39 How I Got My Shrunken Head by R.L. Stine

Author:R.L. Stine [Stine, R.L.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

15

“Ow!”

I swatted a mosquito on my neck. Too late. I could feel the throb of its bite.

Rubbing my neck, I took a few steps through the tall weeds. I kept the circle of light in front of my feet.

Aa-OO-tah. Aa-OO-tah.

A shrill cry—very close by—made me stop.

Night in the jungle belongs to the creatures, I remembered with a shiver.

Aa-OO-tah. Aa-OO-tah.

What was it?

Not a giant rabbit. It sounded really BIG.

I spun the light in a circle, keeping it low over the grass and vines. The smooth tree trunks shone purple in the pale light.

I didn’t see any animals.

I lowered the light.

My whole body was shaking. Despite the damp heat of the night, I couldn’t stop shivering.

A wind made the leaves all flap, the trees bend and whisper.

The jungle was alive, I realized.

Insects chittered all around. Fat leaves scraped and cracked. I heard the soft crackle of animal footsteps, running over the ground..

Aa-OO-tah. Aa-OO-tah.

What was that?

Without realizing it, I had pressed myself against a low tree. I took a deep breath and held it, listening hard.

Was the animal moving closer?

Thick clumps of leaves hung down from the low branches, forming a kind of cave. I’m protected under here, I thought, gazing all around. I suddenly felt a little safer, hidden under the thick leaves, under the low branches.

Through my leafy roof, I glimpsed a sliver of white moonlight. It made the leaves gleam like silver.

I clicked off the flashlight and lowered myself to a sitting position on the ground. Leaning back against the smooth trunk, I gazed up at the moon, taking slow, steady breaths.

As soon as I felt calmer, I realized how tired I was. The sleepiness swept over me like a heavy blanket. I yawned loudly. My eyelids seemed to weigh a hundred pounds.

I tried to stay alert. But I couldn’t fight the drowsiness.

With the chittering of insects for a lullaby, I leaned my head against the tree trunk and drifted into a deep sleep.

I dreamed about shrunken heads.

Dozens of shrunken heads, the leathery skin purple and green, the black eyes glowing like dark coals, the dry black lips pulled back in angry snarls.

The heads floated and danced through my dream. They darted back and forth like tennis balls. They flew into me, bounced against my chest, bounced off my head. But I didn’t feel them.

They bounced and floated. And then the dry lips opened, and they all began to sing. “Hurry, Mark. Hurry.” That was their song.

The words came out hoarse and raspy. The sound of air rattling through dead leaves.

“Hurry, Mark. Hurry.” An ugly, frightening chant.

“Hurry, Mark. Hurry.”

The black lips twisted into a sneer as they sang. The coal eyes glowed. The heads—dozens of shriveled, wrinkled heads—bobbed and bounced.

I woke up with the whispered words in my ear.

I blinked. Gray morning light shimmered down through the tree leaves. My back ached. My clothes felt damp.

It took me a few seconds to remember where I was.

The frightening dream stayed in my mind. My hand slid up to my T-shirt pocket. I felt the shrunken head tucked tightly inside.

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