Read Night of the Living Dummy Online Free

  CONTENTS

TITLE Page

1

2

3

four

five

half-dozen

7

8

9

10

11

12

xiii

14

fifteen

16

17

xviii

19

xx

21

22

23

24

25

26

27

28

29

30

31

32

TEASER

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Likewise Available

COPYRIGHT

The stairs up to my cranium are narrow and steep. The fifth step is loose and wobbles when you lot stand up on it. All the other stairs creak and groan.

My whole house creaks and groans. It's a big, old business firm. And information technology'south kind of falling apart. Mom and Dad don't really have the money to repair it.

"Trina — bustle!" my brother, Dan, whispered. His words echoed in the steep attic stairwell. Dan is ten, and he is ever in a hurry.

He's short and very skinny. I call up he looks like a mouse. He has short chocolate-brown hair, nighttime eyes, and a pointy little mentum. And he'south always scurrying around like a mouse searching for a place to hide.

Sometimes I phone call him Mouse. You know. Like a nickname. Dan hates it. And so I only telephone call him Mouse when I want to make him mad.

Dan and I don't look at all like brother and sis. I'm tall and I have curly red hair and green eyes. I'thou a little chubby, merely Mom says non to worry about it. I'll probably slim down past the fourth dimension I'm thirteen, next August.

Anyway, no one would ever call me Mouse! For one affair, I'm a lot braver than Dan.

You lot have to be brave to go upwards to our attic. Non because of the creaking stairs. Or the way the wind whistles through the attic windows and makes the panes rattle. Non considering of the dim lite upward there. Or the shadows. Or the low ceiling covered with cracks.

You accept to exist brave because of the eyes.

The dozens of optics that stare at you through the darkness.

The optics that never blink. The eyes that stare with such eerie, heavy silence.

Dan reached the attic ahead of me. I heard him take a few steps over the squeaking, wooden floorboards. And then I heard him stop.

I knew why he stopped. He was staring back at the eyes, at the grinning faces.

I crept upwards behind him, moving on tiptoe. I leaned my face close to his ear. And I shouted, "BOO!"

He didn't jump.

"Trina, you're about as funny every bit a moisture sponge," he said. He shoved me away.

"I recollect wet sponges are funny," I replied. I acknowledge it. I like to annoy him.

"Give me a break," Dan muttered.

I grabbed his arm. "Okay." I pretended to break information technology in two.

I know it's impaired. But that'due south the manner my brother and I kid around all the fourth dimension.

Dad says we didn't go our sense of sense of humor from him. But I call up nosotros probably did.

Dad owns a petty camera store now. Simply earlier that he was a ventriloquist. You know. He did a comedy deed with a dummy.

Danny O'Dell and Wilbur.

That was the name of the human activity. Wilbur was the dummy, in case you didn't guess information technology.

Danny O'Dell is my dad. My brother is Dan, Jr. But he hates the word junior, so no one ever calls him that.

Except me. When I want to make him really mad!

"Someone left the attic light on," Dan said, pointing to the ceiling light. The only light in the whole attic.

Our attic is one big room. There are windows at both ends. But they are both caked with dust, so not much light gets through.

Dan and I made our manner across the room. The dummies all stared at us, their eyes big and blank. Almost of them had broad grins on their wooden faces. Some of their mouths hung open. Some of their heads tilted down so we couldn't run across their faces.

Wilbur — Dad's kickoff dummy, the original Wilbur — was perched on an old armchair. His hands were draped over the chair arms. His caput tilted against the chair back.

Dan laughed. "Wilbur looks just similar Dad taking a nap!"

I laughed, also. With his short dark-brown hair, his black eyeglasses, and his goofy grin, Wilbur looked a lot similar Dad!

The old dummy'due south black-and-yellowish checked sports jacket was worn and frayed. But Wilbur'southward confront was freshly painted. His black leather shoes were shiny.

I wooden manus had function of the pollex chipped out. Merely Wilbur looked great for such an old dummy.

Dad keeps all of the dummies in good shape. He calls the cranium his Dummy Museum. Spread around the room are a dozen old ventriloquist's dummies that he has collected.

