Nightmare Hour by R. L. Stine

names?”
    If only I could see their faces. But their features were a blur, hidden behind a hazy glow of light.
    â€œWhat are your names? Can you hear me?”
    Nothing. They continued rolling the dice, moving their game pieces.
    Still calling to them, I walked across the room. I reached out. Tried to grab a boy’s shoulder.
    My hand went right through it.
    He didn’t react.
    I tried to pull a girl’s hair.
    Nothing. I couldn’t grasp her hair, couldn’t even feel it.
    I tore off the mask in disgust. “I can’t reach them,” I told my friends.
    â€œHere. Try this,” Julie said. She shoved a piece of paper into my hand. “I wrote a note to them. I told them to get out of the basement right away.”
    I handed Julie the mask. “You try to give the note to them.”
    She hesitated, then pulled on the mask. Valerie, Bill, and I watched Julie cross the room. We watched her try again and again to deliver the note. But the paper remained in her hand.
    Finally she pulled off the mask and tossed it to me. “No way,” she said. “They can’t see it.”
    â€œThey’re all going to die!” Valerie wailed. “This is horrible!”
    â€œThere has to be a way to communicate,” I insisted. “Some secret way. This basement holds the secret. I know it.Some secret way to get to these kids and…”
    I think all four of us looked at the padlocked closet at the same time.
    A secret…the secret closet…the only closet in the basement that was locked.
    â€œWe have to open it,” Valerie said. “I’ll bet we’ll find what we’re looking for in there.”
    â€œWait,” I said. “I have a bad feeling about this. Maybe we shouldn’t open that closet door. Maybe it’s locked for a good reason.”
    But it was too late. They were already in front of the closet, tugging on the rusted padlock.
    â€œPlease, guys!” I begged. “This is too scary. I don’t think we should open…”
    Using his strength, Bill pulled the old padlock open. He lifted it off the latch and tossed it onto the floor.
    Valerie frowned at me. “We might as well see what’s inside, Robb,” she said softly.
    She turned the handle. The heavy old door creaked as she pushed it open.
    The closet light flashed on.
    All four of us squeezed inside.
    And gasped in shock.
    Â 
    â€œOld clothes!” Julie declared, holding up a faded, lace-collared blouse. “Piles of them.”
    Bill sneezed. “Check out these shoes.” He held up a pair of black high-topped shoes. They had buttons instead of shoelaces. He blew the dust off them and sneezed again.
    Julie held a long, black corduroy jumper up in front ofher. “Wow. Pretty awesome, huh? This is like the clothes those kids from the past were wearing.”
    I shuddered. “I really don’t think we should touch this stuff.”
    But Julie was already buttoning the lace blouse over her T-shirt. And Bill was admiring a black suit jacket with wide lapels.
    â€œStop!” I pleaded. “I think this stuff belonged to the dead kids.”
    â€œYes! That’s right!” Julie said, running her hand down the heavy fabric. “This is what they were wearing!”
    â€œSo we have to dress up in it,” Valerie insisted. “Don’t you see, Robb? Maybe this is the secret we’ve been looking for. Maybe if we put their clothes on, we can communicate with them.”
    â€œYeah, right!” Bill agreed. “Maybe they’ll be able to hear us and talk to us if we’re dressed in their clothes.”
    I wasn’t sure it would work, but I joined the others. I pulled on an itchy shirt with a stiff, white collar and a pair of baggy tweed pants that stopped just below my knees.
    We all admired each other for a few minutes. Valerie and Julie looked a little weird with their hair combed up in buns. We complained about how