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    Fright Christmas
    Fright Christmas
    Fright Christmas
    Ebook91 pages1 hour

    Fright Christmas

    By R.L. Stine

    3/5

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    About this ebook

    Santa is watching Kenny Frobisher this year. Watching him do rotten, nasty things. Kenny’s the biggest bully in Shadyside. And he’s out to ruin everyone’s holiday.

    And then he gets himself trapped in a closet in Dalby’s Department Store on Christmas Eve.

    When Kenny finally gets out, the store is locked. Deserted. And Kenny is alone. Until the three most frightening ghosts of Fear Street arrive—to wish Kenny a Scary Christmas.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherAladdin
    Release dateDec 18, 2012
    ISBN9781442487741
    Fright Christmas
    Author

    R.L. Stine

    R.L. Stine invented the teen horror genre with Fear Street, the bestselling teen horror series of all time. He also changed the face of children’s publishing with the mega-successful Goosebumps series, which went on to become a worldwide multimedia phenomenon. Guinness World Records cites Stine as the most prolific author of children’s horror fiction novels. He lives in New York City with his wife, Jane, and their dog, Lucky.

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    • 3/5
      Scott gets "Aqua Apes" in the mail (sea monkeys), and they seem pathetic at first, but one seems to actually be a monkey. The monkey gets bigger and bigger and Scott and Glen think it's great- at first. Then the monkey keeps getting bigger and starts ruining everything in sight. They catch it and let is shrivel without water.

    Book preview

    Fright Christmas - R.L. Stine

    CONTENTS

    Chapter 1

    Chapter 2

    Chapter 3

    Chapter 4

    Chapter 5

    Chapter 6

    Chapter 7

    Chapter 8

    Chapter 9

    Chapter 10

    Chapter 11

    Chapter 12

    Chapter 13

    Chapter 14

    Chapter 15

    Chapter 16

    Chapter 17

    Chapter 18

    Chapter 19

    Chapter 20

    Chapter 21

    Chapter 22

    ‘Don’t Ever Get Sick at Granny’s’ Excerpt

    About R. L. Stine

    1

    "Kenny, look! My little sister’s face lit up with a big smile. She held up a ballerina doll for me to see. Isn’t she beautiful? She sighed. This is the one I want for Christmas."

    My mom took Kristi to see the ballet Sleeping Beauty last month. Now that’s all she talks about, all day long. Ballerinas. Ballerinas. Ballerinas.

    Are you sure this is the one you want? I asked her.

    Kristi’s head bobbed up and down. Oh, yes! she said.

    Let’s see if she can twirl. I took the doll from Kristi and spun her around on her head.

    Kenny! Stop. You’re ruining her hair, Kristi wailed.

    The doll spun to a stop. She fell flat on her back and her eyelids jammed shut.

    "Look, Kristi. She is the one you want, I exclaimed. She can be Sleeping Beauty."

    I tossed the doll on a shelf.

    Kenny! Give her back to me! Kristi brushed her short blond curls from her face. I have to show her to Santa—so he’ll know what to bring me for Christmas.

    Christmas.

    That’s why I was stuck here—in the middle of Dalby’s Department Store. On Christmas Eve. In the toy department. With Santa and his dumb elves and my six-year-old sister, Kristi.

    It’s not that I have anything against Christmas. I mean I like the presents—it’s all the peace on earth stuff I hate.

    Anyway, Mom said I had to watch Kristi while she finished up her Christmas shopping—which ruined my whole night.

    I think Christmas Eve is the best night of the year. It’s when I sneak into our neighbors’ yards—and unscrew all the lightbulbs on their Christmas trees.

    Kristi tugged on my sleeve. Come on, Kenny. We have to get in line to meet Santa. I have to sit on his lap and tell him what I want.

    Santa had to go back to the North Pole, I told her. We can’t see him. He’s not here anymore.

    Someone tapped me on the shoulder.

    Uh-oh. I hope it’s not Mom. I hope she didn’t hear me just lie to Kristi. I’ll be in for it big-time.

    It wasn’t Mom. It was worse.

    Timmy Smathers. A real nerd. And the shortest kid from my class at Shadyside Middle School.

    Hi, Kenny! Timmy greeted me with his big goofy smile. Isn’t this toy department awesome?

    I stared at him blankly for a second. Then I glanced down at him and said, "Oh, Timmy—it’s you. For a second I thought you were one of Santa’s elves.

    Timmy’s smile faded from his face. He hates when anyone mentions his height. So I do it as much as I can.

    Hi, Kristi! Timmy turned to my sister. Did you tell Santa what you want for Christmas? he asked in his squeaky little voice.

    Kristi shook her head. She peered down at her sneakers.

    Santa isn’t here anymore. He had to go back to the North Pole, she whispered. Kenny said so.

    Then she glanced up at me. Her lower lip trembled. I spotted a big fat tear slide out of the corner of her eye and down her cheek.

    Hey! Don’t cry, Kristi. Timmy smiled his goofy smile again. Kenny made a mistake. Santa is sitting in his village right now. He won’t leave until all the kids get a turn to talk to him.

    Kristi’s face turned beet red. She scrunched up her nose—her angry look.

    You lied to me, Kenny! she yelled. Take me to Santa’s Village. Right now!

    Bye, Kenny. Merry Christmas! Timmy shouted cheerfully as he strolled away from us.

    Bye, Tiny. I mean Timmy, I called back. Merry Christmas!

    If you don’t take me right now, I’m telling Mom how you lied to me about Santa, Kristi threatened.

    Okay! We’re going. Come on, I groaned.

    I grabbed Kristi’s hand and tugged her toward the end of the toy department—to Santa’s Village.

    Santa’s Village. The stupidest place I ever saw. A big sign at the entrance said: SANTA’S STREET! FILLED WITH TOYS—FOR ALL GOOD LITTLE GIRLS AND BOYS!

    At each side of the entrance stood two tall wooden soldiers. Big plastic structures, painted to look like gingerbread houses, lined the street inside the entrance. They were dusted with fake snow. Icicles hung from their rooftops.

    We walked through a little white gate and stood in line with the other kids.

    I craned my neck to see up ahead.

    At the very end of Santa Street, I

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