The Midnight Game

Description

From the next big name in YA thrillers that fans on Book Tok have dubbed, “The CEO of plot twists” comes a classic horror story for a new generation.

Six strangers. One night. But how many survivors?

When a group of six strangers who have only ever spoken on a creepy Deddit thread decide to meet IRL, they have one plan in mind: they are going to play The Midnight Game and summon the Midnight Man.

Rules of the game are simple: Do not turn on the lights. Do not go to sleep. Do not leave the building.

And once you start the game, you must finish it—there’s no other way out…Praise for The Midnight Game:

“The Midnight Game is smart, twisted and terrifying. A single-sitting read with a wonderful ending—I loved it.”—Vincent Ralph, New York Times bestselling author of Secrets Never DieCynthia Murphy has had a long-standing love affair with all things scary, reading Point Horrors at primary school before graduating to Stephen King in her misguided teens. Studying for a degree in Art History and Archaeology meant that she developed a thirst for anything old, beautiful and very often dead. She tries to combine this with contemporary settings in her writing to make unique and chilling modern stories. Cynthia is married to her best friend and they are ruled by a Romanian rescue dog called Loli.Saturday, July 2, 11:20 p.m.

Ellie

The participants approached cautiously one by one. Some arrived in cars, others on foot, but all of them were alone.

That was part of the game.

Ellie watched each of the newcomers hesitate when they arrived at the playground gate, and smiled wryly because she had done the same. She had been there since eleven that evening, sitting cross-legged in a dark little alcove next to a small wooden shed. She hated being late and when she realized she was the first one there, she had thought it would be worth sizing everyone up as they arrived, see if she could try to match some faces with usernames before the game began.

A short figure pushed the gate tentatively. It swung open with a soft squeak, and a girl wearing glasses smiled and took a step inside. She paused, pulled a notebook from her small messenger bag, and scribbled something in it. Then she took something else out–an old-school windup camera, Ellie realized–and took a few snaps of the school and its compact grounds. The school building was an old one, though somehow still in use, and its presence loomed over the narrow street it was set back from. Large dark windows stared out soullessly. It was secluded here too, Ellie mused as she watched the petite girl walk around to the squat temporary classroom that sat outside the main building–“the hut,” Donttalktome12 had called it. Ellie weighed up the area once more. There were houses in running distance if she needed them, but no one close enough to hear them goofing around in there, which was good. She really didn’t need a criminal record over this stupid game.

The girl and her bag disappeared into the hut as Ellie waited for the next player. She avoided looking at the vacant windows of the main building. Why were schools so much creepier when they were empty? Was this one particularly sinister because it was so old? It must be. She scanned the walls for a plaque that might give her a date but couldn’t see anything in the dark. She should have brought a flashlight, but . . . you know.

Rules.

Ellie sat up straight as the next two people arrived, almost meeting at the gate simultaneously. She squinted to see a little better. A tall, blond-haired boy dressed in a preppy shirt and sweater combo stepped back, gesturing to the gate in what he clearly thought was a gentlemanly way. The girl to his right dragged her upper lip into a sneer, her lips dark and glossy, and imitated the gesture in such a mocking way that Ellie had to hold in a laugh. A look of bewilderment creased his face as he crossed the threshold and moved closer to Ellie’s hiding place. He was wearing stiff jeans and brown shoes, and something about him screamed money. Ellie decided she would put her life on him being a private schoolboy. He also disappeared into the hut while the new girl lingered outside, finishing a cigarette. The end of it drooped from her lips, glued in place with gloss as she eyed the school buildings. She dropped the butt and stretched, lithe, like a cat, before smashing the burning embers into the playground and marching over to the hut, her Doc Martens echoing on the asphalt.

Ellie checked her watch and hesitated–she wanted to be the last one to go in, but it was almost half past, and that was when they were supposed to be inside. She ticked people off on one hand as she kept her eyes on the gate. One, camera girl; two, preppy guy; three, goth girl. That meant there were two players left. She flicked at a hangnail as she waited, and realization dawned on her–someone had to have been there before her to open the gates and the hut. Dammit. So there was only one player left, unless they had chickened out.

