is your voice shaking?"
"Because I'm cold."
"Oh, I thought you might be just a little scared," he said.
"Let's get going," Janice said, ignoring his teasing.
A t first there were many houses along the roadside, then fewer and fewer, and finally none at all.
Nor were there any street lamps. As they drove through the darkness, the wet surface of the road ahead of them shone in the glare of the car's headlights.
Lyle slowed down and turned onto a narrow road. It led up a wooded hillside. "We're almost there," he said. "How are you doing?"
"Just fine," Janice told him.
He laughed. He sounded nervous, himself, and he wasn't the one who would be spending the night in the Creekmoss house.
As they reached the top of the hill, jagged lightning crossed the sky. In the brightness, Janice glimpsed the old house---its shadowy porch, its boarded windows, its steep roof and tower. When darkness returned, Janice shut her eyes and wished she were somewhere else. Thunder roared in her ears.
"Here we are," Lyle said.
Janice looked out her window as the car stopped in front of an open gate.
"Now, you'll be staying right here?" she asked.
"All night, if it takes that long. Which it won't. I give you about ten minutes."
"What if I can't get in?"
"No problem. I've taken care of that. I came up here this afternoon and broke open the front door for you."
"Thanks," she muttered. Beyond the gate was an overgrown yard. A few stairs led up to the front porch. The porch looked black. "The door is there?" she asked.
He nodded.
"Now, you aren't going to try any funny stuff, are you?"
"Like what?"
"Like sneaking in to scare me," she said.
"Who, me?"
"If you do, I get the money whether I stay all night or not."
"Don't worry, I'm not going in there."
"Is it a deal?" she asked.
"Yeah, sure. I'll stay right here."
"At sunrise, I want you to come in after me."
"Well . . ."
"You have to promise," Janice said.
"Okay, I promise. But believe me, you won't last that long."
"Yes I will."
"Is there anyone you want me to get in touch with if the ghost gets you?"
"Very funny," she said. She wrapped an arm around her sleeping bag, threw open the car door, and climbed out. Looking at the ground, she rushed through the gate. The rain pattered on her hat and back as she raced through the weeds. Her boots thudded on the porch stairs.
Standing in the darkness, she opened her purse and took out a flashlight. She shined it at the
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