The Howling Ghost

T
he day the howling ghost kidnapped Cindy Makey's kid brother, Neil, was rotten from the start. Cindy began to expect bad times ever since her family moved to Springville, or Spooksville, as the kids in town called it. At first—even though she disliked the place—Cindy didn't believe half the stories she heard about it. But after the ghost came out of the light-house and grabbed Neil, she was ready to believe anything.

“Can I walk on the jetty?” Neil asked as they
reached the end of the beach, where the rocky jetty led out to the lighthouse.

“I don't think so,” Cindy replied, stuffing her hands in her pockets. “It's getting late and cold.”

“Please?” Neil pleaded, sounding like the five-year-old he was. “I'll be careful.”

Cindy smiled at her brother. “You don't know what the word means.”

Neil frowned. “Which word?”

“Careful, dummy.” Cindy stared at the churning ocean water. The waves weren't high, but the way they smashed against the large boulders of the jetty made her uneasy. It was as if the surf were trying to tear down the structure. And the tall lighthouse, standing dark and silent at the end of the jetty, also made her nervous. It had ever since she moved to Springville two months ago. The lighthouse just looked, well, kind of spooky.

“Pretty please?” Neil asked again.

Cindy sighed. “All right. But stay in the middle, and watch where you put your feet. I don't want you falling in.”

Neil leaped in the air. “Cool! Do you want to come?”

Cindy turned away. “No. I'll sit here and watch.
But if a shark comes out of the water and carries you out to sea, I'm not going in after you.”

Neil stopped bouncing. “Do sharks eat boys?”

“Only when there are no girls to eat.” Seeing Neil's confused expression, Cindy laughed and sat down on a large rock. “That was a joke. Go, quick, have your walk on the jetty. Then let's get home. It'll be dark in a few minutes.”

“OK,” he said, dancing away, talking to himself. “Watch out for falling feet and girl sharks.”

“Just be careful,” Cindy said, so softly she was sure Neil didn't hear. She wondered why the dread she felt about the town hadn't touched her brother. Since their mother had moved them back to their father's old house eight weeks ago, Neil had been as happy as one of the smiling clams he occasionally found on the beach.

But Cindy knew the town wasn't safe. In Springville the nights were just a little too dark, the moon a little too big. Sometimes in the middle of the night she heard strange sounds: leathery wings beating far overhead, muted cries echoing from under the ground. Maybe she imagined these things—she wasn't sure. She just wished her father were still alive to go with them on their walks. Actually, she just wished he were alive. She missed him more than she knew how to say.

Still, she kept going for walks late in the evening.

Particularly by the ocean. It seemed to draw her.

Even the spooky lighthouse called to her.

Watching Neil scale the first of the large boulders, Cindy began to sing a song her father had taught her. Actually, it was more of an old poem that she chanted. The words were not pleasant. But for some strange reason they came back to Cindy right then.

The ocean is a lady,

She is kind to all.

But if you forget her dark moods.

Her cold waves, those watery walls.

Then you are bound to fall.

Into a cold grave.

Where the fish will have you for food.

The ocean is a princess.

She is always fair.

But if you dive too deep.

Into the abyss, the octopus's lair.

Then you are bound to despair.

In a cold grave.

Where the sharks will have you for meat.

“My father never was much of a poet,” Cindy muttered when she finished the piece. Of course, she knew he hadn't made it up. Someone had taught it to him. She just didn't know who. Maybe
his
mother or father, who had lived in Springville when her father was five.

Cindy wondered if he had ever walked out to the lighthouse.

Without warning, the top of the lighthouse began to glow right then.

“Oh no,” Cindy muttered as she got to her feet. Everyone knew the lighthouse was deserted. A pillar of spider webs and dust. Light had not shone from its windows since she'd moved to Springville. Her mother said it hadn't been turned on in decades.

Yet as she watched, a powerful beam of white light stabbed out from the top of the lighthouse. It was turned toward the sea. It raked over the water like an energy beam fired from an alien ship. The surface of the water churned harder beneath its glare, as if it were boiling. Steam appeared to rise up from the cold water. For a moment she thought she saw something just under the surface. A ruined ship, maybe, wrecked on a sharp reef that grew over it with the passing years.

Then the light snapped toward the shore, spinning halfway around. It focused on the jetty. Still moving, still searching.

Cindy watched in horror as it crept toward her brother.

He was already partway down the jetty, his eyes focused on his feet.

“Neil!” she screamed.

He looked up just as the light fell on him. It was as if something physical had grabbed him. For a few seconds his short brown hair stood straight up. Then his feet lifted off the boulder he was standing on. The light was so bright it was blinding. But Cindy got the impression that two ugly hands had emerged from the light to take hold of him. As a second scream rose in her throat, she thought she saw the hands tighten their grip.

“Get away, Neil!” she cried.

Cindy was running toward her brother. But the light was faster than she was. Before she even reached the jetty, Neil was yanked completely into the air. For several seconds he floated above the rocks and surf, an evil wind tugging at his hair, terror in his eyes.

“Neil!” Cindy kept screaming, leaping from boulder to boulder, not caring where her feet landed. But that was her undoing. She was almost to her brother,
within arm's reach, when her shoes hit a piece of wet seaweed. She slipped and went down hard. Pain flared in her right leg. She had scraped the skin off her knee.

“Cindy!” her brother finally called. But the word sounded strange, the cry of a lost soul falling into a deep well. As Cindy watched, her brother was yanked out over the water, away from the jetty. He was held suspended, as the waves crashed beneath his feet and the wind howled.

