The Barking Ghost

7

Fergie let go of my shoulders and ran.

For a few seconds, I stared after her, too shocked to move. Then I decided I'd better not let her get away.

"Fergie!" I called out. "Wait up!"

For a girl, Fergie ran pretty fast. Actually, most girls I know are fast runners.

Whoever said they were slower than boys in the first place? It isn't true. Lots of girls in my class last year could beat any guy in a race.

Anyway, I happen to be a very fast runner. When you're afraid of everything, you learn to run — fast!

"Fergie!" I called again. "Please! Tell me what's going on!" But I couldn't catch up.

Then, to my surprise, she stopped and turned back to me. "Listen, Cooper," she said, calmer than before. "The woods are haunted. Your house is probably haunted, too. Go home. Go home and tell your parents to move back to wherever you came from."

"But — but — but — " I sputtered.

"It's too dangerous here," Fergie warned. "Get away, Cooper. As fast as you can!"

With that, she turned and walked away in the direction of her house.

I didn't follow her this time.

I should have. I totally forgot that I was lost.

I turned around. My house is probably in the opposite direction, I decided.

She disappeared through the trees. Fine with me, I thought angrily. It would be fine with me if I never saw her again.

Why did she tell me all that?

Why did she say the woods were haunted?

Because it was true?

Leave it to my parents to buy a haunted house in haunted woods!

I continued on, unable to shake the creepy feeling I had. I felt as if a hundred eyes were stalking me through the trees.

I wished Fergie had kept her mouth shut.

The longer I walked, the more frightened I became. Now I was positive that the woods were haunted. Haunted by ghosts tracking every step I made.

Then, in the distance, I heard a faint banging. It startled me at first. When I realized it was Dad working on the grill, I shrieked with joy.

"All right! I'm almost home!" My plan had worked.

I followed the hammering sounds.

Something rustled the branches above my head and made me jump.

I gazed up.

Just a bird.

Staring up at the trees, I nearly fell headfirst into a stream.

The water lapped quietly against the grassy shore. It reflected the pale blue morning sky above it.

Funny, I hadn't seen this stream here before.

I bent down to touch the water. Cold.

This is awesome! I thought. A real stream, practically in my own backyard.

Then I remembered that it wouldn't be my backyard for long. As soon as I told my parents what Fergie had said, we'd pack up and move back to Boston.

As I dried my hand on my shirt, I had that creepy feeling again. The feeling of eyes watching me. My head jerked up, and I gasped.

There were eyes watching me.

Four dark eyes glared at me from across the stream.

The eyes of two enormous black Labradors.

One dog panted loudly, its tongue hanging out. The other dog flashed its teeth at me. Ugly, yellow teeth.

They both uttered low, menacing growls.

Not friendly. Not friendly at all.

Run! I urged myself. Run!

But my legs wouldn't budge.

Growling, the dogs eyed me hungrily.

Then they attacked.