Don't Close Your Eyes! Read Online Free PDF Page A

lumberjacks. You know—
timberrrr!”
    I know. It didn't make any sense. I guess that's why Ms. Park kept staring at me.
    “Max, what's that all over your face?” she asked. “It looks like ink.”
    “Oh, wow,” I muttered.
    “Inkweed started to escape from you,” Nicky explained. “As soon as you closed your eyes, he started to ooze out.”
    I rubbed my cheeks. Inky wet.
    “Uh … I guess my pen leaked!” I told the librarian.
    I swallowed. My heart began to pound. Inkweed had started to make his escape. He had started to seep out of me.
    I had to stay awake. But how? I could barely keep my eyes open, even after the hard smash on the head.
    Ms. Park handed me a wad of tissues. I frantically wiped the ink off my face.
    “Come with me,” she said. “Dad said to bring you upstairs.”
    She led me up a creaky, narrow stairway. Nicky and Tara followed close behind. We entered a small low-ceilinged room crammed with books from floor to ceiling.
    Ms. Park's father sat in a fat overstuffed armchair, a stack of books on a table at his side. He had a round red face, curly white hair, and bright blue eyes. He gave me a warm smile as I entered the room, and waved me into a folding chair across from him.
    He wore an oversized brown cardigan sweater open over a black T-shirt, and baggy khakis, torn at one knee. He had a fat yellowed book open on his lap.
    “So you're interested in folktales,” he said. He had a deep, gravelly voice.
    “Uh … well… n-no,” I stammered.
    He scratched his head of thick white hair. “I see. You're only interested in folktales about Inkweed.”
    I nodded. “Yes. Inkweed.”
    Mr. Park bit his bottom lip, studying me. “Well, he's an interesting ghost. Evil as they come.”
    “I know,” I said. “I … uh … have one important question. For my school report.”
    He leaned closer. “And the question is?”
    I took a deep breath. “If someone gets possessed by Inkweed,” I said, “how do you get rid of him?”
    “Get rid of him?” Mr. Park said. “That's
impossible!”

12
    I OPENEDMYMOUTH in a loud gasp.
    I felt Inkweed move inside my head. He slid from the back to my forehead. I could feel his heavy presence behind my eyes.
    Mr. Park shut his eyes and rubbed his chin. “Let me think,” he said. “How does the story go?”
    He was silent for a long time.
    I sucked in breath after breath, trying to calm down. But how could I? I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs. I wanted to scream for help.
    “Somebody, help me! I've got this inky
thing
inside me!
Do
something! Somebody
—do
something!”
    “Now I remember.” Mr. Park's raspy voice broke into my panicked thoughts.
    “You … r-remember?” I stammered.
    He nodded. “It's impossible to get rid of Inkweed—
unless
you do one thing.”
    “Yes?” I cried eagerly. “One thing?”
    “You must take Inkweed to the darkest place on the darkest night,” Mr. Park said.
    “The darkest place on the darkest night,” I whispered to myself.
    “Yes,” the old storyteller said. “If you can keep him in darkness that's darker than
his
darkness, you will defeat him. He will disappear.”
    I stood there gazing into Mr. Park's face, thinking hard. I kept repeating the words he'd just said. Trying to make sense of them. Trying to understand …
    Finally, I realized he was waiting for me to leave.
    “Thank you very much,” I said. “I think that will … uh … help my report a lot.” I turned and started toward the stairway.
    “Max, would you like to hear a story about a ghost named Turnip?” he called after me.
    “No thanks,” I said. “I—”
    “They call him that because you never know where or when he'll turnip!” He laughed. “Get it?”
    “Ha, ha,” I laughed weakly. “That's a good one. Thanks again, Mr. Park.” I gave him a wave and started down the stairs.
    My legs were trembling. I could still feel Inkweed in my head. I couldn't wait to get out of that library.
    Sumner Park wasn't at the front desk. I