A Dummy's Lady - A Goosebumps Fanfiction {Completed}

The Next Writer

"Oh, no!" Cassandra protested. She grabbed me and pulled me away from Stine. "Shelly is not helping you. She is coming home with me."

"But Cassandra, I can help," I tried convincing her. "Stine needs a writer to write the rest of the story for him. I can do it. I am a very good writer."

"Not happening. Especially after what he put me through. He deserves what is coming to him!"

Stine adjusted his glasses and stared at me. "Are you sure that you can do it, Shelly?" he asked.

"Of course. I have read and written all my life. I have even read all of the Goosebumps books." I yanked my caretaker's hands off me. "It may take me a while to read or write, but I always get done sooner or later."

"Hmm." He held the manuscript close to him. "You do not have a while. But it is only the ending that you need to write."

"Give me fifteen, no ten, minutes to write. I promise that I will be finished in no time."

He glanced at the manuscript, and then back at me. "I do not know..."

"Please? It is not like that you have another option."

"Oh, he does have another option!" Cassandra piped in. "Giving up and surrendering himself to his own creations." She grabbed my arm. "Time to get out of this zoo."

I teared up and lowered my head. Did Cassandra and Stine not have faith in me? I have read every Goosebumps book known to man, and my "Non-Fiends know that I am a creative writer who has the ability to create the best twists.

So why were they hesitant in letting me help? Was it because they did not want me to get hurt?

The answer to that would be a resounding yes.

I jerked away from my caretaker and turned back to Stine. "Have faith in me. Please," I pleaded. "I know that I can do it. I just know it!"

Stine sighed. "Shelly..." he started.

"Sir, if she wants to help, then let her help," Zach interrupted. He held up his hands. I noticed white bandages around them. Blood was seeping through the bandages. "Slappy broke my fingers and hands, just like he did to you."

The writer glanced at the manuscript, and then back at me. He walked to me and handed me the manuscript. "Welcome aboard to the writing station."

I gasped. I took the manuscript and examined it. The cover felt smooth beneath my fingertips. The pages were a mix of yellow and white and felt smooth as I brushed my fingers against them. The cover was dark red with bright yellow corners. There was a heading in the middle of the cover. It read: "Slappy's Revenge."

"I will take you to the typewriter," Stine insisted. "It is in the theatre."

"Nope!" Cassandra exclaimed. She pushed him and grabbed my wrist. "She is not helping you! This is your mess! You can fix it!"

I frowned at her. "Cassandra! Enough!"

My caretaker turned to me. "What?"

"I need to help him. Let me help!"

"Shelly, no." She started pulling me away, but I broke free from her grasp.

"I cannot go home yet. I need to stay and help."

"Shelly—"

"What is going to happen if I do not help him with his problem? Slappy and his monsters will be after me. And they will destroy the world, and Slappy will enslave all humans!"

"That is not on me. That is on Stine. And if Slappy actually does succeed in ruling the world, us "Non-Fiends" will fight."

"But for how long will the fight take? A week? Two weeks? A year?"

"A day."

"We cannot take the risk! Slappy almost hurt me today. The only way that we can make sure that will not happen ever again is to put him back in his place."

"You do not—"

"I do not what? Understand? Get what you are saying?" I began taking steps back. "I need to do what I know is right. I need to help in this situation."

Before Cassandra had a chance to respond, I dashed down the hall. I clutched the manuscript tightly. I ran as fast as I could, kicking up tiny amounts of dirt in the process. I soon stopped and surveyed my surroundings.

Where was the theatre?

I spotted a poster that was behind me and hanging on the wall. I squinted at the poster. The poster had information of where rooms were in the school buildings. "Theatre" was written in bold and black, and underneath the writing was a green arrow pointing to the right.

I turned my head to the right and saw two red, double doors. Both of the doors had round windows. I peeked through one of the windows. Light shined down on a stage. There was a fireplace, a table, and a chair on the stage. And on the table was...

...the typewriter!

Yes! Just like in the movie!

I opened one of the double doors. The door creaked as I did so. I stepped inside and closed the door quietly and gently. There were many seats in the room. A group of them was on the left, and a group of them was on the right. Between the groups of chairs, a long, narrow carpet stretched from where I was to the stage. It was also red, like the Red Carpet.

I let out a breath of fresh air and made my way to the stage. Other than the stage, the room was in darkness. It was as if the place was abandoned, even though that it was not.

I finally got to the stage and climbed over it. My feet hit the stage floor - and I let out a scream.

Slappy was sitting by the typewriter.

"Hi," he spoke. "Did you miss me?"