No sooner had she thought it than a figure in red appeared at the gate, or rather bounced through it. This kid had way too much energy for Ellie’s liking already. He tore through the playground and toward the hut, not pausing to look around first. Impulsive, Ellie thought. That might not end well.

Once she was sure they were all inside, Ellie stood up. Her legs were stiff from sitting on the cold, hard ground, and she brushed little pieces of gravel from the backs of her legs and denim shorts. She collected her tote bag, took stock of its contents one last time, and swung it on to her shoulder, approaching the hut where they were supposed to meet. Just as she reached the bottom of the ramp that led inside, a silver glimmer caught her eye. On the playground wall, opposite the entrance, was a mirror. She walked over to it, her eyes following the lines of her reflection as it warped, swelling in odd places. She shook her head and laughed, feeling like the kids who must play here. She flipped her immaculately blow-dried hair behind one shoulder and headed up the ramp, turning for a final glance once she reached the door.

Her reflection was back to normal.

Satisfied, Ellie threw her shoulders back, pushed open the door with her mint-green fingernails, and walked into the building.

She had a game to play.

d/makemebelieve

07/01/2022 00:01

FrenchBanana: Er, no, as it happens. I was going to say, “The question is–is any of it real, or is it just creepypasta?” I am NOT down to play this stuff.

YeahBoi_121: I’m in! This chat is set to local peeps only, right?

HotDog45: Hell yeah! When and where?

FrenchBanana: Number 1–no. I am not stupid enough to meet strangers off the internet. Number 2–yes, I set the chat to local users, but only because I wanted local info on this so-called legend. Number 3–repeat number 1. NO.

User3678: But you started this thread, right? And we’re on the d/makemebelieve subdeddit. You MUST be a bit curious?

FrenchBanana: What? You said it was trash a minute ago!

User3678: Nah, ignore me. I was just joking around. I’ve never played.

Donttalktome12: I know somewhere we can do it. Somewhere we won’t be disturbed.

FrenchBanana: God, I wish my laptop had a red flag emoji for THAT comment @Donttalktome12 . . .

CreepyTeepee: Screw it. I’m in too. Can’t be real, right?

HotDog45: Sweeeeeet!

YeahBoi_121: So, where we going @Donttalktome12?

Donttalktome12: I’ll tell you when @FrenchBanana commits. Then they can lock the chat so it’s just us.

00:07

HotDog45: They’ve chickened out, I bet . . .

00:09

YeahBoi_121: Hellllloooooooo?

FrenchBanana: You all have to let me interview you after.

HotDog45: No worries.

YeahBoi_121: Same here.

Donttalktome12: Fine by me.

User3678: Sure, if we’re stiiiiiiiiiill aliiiiiiiiiive . . .

FrenchBanana: What about you @CreepyTeepee?

CreepyTeepee: Yeah, whatever.

HotDog45: So? You in?

FrenchBanana: Fine.

User3678: Yay!

FrenchBanana: I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?

Saturday, July 2, 11:29 p.m.

Mei

The room was tiny.

Cramped and dusty, like it hadn’t been used for years. Maybe it hadn’t, Mei thought. Maybe that was the point. Donttalktome12 had said the building was in use, but this room clearly hadn’t heard the laughter of children for a while. She counted the other figures in the room–five people now, including her. No one had spoken yet, just awkward nods and faces that screamed “What am I doing here?”

“Well, this place is a shithole.”

