The Most Frightening Story Ever Told Read Online Free PDF Page B

said.
    “Yikes?” said Mr. Rapscallion. “Is that all you can say, kid? Yikes? Jeez, you can’t just say ‘yikes’ and leave it there. That was one of my most expensive and hopefully frightening installations. Much too frightening I would suggest for as small a word as ‘yikes.’ ‘Yikes’ is just pathetic.”
    “But ‘yikes’ is what I say when I get scared.”
    “Yes, but you also said it when the creature from the black canal attempted to grab your ankle.” Mr. Rapscallion shook his head. “It’s a little disappointing, to say the least. I was expecting an ear-splitting scream of terror. Or that you might be reduced, as they say, to a gibbering wreck. But you’re not gibbering. You’re not even muttering.”
    “Perhaps it didn’t seem quite as frightening because I was with you, Mr. Rapscallion,” said Billy, by way of an apology. “All the same, it was pretty frightening. And impressive.”
    “All right, but we’re certainly going to have to see what we can do about that ‘yikes’ of yours, Billy,” he said ominously. “I’m sorry, but I simply can’t have someone in the Haunted House of Books getting away with anything as lame as ‘yikes.’ It’s not good for my self-esteem. The fact is that now I’m going to have to render you a gibbering wreck before the day is out.”
    Billy thought he’d better add some more adjectives just to make Mr. Rapscallion feel better.
    “No, really, it was horrifying. Terrifying. Ghastly. I’m sure I’ll have a nightmare about that one, tonight. When I get to bed. I shouldn’t be at all surprised if the sight of that flaming head haunts me forever. It was very frightening when the organist’s head caught fire. And when the organist knew my name. By the way, how
did
he know my name? And what should I beware of, exactly? And how did his head catch fire? I mean, that was amazing. And how did you make a machine that could run so fast?”
    Mr. Rapscallion grinned. “How did he know your name? Simple. Didn’t you hear me say your name twice as I came through the doorway? That’s how he knew. And it wasn’t a machine you saw just now. That’s Gary. Gary’s the organist at St. Mary’s Church, in Hitchcock. Father Merrin’s church. He comes here once a week to wear that costume, play the organ and generally scare the heck out of anyone who’s dumb enough to come down here.”
    “But the head?” said Billy. “Doesn’t it hurt to set your head on fire?”
    “Not if you’re wearing a flame-retardant hood underneath a mask soaked with a little lighter fluid,” explained Mr. Rapscallion. “That’s
one
of the reasons Gary runs away from the organ while his head is on fire. If he runs fast enough, the wind puts the flames out. Eventually. Most of the time. Although twice he has had to dive into the canal to make sure.”
    “Ouch,” said Billy.
    “He’s learned the hard way not to use too much lighter fluid. Gary used to have a full head of hair. Now he tends to keep it short. For obvious reasons.”
    Billy walked around the subterranean library, full of admiration for the effort Mr. Rapscallion had made to create his rather special bookshop.
    “This is a wonderful place,” he said. “Wonderful. I think it must be the best bookshop in all the world.”
    “Well, thank you, Billy. But like I said before, don’t tell me, tell your friends.”
    “I don’t really have any friends,” said Billy. “There’s you, of course. Would you mind it if I thought of you as my friend?”
    “Next question,” said Mr. Rapscallion.
    “How did you get started?” Billy asked him. “What gave you the idea?”
    “You really want to hear about that?”
    “Of course.”
    “Well then, you’d better come over to the fireplace and sit yourself down.”
    Beside the fire they drew up two chairs as big as wooden thrones and sat down.
    “Are you sitting comfortably?” Mr. Rapscallion asked Billy.
    “Yes sir.”
    “Then I’ll begin.”

“This is a story