Chapter 2.

Disclaimer: I can barely tell a good ghost story. Do you think I could really write a Goosebumps book? Don't own it.

"Woah, Michelle!" Mr. Webster shouted, grabbing Michelle's wrist before she could bring the lamp down. "Its all right."

Michelle watched as the Cuckoo bird flapped its yellow wings and glared at her with its eerie blue eyes. It cawed and squawked before withdrawing itself back into the clock.

"It's a cuckoo clock," Mr. Webster explained. "Pretty neat, huh?"

"Neat?" Michelle scowled. "Did you not just notice how I almost smashed that thing to pieces? I don't typically do that to things I consider neat."

Mr. Webster shrugged. "Good point."

"You were scared!" Tommy taunted. "You were scared of a cuckoo clock, you weenie."

Michelle rolled her eyes and shoved Tommy.

"Michelle!" Mrs. Webster snapped. "Don't shove your brother. There's a lot of sharp things he could hurt himself on in here."

"But-"

"Michelle."

Michelle rolled her eyes and turned back to the clock.

"I'm not surprised the bird startled you," Mr. Webster said, seemingly not noticing the fight. "It's from the black forest of Germany. It's supposed to be enchanted."

"Enchanted?" Tommy said, his eyes sparkling.

"Enchanted?" Michelle repeated, although her tone was flat and one of disbelief.

"Legend has it that the man who built this clock had magical powers. He put a spell on the clock. They say if you know the secret, you can use the clock to go back in time."

Mom scoffed. "Did Anthony tell you that? What a great way to sell an old clock. Claim it has magic powers!"

Dad wouldn't let her spoil his fun. "You never know," he said. "It could be true. Why not?"

"I think it's true," Tommy said.

"And I'm fifteen, and I think it's a load of crap," Michelle muttered, still ticked off from having to cancel her date.

"Herman, I wish you wouldn't tell the kids these wild stories," Mom chided. "It's not good for them. And it only encourages Michelle. She's always making things up, telling fibs and impossible stories. I think she gets it from you."

Mr. Webster didn't even look at his wife, too busy examining the clock.. "She's a teenager. It's a phase. She'll grow out of it."

Michelle sputtered. "I don't make things up! I always tell the truth!"

Michelle loved her mother; she always would, but that didn't stop Michelle from wanting to smack her. She was just so oblivious and narrow minded. Tommy: angel. Michelle: devil. That's how Mrs. Webster saw her kids with almost no gray area. It was very irksome.

"Besides, I don't think it hurts the kids to use their imaginations once in a while," Dad said as though Michelle hadn't spoken.

"Imagination is one thing," Mom said. "Lies and fibs are something else."

Michelle fumed. Mom was so unfair to her. The worst part was the expression of victory on Tommy's face. Making her look bad was his mission in life. Michelle wanted to wipe that smirk off his face forever.

"Dinner's almost ready," Mom announced, leaving the den. The cat followed her.

"Michael, Tommy—go wash up."

"I'm not hungry," Michelle muttered before storming up to her room. She was afraid if she looked at her mother for another second, she'd explode. You would be angry, too, if your mother always took your demon of a brother's side over yours.

An hour later, Michelle walked into the den with her backpack over her shoulder.

"Michelle!" Mr. Webster called from the kitchen. "The den is off limits."

"But Dad, I have to do research on Greek philosophy for my history class," Michelle said, gesturing to her backpack.

"Can't you do that upstairs?"

"I need the Internet."

Mr. Webster sighed, reluctantly.

"Okay. Be careful around the clock."

"I will," Michelle called back as she sat at the computer.

The clock caught her eye, and she looked at it.

The knobs and buttons and the multiple colors were mesmerizing. It may be ugly, but the designs and decorations did seem enchanting in a way. Michelle wondered what the flaw her father had mentioned could possible be. The clock looked fine. Some kind of bump? A missing notch on one of the gears? Maybe a piece of chipped paint?

Michelle glanced back at the door to the den. Their cat Bubba wandered through it, purring. She petted him, and Bubba nudged her hand (the cat always loved Michelle the best).

Her mom and dad were still in the kitchen, cleaning up after dinner.

Michelle knew it was a bad idea, but she ignored that feeling and stood up anyway to look at the clock.

Careful not to touch any buttons, she stared at the dial that showed the year. She ran her fingers along a curve of silver at the edge of the clock. She glanced at the little door over the face of the clock. The annoying cuckoo bird sat behind that door, waiting to leap out at the right time.

Michelle didn't want to be surprised by the bird again (this time she might actually destroy it, and then, she'd be in big trouble). She checked the time. Five minutes to eight.

Under the face of the clock she saw another door. A big door. She touched its gold knob.

What's behind this door? She wondered, always the curious one (curiosity killed the cat, a voice in the back of her mind whispered). Maybe the gears of the clock, or a pendulum.

She glanced over her shoulder again. No one was looking. Against her better judgement, she went to check behind the highest door of the clock.

She tugged on the gold knob. The door stuck. She pulled harder.

Stupid decision.

The door flew open.

She let out a scream as an ugly green monster burst out of the clock. It grabbed her and knocked her to the floor.

Michelle wheeled her fist back and was about to smash it into the creature's nose when a voice shouted from behind her.

"Michelle!"

I made Michelle a fighter because Michael wasn't really a fighter in the books, so I thought what would the book be like if Michael (now Michelle) was a bolder person? Besides, why not?

Thanks for reading. Hit the review button.