Mei set her bag down near the door and focused on the voice, her nose wrinkling involuntarily. A tall intimidating girl sat cross-legged on a table by the whiteboard to the left of the room, emanating a “don’t mess with me” aura and a cloud of cigarette smoke. Mei tried to catch the cough that was pushing its way up from her chest and failed miserably, letting out a pathetic little hacking sound. The girl flicked her large eyes over Mei once, rolled them to the sky, and resumed flicking the lid on and off a dried-out marker pen. Mei crouched down into the corner, one hand rummaging in her bag for an inhaler. She grasped the cool plastic gratefully and took two puffs as inconspicuously as she could manage.

The room behind her stayed silent.

“Er, it’s just all this dust.” Mei smiled apologetically as she turned back to face the group.

“Yeah, it’s pretty grim in here, right? Is this really a school?”

Mei studied the speaker–tall white guy with floppy blond hair, at least six foot two to Mei’s five foot nothing. He was wearing a polo shirt that gave off a vague impression of entitlement. Rich kid, definitely.

“This bit isn’t. Well, it was, kind of, but this was a temporary classroom. The main school flooded one year and some of the kids had to have lessons in here. They’re all back in the main building now, though.” A skinny figure piped up from the opposite side of the room. He was leaning back against a table that had another one upturned on top of it, its legs pointing up to the ceiling. His hood was up, leaving his face mostly covered in shadow. Mei studied him carefully. Was that Donttalktome12? He jerked a thumb to point behind him and she noticed there was a door hidden in the shadows. Yes, he knew his way around. It was definitely him.

“It’s still connected through a temporary corridor. I thought this would be a good place to start, though, since the door is wooden. No alarms, all that jazz.”

The hairs on Mei’s arm stood on end as a cold breeze tickled her skin.

A wooden door.

They were really doing this.

“Hi, everyone!” a perky voice cut through the tension just as Mei’s watch beeped its reminder. Eleven thirty. “Hope I’m not late!”

“Not at all.” Mei rolled her own eyes as another boy jumped up from behind what she assumed was the teacher’s desk, to greet the final member of the group. The girl in the doorway smiled shyly and ducked her head behind a curtain of blond hair that Taylor Swift would be proud of as the boy approached her. “You’re just in time. I’m Reece–”

“I thought we weren’t using real names,” Mei said, regretting it instantly. Scary girl narrowed her eyes.

“How do you know that’s his real name?” she purred. “He could have made it up.”

“I don’t . . . I just . . .”

“I don’t . . . I just . . . ,” the girl mimicked in a high-pitched whine. “Oh, calm down. You’re way too tense.” She uncrossed her legs and scooted to the edge of the desk, letting her boot-clad feet brush against the worn green carpet.

“Uh-oh, she’s right, though. I did use my real name.” Reece shrugged, smiling at the newcomer. “Guess I’m not too good at following rules.”

Mei’s mouth dried up. That was not a good start.

“I’m Ellie.” The blond girl smiled. “I guess we would find out anyway, right? I mean, we have to write our names down. For the ritual.”

“That’s true,” scary girl agreed. “I’m Toni.”

“Hugo,” rich boy offered, one meaty hand in the air. “Hugo Winstan–”

“First names only, genius,” Toni snarled. She fixed her eyes on Mei. “You?”

“I’m Mei,” she managed to say, words tumbling from her mouth in a hurry. “Like the month, just spelled differently. It’s Chinese, I’m half Chinese . . .” She bit her lip, hoping it would stop her nervous rambling. Her voice was smaller than she’d liked. She hadn’t thought she’d be so scared.

“And I’m Callum,” the skinny boy in the hoodie spoke up. He approached the rest of the group and placed a bundle in the center of an empty table. Dull golden thumbtacks, a fistful of torn paper, and six pencils, all in varying degrees of falling apart, scattered across the hard surface. “Are you ready to play?”

d/makemebelieve

07/01/2022 06:30

YeahBoi_121: How we all feeling this bright and sunny morning?

HotDog45: WTF? What time is it?

YeahBoi_121: 6:30, just having breakfast.

YeahBoi_121: Take it you’re not an early riser.

HotDog45: Fell asleep with my headphones in. Didn’t realize I had such a loud alert for this thread. Fuck me up.

