Fright Christmas Read Online Free PDF Page A

we climbed up and up.
    I closed my eyes tightly—and held my breath.
    We reached the third floor.
    I let out a long whoosh of air.
    Then I inhaled sharply as we took a sudden turn—and headed for the electronics department.
    The Night Watchman slowed the bike now—slow enough for me to escape.
    As he turned down the television aisle, I leaped off.
    Yes! Safe at last! Now I’ll escape. Find a way out of here, I told myself. The worst part is over.
    I didn’t know how wrong I was.

11

    S QUEEEAAAAAL!
    The Night Watchman hit the brakes. The bike skidded to a stop.
    â€œCome here, kid!” he boomed.
    I turned and ran.
    I headed for the escalator—and felt a force pulling me back. Back down the aisle. Back toward the TVs. Back to the Night Watchman.
    â€œGoing someplace, Kenny?”
    â€œI have to get home,” I groaned.
    â€œAnd miss the entertainment?” he sneered.
    Entertainment?
    What was he talking about? I didn’t want to find out.
    I spun around—and bolted for the escalator.
    And slammed straight into the Night Watchman. This time, his body felt like a brick wall.
    I flew backward and landed on the floor.
    â€œDon’t waste my time,” he growled. “You can’t escape me. I’m a ghost—remember? I am the ghost of your past.”
    â€œWh-what does that mean?” I stammered.
    â€œI’m disappointed in you, Kenny.” The Night Watchman folded his arms across his chest. “Haven’t you figured it out yet?”
    â€œFigured what out?” I glanced up at him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!”
    â€œLet me spell it out for you, kid. I am the Ghost of Christmas Past. Your past,” he declared.
    He grabbed the back of my jacket and lifted me off my feet. The heels of his black boots clicked on the hard floor as he pulled me into the video department.
    â€œSit!” He shoved me down. I hit the floor with a thud.
    Then he began searching through a stack of videos.
    â€œI can watch a movie at home!” I exclaimed. “I have to get home!”
    â€œSorry, Kenny,” he said. “You don’t have this movie at your house.”
    He inserted the tape into a VCR.
    The screen on a giant TV lit up. I saw a street. A familiar street.
    â€œHey, that’s Main Street!” I said. “I never knew they made a movie in Shadyside!”
    The Night Watchman leaned against his bike. He took a long, pointy metal toothpick from the pocket of his T-shirt and slipped it between his teeth.
    â€œThis is going to be a real treat for you, Kenny!” he sneered as he picked at his metal teeth.
    I turned back to the screen. The camera panned down street after street—filled with people, bundled up in their winter coats. They carried shopping bags and boxes and wrapped packages. Christmas presents!
    â€œHey, someone must have shot this video today,” I said.
    â€œHmmm.” The Night Watchman shook his head from side to side. “Keep watching, Kenny.”
    The camera zoomed in on a building—my school!
    Then the auditorium flashed on the TV screen. The principal stood on the stage, in front of a microphone.
    â€œStudents of Shadyside Middle School,” his voice boomed. “I hope you all enjoyed the Christmas show.”
    â€œHey! Wait a minute. What’s going on?” I said. “Our drama teacher broke her leg this Thanksgiving. So we didn’t put on a Christmas play this year.”
    I shot a glance at the Night Watchman. “Keep watching, Kenny.”
    â€œNow, here to make our annual Christmas speech, is one of the nicest boys in our school,” the principal went on. “Timmy Smathers!”
    The camera zoomed in on nerdy Tiny Timmy. He sat in the first row.
    I stared hard at the screen. This all looked so familiar, as if I’d seen it before.
    All the kids clapped and Timmy stood up. Shuffling sheets and sheets of paper in his hands, he