Nightmare Hour by R. L. Stine Page A

uncomfortable all the clothing was and how kids were so uncool in the old days.
    â€œLet’s try the mask,” Valerie suggested. “Let’s see if we can reach those kids.”
    â€œNo, wait,” Julie insisted. “Let’s do this right. We need one more thing.”
    She found the old board games in the wooden crate and set Pah-Cheesi down on the floor. “Okay, sit down, everyone,” she said. “Come on. Let’s play the game. Just like the four kids from the past.”
    We obediently dropped to the floor and sat around the board game. “I hope it works,” I said. “I hope we can reach them now.”
    After we played for a few minutes I grabbed the black mask and started to pull it on, but I stopped when I heard the heavy thuds coming down the stairs. Slow, steady footsteps heavy enough to make the stairs creak.
    We all turned to see Cal. “A dress-up game?” he called. “You all look very sophisticated. Don’t let me interrupt.”
    He disappeared around the side of the furnace and began working his wrench around the pipes.
    This is perfect now, I realized. With Cal back there, we have created exactly the same scene. But can we talk to those poor kids? Can we warn them?
    I reached again for the black mask.
    But I never had time to put it on.
    â€œThe furnace!” Cal screamed from behind us. “It--it’s going to blow! ”
    The explosion knocked us all onto our backs. I gasped for breath. Pain shot through my body.
    I heard the loud craaaack above my head.
    I looked up in time to see the ceiling beam splitting…splitting in two….
    All four of us were screaming now.
    Screaming…screaming…as the beam came crashing down and the ceiling started to collapse.
    And in the final two seconds, in that last terrifying moment of my life, I realized the horror of it.
    I realized the truth about the black mask.
    We were wrong. We were so wrong.
    Those kids were us!
    The mask never showed us the past--it showed us the future!

Afraid of Clowns
    INTRODUCTION
    ILLUSTRATED BY VINCE NATALE
    A fraid of clowns? Why?
    Maybe it’s the mouth--the blood-red slash against the ghostly white face. Maybe it’s the silence. Maybe it’s because of Christopher….
    When I was a little kid, my friend Christopher told me that clowns were really bad guys. He said they were criminals who hid from the law by disguising themselves under all that makeup. He told me if you ever see a clown without his makeup--you’ll die!
    I didn’t believe him. Not for too long, anyway. But I thought about Christopher when I came up with this Nightmare Hour story. It’s about a boy who is afraid of clowns--and he should be!
    This story is for you, Christopher. Sweet dreams….
    I ’ve always been afraid of clowns. I know it’s silly, but I can’t help it. I don’t think clowns are funny. I think they are scary.
    I know how my fear started. I can remember it so clearly….
    It was Billy Waldman’s third birthday party. All the kids there were three or four.
    Billy had a clown at his party. At first the clown did magic tricks. Later he started squirting us in the face with a big squirt gun. Some kids laughed, but I didn’t think it was funny.
    I remember the clown’s painted smile and his red mop-hair wig. But what I remember most are the clown’s eyes when he came up close to me.
    He didn’t have laughing eyes. His eyes weren’t kind. Beneath all the white clown makeup his eyes were cruel.
    The clown squirted us with whipped cream. Then he smashed a pie into Billy’s face. Other kids laughed and laughed. But I felt like crying.
    And before I knew it, the clown came right up to me. He backed me into a corner, bumping me with his pillow belly.
    The other kids forgot about Billy and began laughing at the way the clown was bumping me against the wall. But I was really frightened.
    â€œWhat’s your