He spends all of his spare fourth dimension fixing them upwardly. Painting them. Giving them fresh wigs. Making new suits and pants for them. Working on their insides, making sure their eyes and mouths move correctly.

These days, Dad doesn't become to use his ventriloquist skills very ofttimes. Sometimes he'll take i of the dummies to a kid's birthday party and put on a show. Sometimes people in boondocks will invite him to perform at a party to heighten coin for a school or library.

But virtually of the time the dummies merely sit up here, staring at each other.

Some of them are propped against the attic wall. Some are sprawled out on the couch. Some of them sit in folding chairs, easily crossed in their laps. Wilbur is the merely ane lucky enough to have his own armchair.

When Dan and I were little, we were afraid to come up to the attic. I didn't like the way the dummies stared at me. I thought their grins were evil.

Dan liked to stick his hand into their backs and move their mouths. He made the dummies say frightening things.

"I'chiliad going to get you, Trina!" he would make Rocky growl. Rocky is the mean-faced dummy that sneers instead of smiles. He'due south dressed like a tough guy in a reddish-and-white striped T-shirt and blackness jeans. He's really evil-looking. "I'm coming to your room tonight, Trina. And I'one thousand going to Go you!"

"Stop information technology, Dan! Terminate it!" I would scream. Then I would become running downstairs and tell Mom that Dan was scaring me.

I was only eight or nine.

I'm a lot older at present. And braver. Only I notwithstanding feel a little creeped out when I come up hither.

I know information technology's dumb. But sometimes I imagine the dummies sitting around upwards here, talking to each other, giggling and laughing.

Sometimes late at night when I'm lying in bed, the ceiling creaks over my head. Footsteps! I picture the dummies walking around in the attic, their heavy blackness shoes clonking over the floorboards.

I picture show them wrestling around on the onetime couch. Or playing a wild game of catch, their wooden hands snapping as they take hold of the ball.

Dumb? Of course it's dumb.

But I tin't help it.

They're supposed to be funny little guys. But they scare me.

I hate the way they stare at me without blinking. And I hate the red-lipped grins frozen on their faces.

Dan and I come up upwardly to the attic considering Dan likes to play with them. And because I like to see how Dad fixes them upward.

Simply I really don't like to come to the attic alone.

Dan picked up Miss Lucy. That's the only girl dummy in the group. She has curly blond hair and bright blueish eyes.

My brother stuck his manus into the dummy's back and perched her on his knee. "Howdy, Trina," he fabricated the dummy say in a high, shrill voice.

Dan started to make her say something else. But he stopped suddenly. His mouth dropped open up — like a dummy's — and he pointed across the room.

"Trina — fifty-expect!" Dan stammered. "Over at that place!"

I turned quickly. And I saw Rocky, the hateful-looking dummy, blink his eyes.

I gasped as the dummy leaned forward and sneered. "Trina, I'chiliad going to GET you!" he growled.

I uttered a startled cry and jumped back.

I swung around, ready to run to the attic steps — and I saw Dan laughing.

"Hey!" I cried out angrily. "What'southward going on here?"

I turned back to run across Dad climb to his feet backside Rocky's chair. He carried Rocky in one arm. Dad'south grin was as wide as a dummy's!

"Gotcha!" he cried in Rocky's vocalization.

I turned angrily on my brother. "Did you know Dad was back in that location? Did you lot know Dad was here the whole fourth dimension?"

Dan nodded. "Of course."

"You ii are both dummies!" I cried. I flung my red hair back with both easily and let out an exasperated sigh. "That was so stupid!"

"You fell for it," Dan shot back, grinning at Dad.

"Who's the dummy here?" Dad made Rocky say. "Hey — who's pulling your string? I'm non a dummy — knock on wood!"

Dan laughed, only I simply shook my head.

Dad refused to give up. "Hey — come over hither!" he made Rocky say. "Scratch my dorsum. I think I've got termites!"

I gave in and laughed. I'd heard that joke a 1000000 times. But I knew Dad wouldn't stop trying until I laughed.

He'south a really good ventriloquist. You tin can never run across his lips move. Only his jokes are totally lame.

