The Secret by R.L. Stine

asked.
    â€œI do not know,” Jonathan replied. “When I looked outside, I saw nothing.”
    â€œIt must have been a dream,” Delilah told him.
    â€œThat is what I decided,” Jonathan said. “But this morning Rachel went to the well for water, and when she pulled up the bucket—” He paused, wondering if he should continue. Should he say such a shocking thing to a young lady he hardly knew?
    Delilah stopped walking and faced him. “What happened?” she asked. “What did you find in the bucket?”
    â€œIt was full of blood,” he told her.
    Delilah gasped.
    â€œMy father is convinced that it has something to do with the curse,” Jonathan said. “I cannot help but wonder if he is right.”
    Now Delilah turned her face away. “Oh, no,” she said, walking ahead of him. Were her hands shaking? Jonathan could not be sure, “He cannot be right about this, can he, Jonathan? There must be some reasonable explanation.”
    â€œThere must be,” Jonathan said. “But I cannot think of one. Do you suppose a wounded animal somehow got into the well? But that does not make sense. There was so much blood—and no sign of an animal. And the well water was perfectly clean.”
    Delilah stopped again and took Jonathan’s hand. “Please, Jonathan,” she pleaded. “Forget about this curse. Let it be your father’s obsession, not yours.”
    Jonathan put his hand over hers. Her skin was sosoft. Her words echoed in his mind. Forget about this curse, he thought. That is exactly what I would have said—until today.
    He and Delilah walked on in silence.
    She is a very sensible girl, Jonathan thought. I am glad we have met. It is so good to have someone to confide in.
    That night Jonathan went to bed early and immediately fell asleep.
    Deep in the night a noise woke him.
    Creak.
    Jonathan’s eyes flew open. He listened, holding his breath.
    It was the dead of night. The house lay bathed in darkness.
    Creak.
    Jonathan’s heart began to pound. There it was again.
    Creak. Creak.
    It came from the hall. His mouth suddenly dry, his temples throbbing, Jonathan slipped out of bed and crept to the door.
    He put his ear to the door and listened. I really did hear a noise this time, he thought. I am sure of it.
    Creeeeak.
    Slowly, silently, he opened the door. The hall was dark. He listened to footsteps quietly coming toward him.
    He peered around the door and into the hall.
    There it stood.
    His blood stopped flowing in his veins.
    At the end of the hall he saw a vision in white—floating toward him.

Chapter 11

    â€œW ho is it?” Jonathan cried. But his voice came out a choked whisper.
    The pale figure whispered, “Abigail! Abigail!”
    It floated closer. Jonathan could see a white nightgown and white nightcap, long gray hair flowing under it. He heard the floorboards creaking under her bare feet.
    It cannot be a ghost, he thought.
    The apparition called out softly, “Abigail! Abigail! Come back!”
    It is Mama, Jonathan realized, alarmed. What is she doing?
    His mother stepped quietly past him, not seeing him. Again she called, “Abigail!”
    She is walking in her sleep, Jonathan realized.
    She started down the stairs and Jonathan followed.
    She made her way to the back of the house, theghostly white gown trailing along the floor. “Abigail!” she called a little louder this time. “Wait for me!”
    She opened the back door. She was going outside.
    Jonathan stepped forward and grabbed her arm. “Mama!” he cried in a trembling voice. “What are you doing?”
    She turned around, startled. Her eyes were wide open and full of tears.
    She is not asleep, Jonathan thought. She is awake. She knows what she is doing.
    â€œIt is Abigail,” his mother whispered, tears rolling down her quivering cheeks. “She called to me. She is out there, waiting for me.”
    Jonathan