Yet this was not a natural wind. It howled as if alive. Or else it shouted as if it hungered for those still living. The sound seemed to come from the beam of light itself. There was a note of sick humor in the sound. A wicked chuckle. It had her brother. It had what it wanted.

“Neil,” Cindy whispered, in despair.

He tried to speak to her, perhaps to say her name again.

But no words came out.

The beam of light suddenly moved.

It jerked her brother farther out over the sea. Far out over the rough surf. For a few seconds Cindy could still see him, a struggling shadow in the glare of the cold light. But then the beam swept upward, toward the sky. And went out.

Just like that, the light vanished.

Taking her brother with it.

“Neil!” Cindy cried.

But the wind continued to howl.

And her cry was lost over the cruel sea.

No one heard her. No one came to help.

T
wo days after Cindy Makey's brother was kidnapped by the howling ghost, Adam Freeman and Sally Wilcox were having breakfast with their friend Watch. Breakfast was doughnuts and milk at the local bakery. Of course, Sally was having coffee instead of milk because, as she said, the caffeine helped steady her nerves.

“What's wrong with your nerves?” Adam asked, munching on a jelly doughnut.

“If you had lived here as long as me, you wouldn't have to ask,” Sally replied, sipping her coffee. She
nodded to his doughnut. “It's better to eat ones that don't have stuff inside.”

“Why?” Adam asked.

“You never know what that
stuff
might be,” Sally said.

“It's just a jelly doughnut,” Adam protested, although he did stop eating it.

Sally spoke gravely. “Yeah, but where did the jelly come from? Have you been in the back room? Have you studied the supplies? You can make jelly out of raspberries and strawberries, or a respectable facsimile from scrambled brains.”

Adam set his doughnut down. “I really don't think so.

“It's not always wise to think too much in this town,” Sally said. “Sometimes you've got to trust your gut feelings.” She leaned over and sniffed the doughnut. “Or your nose. It smells all right to me, Adam. Go ahead, have another bite.”

Adam sipped his milk. “I've had enough.”

“Can I finish it?” Watch asked. “I'm not picky.”

“Sure,” Adam said, pushing the doughnut over. “What were we talking about a few seconds ago? I forgot.”

“Alien abductions,” Watch said, taking a bite out of
the doughnut and licking the jelly as it oozed over his fingers. “They're happening all over. Ships from other planets come down and grab people and take them into orbit for physical examinations. I'm surprised one of us hasn't been abducted yet. I imagine we would make interesting specimens.”

“I don't believe in flying saucers,” Adam said.

Sally snorted. “Yeah. Just like you didn't believe in witches a month ago.”

“Have you ever seen a flying saucer?” Adam asked even though he knew what Sally's answer would be.

“Of course,” she said. “Just before you got here I saw one come down up at the reservoir. Old Man Farmer was out on his boat fishing and—”

“Wait a second,” Adam interrupted. “I thought you said there were no fish in the reservoir? That they had all thrown themselves on the shore because they couldn't bear to live there.”

“I said he was fishing,” Sally explained. “I didn't say he was catching any fish. Anyway, this ship came down and hovered over him and emitted this high vibration. Before you knew it Farmer's face got really long and his eyes bulged out of his head. Ten seconds of this and he looked like an alien.”

“Then what?” Adam asked.

Sally shrugged nonchalantly. “The ship left and he continued fishing. I think he caught something that day, too. But I don't know if it was edible.”

“But did Mr. Farmer continue to look like an alien?” Adam asked, exasperated.

“It was not a lasting operation,” Sally said.

“But his chin is still kind of pointed,” Watch added.

Adam shook his head. “I don't believe any of this.”

“Why don't you take a peek in the back,” Sally said. “Old Man Farmer works here. He probably baked that doughnut you just ate.”

As often was the case when Adam was with his friends, he had to struggle to keep up. If he hadn't almost been thrown in a boiling vat on the Secret Path, he would have refused to believe this new story. But nowadays he always left the door to his mind open, in case what they were talking about might be true.

“What I want to know,” Adam said, “is why Spooksville is so spooky? What is it about this place that makes it different from other towns?”

Watch nodded. “That's the big question. I've been trying to figure out the answer since I moved here. But I can tell you one thing, Bum knows the truth. I think Ann Templeton does, too.”

“But Bum won't tell?” Adam asked.

“Nope,” Watch said. “He said I have to find the answer for myself. And that I will probably disappear from the face of the earth before I do.” He paused. “You might want to talk to Ann Templeton about it sometime. I hear you guys are friends.”

“Who told you that?” Adam asked.

Watch pointed at Sally. “She did.”

“What I said was that he was in love with the witch,” Sally explained. “I didn't say they were friends.”

“I don't love her,” Adam snapped.

“Well, you certainly don't love me,” Sally snapped back.

Adam scratched his head. “How did we go from what makes Spooksville scary to my personal life.”

“What personal life?” Sally asked, getting annoyed. “You don't have a personal life. You don't even have a girlfriend.”

“I'm twelve years old,” Adam said. “I'm not required to have a girlfriend.”

“That's right,” Sally said. “Wait till you're eighteen. Let your whole life pass you by. Throw away your finest years. I don't care. I live in the present moment. That's the only way to live in this town. Because tomorrow you might be dead. Or worse.”

Watch patted Sally on the back. “I think you need another doughnut.”

Sally grumbled, still looking at Adam. “Doughnuts cannot cure all my problems.” Nevertheless, she took a bite out of the chocolate one Watch set in front of her. A smile touched her lips. “Ah, sugar and chocolate. Better than love. They're always there for you.”