Wanted by R. L. Stine Page A

night air.
    Silence. Except for the clatter of the pumpkin leaves. And the scrape … the scrape … scrape … scrape of the long vines as they crawled over the soft dirt.
    No. Wait.
    Why were the vines making that sound? That wasn’t normal — was it?
    Wrapping my arms around myself to keep warm, I took a few steps away from the back of the house. I stepped out of the light from my bedroom window and moved toward the pumpkin field.
    It took a while for my eyes to adjust to the blackness. It was so dark, I couldn’t see where the sky ended and the ground began.
    But as I moved closer, I could hear the slither of the vines clearly. Yes. I could hear them stretching … stretching …
    The vines were moving. Dozens of them.
    Crawling toward the house, dragging the pumpkins with them.
    I realized I wasn’t breathing. I’d been holding my breath. I let it out in a long whoosh. My breath steamed in front of me.
    And as the steam floated away, my eyes focused on some pumpkins on the ground. Large, round pumpkins right in front of me.
    I gasped when I saw them moving. Their sides moved in, then out. Tiny movements. But I could see them.
    In, then out.
    They were breathing.
    The pumpkins were breathing.
    â€œNooooo.” A low moan escaped my throat. My whole body shook with fright.
    I turned and ran. My shoes slid on the loose dirt as I bolted back into the house. I burst down the hall and into my parents’ room.
    I know. I was supposed to knock. But I was too frightened to remember anything. I just lowered my shoulder and pushed the door open.
    They were sound asleep under the covers in their bed. “Mom! Dad!” I ran to the bed and shook them awake.
    â€œHuh? What?” Mom blinked her eyes in confusion.
    â€œDevin? What’s wrong?” Dad’s voice was clogged with sleep.
    â€œIt’s … the vines,” I choked out. I was panting so hard I could barely speak. “They’re growing. They’re moving. I saw them. You’ve got to believe me. The vines are crawling like snakes. Crawling to the house. And the pumpkins — I saw them breathing !”
    â€œYes, I know,” Dad said, raising his head from the pillow. “I meant to tell you about that.”

“Huh?” I stared at Dad, my heart pounding.
    â€œDevin,” Dad said, “we also hired two dozen monkeys to sit on the pumpkins and keep them from hopping away.”
    Mom and Dad both burst out laughing.
    I stood there with my mouth hanging open. I waited for them to stop. “Uh … does this mean you don’t believe me?”
    That made them start laughing again.
    â€œNo, we don’t believe you,” Mom said. She reached out and grabbed my hand. Her hand was very warm. Mine was frozen.
    â€œWe don’t believe the vines were crawling or the pumpkins were breathing,” Mom said. “We know you don’t want to be here, kiddo. But making up scary stories won’t help you get home.”
    â€œI — I didn’t make it up.”
    She squeezed my hand. “Go back to bed, Devin. You were having one of your bad dreams.” She tucked her hand back under the covers.
    I turned and started to the bedroom door. “Sorry I woke you up.”
    I was pretty sure it wasn’t a bad dream. It’s true I have a lot of nightmares. And yes, they are very real. And I remember them all after I wake up. And sometimes I get confused and think they really happened. But not for long.
    And this time I knew it couldn’t be a nightmare. Because I wasn’t asleep. When I saw the reflection of the jack-o’-lantern, I was talking to Lu-Ann on the phone.
    I was finally starting to breathe normally. I walked down the hall to my room. This was an old farmhouse, and the floorboards all creaked as I walked.
    The house groaned and cracked and made weird noises all the time. And the old radiators hissed and rattled when the heat came up.
    Like a