I approximate that'south why he had to give up the deed and open a camera shop. I don't know for sure. It all happened before I was born.

Dad set Rocky back on his chair. The dummy sneered upwards at us. Such a bad-news dummy. Why couldn't he smiling similar the others?

Dad pushed his eyeglasses up on his nose. "Come over here," he said. "I want to show you something."

He put ane manus on my shoulder and ane hand on Dan's shoulder and led u.s.a. to the other end of the big attic room. This is where Dad has his workshop — his worktable and all his tools and supplies for fixing up the dummies.

Dad reached under the worktable and pulled up a large brown-paper shopping pocketbook. I could tell by the grinning on his face what he had in the purse. But I didn't say anything to ruin his surprise.

Slowly, advisedly, Dad reached into the shopping bag. His smile grew wider every bit he lifted out a dummy. "Hey, guys — check this out!" Dad exclaimed.

The dummy had been folded up within the bag. Dad set it down apartment on the worktable and carefully unfolded the arms and legs. He looked similar a surgeon starting an operation.

"I found this i in a trash can," he told us. "Do you believe someone merely threw it away?"

He tilted the dummy up so we could run across it. I followed Dan upwardly to the worktable to get a better wait.

"The head was carve up in two," Dad said, placing 1 manus at the back of the dummy's neck. "But information technology took two seconds to repair it. Just a trivial gum."

I leaned close to check out Dad'south new treasure. Information technology had wavy chocolate-brown hair painted on summit of its caput. The face up was kind of foreign. Kind of intense.

The eyes were brilliant blue. They shimmered. Sort of like existent optics. The dummy had bright ruddy painted lips, curved upwardly into a grinning.

An ugly grin, I thought. Kind of gross and nasty.

His lower lip had a chip on i side so that it didn't quite match the other lip.

The dummy wore a gray double-breasted arrange over a white shirt collar. The collar was stapled to his neck.

He didn't have a shirt. Instead, his wooden chest had been painted white. Big black leather shoes — very scuffed upwardly — dangled from his skinny grayness pants legs.

"Can yous believe someone just tossed him into the trash?" Dad repeated. "Isn't he not bad?"

"Yep. Swell," I murmured. I didn't like the new dummy at all. I didn't like his face, the style his blue eyes gleamed, the crooked smile.

Dan must have felt the aforementioned fashion. "He's kind of tough-looking," he said. He picked up 1 of the dummy's wooden easily. It had deep scratches all over it. The knuckles appeared cut and hobbling. As if the dummy had been in a fight.

"Not as tough-looking as Rocky over there," Dad replied. "Only he does take a strange smile." He picked at the small chip in the dummy's lip. "I can fill up that in with some liquid wood filler. Then I'll give the whole face a fresh paint task."

"What's the dummy's name?" I asked.

Dad shrugged. "Beats me. Maybe we'll telephone call him Smiley."

"Smiley?" I made a disgusted face.

Dad started to reply. But the phone rang downstairs. One band. 2. Three.

"I estimate your mom is however at that school coming together," Dad said. He ran to the stairs. "I'd better answer it. Don't touch on Smiley till I get dorsum." He vanished down the stairs.

I picked upwards the dummy's head carefully in both hands. "Dad did a peachy gluing chore," I said.

"He should practice your head next!" Dan shot back.

Typical.

"I don't think Smiley is a good name for him," Dan said, slapping the dummy'due south hands together.

"How virtually Dan Inferior?" I suggested. "Or Dan the Third?"

He ignored me. "How many dummies does Dad have now?" He turned back toward the others across the attic and quickly counted them.

I counted faster. "This new ane makes xiii," I said.

Dan's eyes went broad. "Whoa. That's an unlucky number."

"Well, if nosotros count y'all, it's fourteen!" I said.

Gotcha, Danny Boy!

Dan stuck out his tongue at me. He set the dummy'south hands downward on its chest. "Hey — what'south that?" He reached into the pocket of the gray suit jacket and pulled out a folded-up slip of paper.

"Peradventure that has the dummy'due south name on it," I said. I grabbed the paper out of Dan'southward hands and raised it to my face up. I unfolded it and started to read.

