By Vivian Vande Velde
A boy is trapped in a possessed vehicle that has stalled within the direction of an oncoming teach. a lady is dragged right into a crypt in the course of a box journey to an eighteenth-century cemetery. A crew of pals meet their destiny after an unsettling stopover at with a backwoods psychic. and that is simply the beginning. Celebrated author Vivian Vande Velde is at her spine-tingling top during this selection of 13 frightening tales, all of which happen on Halloween evening. With stories that diversity from the stressful to the downright ugly, this can be one assortment that young people probably want to learn with the lighting on . . . and the doorways locked.
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Additional info for All Hallows' Eve: 13 stories
One fender was primer gray and the rest of the car was dull blue dotted by rust. Maybe the guy hadn't even known about the GPS. It wasn't like there was obvious equipment, like Justin's uncle Herm needed to set on the dashboard of his car. Just this sexy voice coming out of his radio speaker. " Not that he needed a GPS for that. '" "Three seventy-six Buggy Whip Lane," Justin said, "in Baldwin. '" "Calculating route," MARIAN told him. " Justin asked. "From monitoring police-band frequencies. A gasoline tanker has overturned and is leaking, so traffic is being detoured off the expressway at Jefferson Avenue, then being routed through the town of Hadleyport and sent via Goose Hill Road to Route 37 in Craigmont.
Morgan Roehmar let the girl's dead body slump against his and felt the excitement that killing always brought. She was stupid. Why in the world did she assume a ghost would choose to look the way its body had looked at the moment of death—all bloody or diseased? Or old? He much preferred to take on the form of the way he had looked at seventeen—the age of the boys he'd killed. But that had been a mistake, killing boys, he now knew, thinking of the woman who had betrayed him to the police, thinking of this one.
Ashley missed the answer due to static, which was probably from dropping her headset and/or the battery pack once too often. She jiggled the wire that connected them, and by then somebody else was off on a different joke—evidence, if she had needed it, that Dan's joke hadn't led to uncontrollable laughter. "Here comes the rain," Nikko announced, and in another moment it started, as suddenly as someone turning on the shower, sharp and distinct-sounding, like an infinite number of thrown pebbles.
All Hallows' Eve: 13 stories by Vivian Vande Velde