Goosebumps: The Blob That Ate Everyone Read Online Free PDF Page A

such a beautiful spring night. I thought maybe you two would like
to take a walk into town to get some ice cream.”
    “Uh… no thanks,” Alex replied. “I already had dessert at home. Before I
came over.”
    “And I really want to get started typing my new scary story,” I told him.
    He sighed and looked disappointed. I think he really wanted an excuse to get
ice cream.
    As soon as he left, I dropped into my desk chair. I slid a fresh, white sheet
of paper into the typewriter roller.
    Alex pulled up a chair and sat beside me. “Can I try the typewriter after
you?” she asked.
    “Yes. After me,” I replied impatiently.
    I really wanted to get my story typed.
    I let my eyes wander over the round, black keys. Then I leaned forward and
started to type.
    Typing on a typewriter is a lot different from typing on a keyboard. For one
thing, you have to press the keys a lot harder.
    It took me a few tries to get the feel of the thing.
    Then I typed the first words of the story:
    IT WAS A DARK AND STORMY NIGHT.
    “Hey—!” I uttered a cry as lightning flashed in my bedroom window.
    Rain pounded on the glass.
    A sharp roar of thunder shook the house.
    Darkness swept over me as all the lights went out.
    “Zackie—?” Alex cried in a tiny voice. “Zackie? Zackie? Are you all right?”

 
 
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    I swallowed hard. “Yes. I’m okay,” I said quietly.
    Alex is the only person in the world who knows that I’m afraid of the dark.
    I’m afraid of mice. And I’m afraid of the dark.
    I admit it.
    And I’m afraid of a lot of other things.
    I’m afraid of big dogs. I’m afraid of going down to the basement when I’m all
alone in the house. I’m afraid of jumping into the deep end of the swimming
pool.
    I’ve told Alex about some of my fears. But not all of them.
    I mean, it’s kind of embarrassing.
    Why do I write scary stories if I’m afraid of so many things?
    I don’t know. Maybe I write better stories because I know what being scared
feels like.
    “The lights went off so suddenly,” Alex said. She stood beside me, leaning
over my desk to see out the window. “Usually they flicker or something.”
    Sheets of rain pounded against the windowpane. Jagged streaks of lightning
crackled across the sky.
    I stayed in my desk chair, gripping the arms tightly. “I’m glad Adam isn’t
here,” I murmured. “He’d just make fun of me.”
    “But you’re not very scared now—are you?” Alex asked.
    An explosion of thunder made me nearly jump out of the chair.
    “A little,” I confessed.
    And then I heard the footsteps. Heavy, thudding footsteps from out in the
hall.
    Thunder roared again.
    I spun away from the window. And listened to the footsteps, thudding heavily
on the carpet.
    “Who’s there?” I called through the darkness.
    I saw a flicker of yellow light in the doorway. A shadow swept over the
wallpaper in the hall.
    Dad stepped into the room. “This is so weird,” he said. He was carrying two
candles in candlesticks. Their flames bent and nearly went out as he carried
them to my desk.
    “Where did that storm come from?” Dad asked, setting the candles beside my
typewriter. “Are you okay, Zackie?”
    I forgot. Dad also knows I’m scared of the dark.
    “I’m fine,” I told him. “Thanks for the candles.”
    Dad stared out the window. We couldn’t really see anything out there. The
rain was coming down too hard.
    “The sky was clear a few seconds ago,” Dad said, leaning over me to get a
better view. “I can’t believe such a big storm could blow in so quickly.”
    “It’s weird,” I agreed.
    We stared at the rain for a minute or so. Sheets of lightning made the
backyard glow like silver.
    “I’m going to call your mother,” Dad said. “I’m going to tell her to wait out
the storm.” He patted me on the back, then headed to the door.
    “Don’t you want a candle?” I called after him.
    “No. I’ll find my way,” he replied. “I have a flashlight in the