"Well?" Dan tried to take hold of information technology back. Only I swung out of his accomplish. "What'due south the name?"

"It doesn't say," I told him. "There are just these weird words. Foreign, I judge."

I moved my lips silently every bit I struggled to read them. And so I read the words out loud: "Karru marri odonna colina molonu karrano."

Dan'southward mouth dropped open. "Huh? What's that supposed to mean?" he cried.

He grabbed the paper from my hand. "I call up you lot read it upside down!"

"No manner!" I protested.

I glanced downward at the dummy.

The glassy blue eyes stared up at me.

Then the right eye slowly airtight. The dummy winked at me.

And then his left hand shot straight up — and slapped me in the face.

"Hey!" I shouted. I jerked dorsum every bit pain shot through my jaw.

"What's your problem?" Dan demanded, glancing up from the slip of paper.

"Didn't you see?" I shrieked. "He — he slapped me!" I rubbed my cheek.

Dan rolled his optics. "Yeah. For sure."

"No — really!" I cried. "Commencement he winked at me. And so he slapped me."

"Tell me another one," Dan groaned. "Y'all're such a jerk, Trina. Just because you autumn for Dad's jokes doesn't mean I'g going to fall for yours."

"But I'm telling the truth!" I insisted.

I glanced up to see Dad poke his head upwardly at the top of the stairs. "What's going on, guys?"

Dan folded upward the slip of paper and tucked information technology back into the dummy's jacket pocket. "Goose egg much," he told Dad.

"Dad — the new dummy!" I cried, still rubbing my aching jaw. "He slapped me!"

Dad laughed. "Deplorable, Trina. You'll have to do better than that. Yous can't child a kidder."

That's one of Dad'southward favorite expressions: "Yous can't child a kidder."

"But, Dad —" I stopped. I could see he wasn't going

to believe me. I wasn't even sure I believed it myself.

I glanced downward at the dummy. He stared blankly up at the ceiling. Totally lifeless.

"I have news, guys," Dad said, sitting the new dummy upwardly. "That was my brother — your uncle Cal — on the phone. He'south coming for a short visit while Aunt Susan's abroad on business. And he'southward bringing your cousin, Zane, with him. It's Zane's jump vacation from school, too."

Dan and I both groaned. Dan stuck his finger in his mouth and pretended to puke.

Zane isn't our favorite cousin.

He'southward our only cousin.

He's twelve, but you'd think he was five or 6. He's pretty nerdy. His olfactory organ runs a lot. And he's kind of a wimp.

Kind of a major wimp.

"Hey, stop groaning," Dad scolded. "Zane is your merely cousin. He'southward family."

Dan and I groaned over again. We couldn't help it.

"He isn't a bad kid," Dad continued, narrowing his eyes at united states of america behind his spectacles. That meant he was being serious. "You two have to promise me something."

"What kind of promise?" I asked.

"You have to promise me that you lot'll be nicer to Zane this time."

"We were nice to him final fourth dimension," Dan insisted. "Nosotros talked to him, didn't we?"

"Yous scared him to death last time," Dad said, frowning. "You made him believe that this old house is haunted. And y'all scared him so badly, he ran outside and refused to come back in."

"Dad, it was all a joke," I protested.

"Yeah. It was a scream!" Dan agreed. He poked me in the side with his elbow. "A scream. Become information technology?"

"Not funny," Dad said unhappily. "Not funny at all. Listen, guys — Zane can't help it if he's a lilliputian timid. He'll outgrow it. You just take to be nice to him."

Dan snickered. "Zane is agape of your dummies, Dad. Can you lot believe information technology?"

"Then don't drag him up here and scare the life out of him," Dad ordered.

"How nearly if we just play 1 or two little jokes on him?" Dan asked.

"No tricks," Dad replied firmly. "None."

Dan and I exchanged glances.

"Hope me," Dad insisted. "I mean information technology. Right at present. Both of yous. Hope me there will be no tricks. Promise me you lot won't endeavour to scare your cousin."

"Okay. I promise," I said. I raised my right hand as if I were swearing an oath.

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