Vampire Juice: A Book About Horror For Teens

Copyright© 2023 by Reuben Shupp

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by an electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publishers and the author, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review.

Vampire Juice: A Book About Horror For Teens

By Reuben Shupp

Table of Contents

Mr. Townsend is Missing......................................................7

It’s Not A Date................................................................14

The Haunted House............................................................20

The Halloween Shop...........................................................23

The Twins...................................................................29

The Crypt...................................................................35

Catch Me If You Can..........................................................40

The Sleepover................................................................44

Do You Want Some Juice?......................................................50

Dad........................................................................56

Sean’s Gone..................................................................60

Where Is Sean?...............................................................66

Help! Can Anyone Hear Me?....................................................73

They’re Alive.................................................................76

The Kidnapping..............................................................80

The Clerk...................................................................85

Back To School...............................................................91

I’m Home...................................................................96

The Meeting................................................................102

Andrea (Creepy and Scary Tales: A Collection of Short Stories)....................112

Mr. Townsend is Missing

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My class stands outside the classroom. What are you all doing? I ask, glancing down the hall. Where is Mr. Townsend?

Duh, he’s not here, Scott says. I glare at him through the slits of my eyelids. He thinks he is so cool.

I step on my tiptoes and look through the window. The room is black except for an orange glow. We might get a substitute.

I hope we get Mr. Shupp, Scott adds. He’s funny. Remember the time he showed us a video of different animal fart noises? Scott makes pimp pump noises with his armpit. Everyone laughs.

Boots stomping echoes along the hallway. We look over and here comes Amanda. Her long hair swings back and forth to the rhythm of her strides. She stares at us with a puzzled look on her face. I recognize that expression. It is the same one I had a few minutes ago.

She walks past us and clicks the door open.

Wh-Wh-what are you doing? I demand

What does it look like?

Why do you think we are standing in the hall? I shake my head in disbelief. We are not allowed into the classroom without a teacher.

She ignores me. I cringe while she walks underneath the stuffed vampire bat.

Amanda turns back and motions for me to come. I shake my head from side to side. She scowls at me and motions me to come again. Why do I always give in to her demands?

I linger behind her. Black butcher paper covers the windows and lights. Pumpkin lanterns hang from the ceiling. An orange glow shimmers throughout the room.

Amanda turns around and puts her index finger to her lips. Shhh.

I am.

I’m not talking to you. The entire class is bunched together in small pods. We creep behind Amanda. She walks around the tables and stops at the back of the room.

Resting below a lantern is a casket. Why is a coffin in our classroom? A silver nameplate echoes in the light.

I bend over to peer at the name. My glasses fall off and slide across the floor.

Sean, you’re useless and blind as a bat.

I click my tongue. I bend over and search for my glasses.

What are you doing?

I am using echolocation to find my glasses. Amanda and I chuckle. She gives me a friendly punch on the shoulder. We look at the nameplate.

Peter Townsend, October 2021, Amanda reads in a loud whisper.

This has to be a prank, I mumble. Right?

Amanda shrugs her shoulders. She turns and faces the coffin again. The classroom is completely silent. I do not dare make a sound. I hold my breath. What is she going to do? I hope she does not do anything nuts.

I tap Amanda on the shoulder. What? she snaps.

We should leave. This is not a good idea.

She shakes her head. I need to know. She raps on the coffin’s lid.

We wait. Amanda and I listen. Nothing.

Amanda pounds on the casket. Is anyone home?

Who is she expecting? Mr. Townsend? She gestures for me to help her.

I stand completely still and try to ignore her. She scowls at me. I look at my sneakers for a moment and then I help her lift the lid.

We gasp. Or is it the whole class? I am not sure. Resting in the coffin is a bald man wearing a turtleneck sweater.

Mr. Townsend is as white as a dry-erase board. He must be clowning around. We bend over to get a closer look. It must be a doll or a mannequin.

Is it really him? I ask.

There is only one way to find out. Amanda boops him on the nose.

My teacher’s eyes pop open.

I jump back. Mr. Townsend grunts while he sits up. Good morning, children, he says in a Transylvanian accent. Then he hisses like a cat.

I squeal like a girl and stumble backward and fall on my butt. How could I fall for this classic horror movie ploy? Amanda is sitting next to me. She grins at me and then hands me my glasses.

Mr. Townsend is always in the holiday spirit. Last Christmas, he dressed up as Santa Clause. For Easter, he wore a Peter Cottontail costume. Count Dracula? And why not? Halloween is almost here.

Mr. Townsend grabs the sides of the coffin and pulls himself about halfway up before falling back down. Could someone be kind enough to give me a hand?

Scott and his groupies giggle while they clap their hands. That was not even funny. He must really think he is the class clown.

Several students hurry over and help Mr. Townsend out of the coffin. He makes old man sounds at the same time that he steps out of the casket.

Mr. Townsend walks to the front of the classroom and pulls out a strange-looking vegetable.

What is it? asks Jennifer. It looks weird. Is it a giant radish?

He chuckles to himself and then looks at Jennifer. It’s a t–

Turnip, Amanda blurts out.

Mr. Townsend has a curious expression on his face. He hesitates for a split second before smiling. How do you know?

My dad cooks with them. He swears it’s why everyone brags about his stews.

Brags about how gross they are.

That’s a good one, Scott, several kids snort into their muffled hands. Amanda spins around and stares at Scott. 

The giggling stops. It is almost as if she is challenging him to say something else. He does not want to cross Amanda. I am glad she is my friend and not my enemy.

That’s enough, Scott, Mr. Townsend scolds.

That’s enough, Scott, Amanda mumbles from the side of her mouth. I snicker.

Mr. Townsend glares at Amanda and Scott for a moment. Ooh, I know that look. It is the same gaze my father gives me when I do not take out the garbage. He is telling them off with his eyes.

Everyone stops and looks at Mr. Townsend. In the spirit of the season, how are turnips important to the tradition of Halloween? I am sure I have a blank look on my face. Yup, even Amanda has the same expression.

Come on now. Anybody? Scott's hand floats toward the ceiling. Finally. Mr. Townsend motions for him to speak.

Witches used turnips in their brew? The class giggles.

Mr. Townsend laughs too. An amazing guess! But these were the first Halloween jack-o’-lanterns, although we will be carving more traditional ones today. Amanda, and Jennifer, can you pass out the knives?

These kid-safe carving knives are worthless on the pumpkins. They will have a difficult time cutting butter.

Everyone seems to have the same problem. The lid pops off easily. Hairs hang from the top. Using the metal spoon, I scrape away the strands.

Amanda is already carving her pumpkin. How is that even possible? Why does she have to be the best at everything?

I begin the tedious task of cleaning my pumpkin. The hairs separate after I scrape some away. A grunt escapes my lips. My hand lets go of the spoon.

It clangs onto the table. I reach into the pumpkin and yank at its guts. The slimy strands slither through my fingers like a group of nightcrawlers. It is kind of cool and gross at the same time. I draw a scary face with the Sharpie and then carve it.

Something is off. I can not figure it out. I step back and stare at it for