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

roof.
    “Dad?” I called. “Hey, Dad—we need more candles!”
    No reply.
    We stepped into the living room. Two candles glowed on the mantelpiece. Two
more stood side by side on the coffee table in front of the couch.
    “Dad?” I called. “Where are you?”
    Holding our candles high, Alex and I made our way to the den. Then the
kitchen. Then Mom and Dad’s bedroom.
    No Dad.
    Holding my candle tightly in one hand, I pulled open the door to the
basement. “Dad? Are you down there?”
    Silence.
    I felt another tingling chill run down my back. I turned to Alex. “He—he’s
gone!” I stammered. “We’re all alone!”

 
 
16
     
     
    “He has to be here,” Alex insisted. “Why would he go out in this
storm?”
    “For ice cream?” I suggested. “He really wanted some ice cream.”
    Alex frowned. “Your dad would go out in this storm to get a cup of ice cream?
That’s impossible.”
    “You don’t know my dad!” I replied.
    “He’s here,” Alex insisted. She set down the candle and cupped her hands
around her mouth. “Mr. Beauchamp? Mr. Beauchamp?” she called.
    No reply.
    Wind howled outside the living-room window. Lightning flickered.
    “Hey—!” I cried.
    In the flash of bright light, I saw a car in the driveway. Dad’s car.
    I made my way to the window and peered out. “Dad didn’t drive anywhere,” I
told Alex. “His car is still here. And he wouldn’t walk.”
    “Mr. Beauchamp? Mr. Beauchamp?” Alex tried again.
    “Weird,” I muttered. “He wouldn’t go out without telling us—would he? He—he just disappeared.”
    Alex’s eyes flashed. Her expression changed. She narrowed her eyes at me.
    “What’s wrong?” I asked. “Why are you staring at me like that?”
    “Zackie—what was the last sentence you typed?” she demanded, still
squinting at me.
    “Huh?”
    “In your story,” she said impatiently. “What was the last sentence?”
    I thought hard. Then I recited it:
    “ALEX AND ZACKIE WERE ALONE IN THE DARK HOUSE, LISTENING TO THE STORM.”
    Alex nodded her head solemnly.
    “So what?” I asked. “What does the story have to do with anything?”
    “Don’t you see?” Alex replied. “You wrote that we were all alone in the house—and now we’re all alone !”
    I stared back at her. I still didn’t know what she was talking about.
    “Zackie—this is amazing!” she cried. “What is the first sentence of
the story?”
    I told it to her:
    “IT WAS A DARK AND STORMY NIGHT.”
    “Yes!” Alex cried excitedly. Her eyes went wide. The candle shook in her
hand. “Yes! A dark and stormy night! But it had been a nice night—right?”
    “Huh?” I struggled to follow her.
    “Your dad said there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. Remember? That’s why he
wanted to walk into town.”
    “Yeah. Right. So what?” I demanded.
    She let out an impatient sigh. “So then you typed that it was dark and stormy—and guess what? It became dark and stormy.”
    “But, Alex—” I started.
    She raised a finger to her lips to silence me. “And then you typed that we
were all alone in the dark house. And that came true too!”
    “Oh, no!” I groaned. “You’re not going to tell me that my story is coming
true—are you?”
    “So far it has,” she insisted. “Every word of it.”
    “That’s really dumb,” I told her. “I think this storm has freaked you out
more than me!”
    “Then how else do you explain it?” Alex shot back.
    “Explain it? A big rainstorm came up. That’s how I explain it.”
    I picked up a candlestick from the mantel. Now I had one in each hand. I
started back to my room.
    Alex followed me. “How do you explain your dad disappearing into thin air?”
    Our shadows edged along the wall, bending in the flickering light. I wished
the electricity would come back on.
    I stepped into my room. “Dad didn’t disappear. He went out,” I told Alex. I
sighed. “Your idea is crazy. Just because I typed that it was stormy out…”
    “Let’s test