Mega Sleepover 1 by Rose Impey

Author:Rose Impey [Impey, Rose]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780007480340
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
Published: 2002-01-15T00:00:00+00:00

Even if I say so myself, I tell the best stories. My gran says it’s because I’m a bit of an actress. And I suppose I am. I’d love to be in films or on TV. I try to do it like our teacher, Mrs Weaver. She tells us brill stories, with all the voices and lots of expression. Not like Mr Short, our last teacher. He used to talk down his nose. He was bor-ing. We used to fall asleep when he read us anything.

But I do all the voices. I’m especially good at creepy voices. I know when to whisper and then, when everyone’s leaning forward so they can hear, I suddenly shout and make them jump out of their skins, just when they’re not expecting it.

I looked over my shoulder, as if something was already in the room with us, lurking in the shadows. I lowered my voice and whispered, “Prepare to meet … the Blur!”

“Uh-oh,” said Lyndsey, grinning. “Not the Blur!”

“Oh, no,” said Fliss. “I don’t like this.”

“Shhhh,” said the others.

The Blur is this character I invented. “It doesn’t have a face,” I told them, “it’s just this shape that can pass through walls. It can slide through anything, even bullet-proof glass.

“Sometimes, when you think you’ve seen something out of the corner of your eye and then you look again real quick, and it’s gone, that was the Blur.”

“That’s how fast it moves, like a flash. It just glides through anything and then hides, like a shape-shifter, pretending to be something ordinary and harmless. It might be hiding behind the curtains, or in the corner of the stairs, or behind the toilet door, or under your bed, or even in the bottom of your sleeping bag. It might be waiting for you right now,” I said, dropping my voice even lower. “So be careful, or it might jump out and get you!”

“Don’t do that!” said Fliss. “You’ll make me sick.”

“Yeah,” said Lyndz. “You nearly scared me to death.”

Rosie was clutching her throat. “Honestly, Frankie, you could have warned us.”

“That was wicked,” said Kenny. “My turn next. Erm, let me think…”

She shone her torch under her chin so that her whole face glowed, and when she grinned her eyes disappeared into two little slits. You could still tell it was Kenny, but she looked too ugly to live. It was gruesome. I could hardly bear to look at her.

“I know,” she said. “I’ll tell you about the Ghost Train.”

I’ve heard this story before. Kenny’s sister told it to her. She’d heard it at school. There’s a little low bridge that goes over the railway line on Arthur Street. Well, years and years ago there was a big crash there and a train ploughed into the side of the bridge and every single person on the train was killed. Sometimes you’re supposed to be able to hear the train whistle in the distance. And some people say that if you stay there until it comes under the bridge, you’ll see it go by, full of ghosts.

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