Fright Christmas Read Online Free PDF

walked up the stage steps toward the podium.
    Then—from the back of the stage—a figure inched forward in the shadows. I didn’t know who it was at first. I couldn’t see his face.
    Then it hit me!
    I knew what I was watching.
    â€œHey, that’s me!” I exclaimed.
    â€œDo you remember what you did there?” the Night Watchman asked.
    â€œHow could I forget?” I declared. “It was last Christmas.” Just the memory of that day made me laugh.
    I turned back to the screen—just in time to see me duck behind the podium.
    I picked up the special stand the woodworking shop had made just for Timmy. He needed a stool to stand on because he was so short!
    I watched me run off the stage, clutching the stand to my chest. Timmy walked up to the podium and rested the pages of his speech on top.
    â€œFellow students of Shadyside Middle School,” he began. “At this special time of year, we all . . .”
    Timmy waved his hands in the air as he spoke. And that’s all we could see of him—his hands, waving in the air. The rest of him was hidden behind the podium.
    The camera panned over the audience. At first, only a few kids laughed. You could hear some other kids shushing them.
    Then the laughter grew louder. Finally, even the shushers were giggling!
    It was a riot!
    The camera zoomed in on me. I sat in the last row. I started to chant.
    â€œTi-ny Tim-my! Ti-ny Tim-my!” It didn’t take long for the other kids to join in.
    The camera zoomed back to the stage. Behind the podium, Timmy bit his lip. A tear streamed down his face.
    The principal stormed onto the stage.
    The Night Watchman slammed his hand on Stop. Timmy froze on the screen, his face wet with tears.
    â€œHad enough?” he asked.
    â€œWhy did you stop it?” I exclaimed. “This is where it gets really good.”
    â€œBecause I’ve had enough,” the Night Watchman said.
    He pounded his fist on the top of the VCR. The VCR crumpled. The tape spewed out.
    Then he flipped up his dark visor—and I saw his eyes.
    Creepy yellow eyes with no eyelids. No eyelashes.
    My whole body trembled.
    â€œNowww—what do you think?” he crooned.
    I stared in terror as his yellow eyes began to glow.
    â€œStill think I’m crazy, Kenny?”
    I broke out into a sweat.
    I tried to speak, but the words stuck in my throat.
    â€œTimmy didn’t forget that little prank you pulledlast Christmas,” the ghost roared. “What you did hurt him, Kenny.”
    â€œT-take it easy,” I finally choked out. “Th-that’s Timmy’s problem. Not mine.”
    The ghost shook his head. “That’s where you’re wrong. It’s your problem, Kenny!”

12

    T he Night Watchman’s thin lips curled into a smile. A horrible, ghostly smile.
    He stepped toward me—his thick fingers clenched into two tight fists.
    Run! I told myself. Get up and run!
    But I couldn’t move.
    â€œIt—it was a joke,” I stammered. “It was just a prank!”
    â€œYou’re going to pay for what you did to Timmy,” he shouted. His big hands reached out to grab me. I ducked.
    I jumped up from the floor and ran.
    My heart pounded against my ribs.
    I dashed past the long row of TVs. Behind me, I heard the bike’s engine thunder to life.
    I skidded around the first corner I came to. I saw the furniture department ahead of me. Chairs . . . couches . . . tables. Separated with little walls. Little, fake rooms.
    There had to be someplace for me to hide in there!
    The bike roared closer.
    I dashed through the rooms. In and out. Zigzagging in circles.
    Wherever I turned, I heard the bike right behind me.
    â€œYou can’t escape, Kenny,” the ghost bellowed. “Give up!”
    My sides ached from running.
    I heard the bike crash through a table as it followed my trail.
    â€œI’m coming for you, Kenny!” the ghost