06:32

FrenchBanana: Lol. Someone butt-dialed me once when I was asleep with pods in. Scared the life out of me.

YeahBoi_121: Morning @FrenchBanana. You still on for our adventure?

FrenchBanana: Suppose so.

User3678: They can’t WAIT 😉

FrenchBanana: I’m about to do a bit of research this morning actually. Gotta get the bus to school and it takes FOR. EVER.

User3678: School? How old are you?

CreepyTeepee: Wait–this is a good point.

YeahBoi_121: Morning @User3678 and @CreepyTeepee. Almost the whole gang.

06:34

Donttalktome12: I’m here. Not fully awake, but here.

YeahBoi_121: Morning @Donttalktome12

FrenchBanana: Stop being so cheerful @YeahBoi_121, it’s weird.

YeahBoi_121: Sorry. Just being polite.

FrenchBanana: @User3678??? @CreepyTeepee??? What do you mean? What’s a good point?

06:35

FrenchBanana: Hellllooooo. I need to go soon!

06:36

User3678: Isn’t it obvious? Frenchy told us they went to school. Which means they’re seventeen–or younger.

CreepyTeepee: Exactly. None of us actually know each other, do we? What if one of us is lying?

HotDog45: About what?

CreepyTeepee: Oh, I dunno. Age. Motivation. Bad intentions. I mean, we’re agreeing to meet up at midnight in God-knows-where. It’s a bit sus, isn’t it?

YeahBoi_121: Nah, I don’t believe that. Surely we’re all good eggs.

User3678: Good eggs? How old are you @YeahBoi_121?

FrenchBanana: Lol. I guess you’re right, though.

FrenchBanana: None of you are murderers or human traffickers, right?

06:40

FrenchBanana: RIGHT?!

06:42

Donttalktome12: No, we’re just a gang of good eggs who are talking about summoning a demon . . .

06:44

HotDog45: A WHAT?

HotDog45: I’m sorry, I must still be dreaming. Who said anything about a DEMON???

FrenchBanana: Someone hasn’t done their research . . .

HotDog45: You literally just said you didn’t yet either!

FrenchBanana: Of course I have. A bit, anyway.

CreepyTeepee: You didn’t even search it on here after our chat last night @HotDog45?

HotDog45: No . . . did everyone else?

User3678: Yep.

YeahBoi_121: Me too.

Donttalktome12: Same. Wanted to know what we were getting ourselves into.

HotDog45: Damn. I was too tired.

06:50

FrenchBanana: So we’re all off to . . . school, or wherever today, right?

06:51

FrenchBanana: For the record, I turned sixteen last month.

FrenchBanana: Anyone else up for sharing their personal details?

06:55

FrenchBanana: OKKKKKKK . . . right. Gotta run.

CreepyTeepee: I’m seventeen 🙂

YeahBoi_121: Eighteen here.

HotDog45: Yeah, I’m eighteen too.

User3678: Seventeen. What about you @Donttalktome12?

Donttalktome12: I’m the baby along with @FrenchBanana.

FrenchBanana: Guess we have to meet up to see who’s lying . . .

HotDog45: We could send pics.

User3678: Yeah, ’cause those can’t be faked.US

Additional information

Weight	9.56 oz
Dimensions	0.6250 × 5.5000 × 8.2500 in
Imprint	Delacorte Press
Format	General Trade
ISBN-13	09780593705568
ISBN-10	0593705564
Author	Cynthia Murphy
Audience	Teenage
BISAC	YAF058150, YAF026000
Subjects	books for 13 year old girls, halloween books for teens, teen horror books, horror books for teens, horror books for adults, tween books for girls ages 11-14, books for 12 year old boys, horror novels, realistic fiction books for kids 12-15, books for 14 year old boys, books for 13 year old boys, books for 14 year old girls, teen fiction books, horror, books for 12 year old girls, good books for teens, young adult novels, fiction books, horror books, young adult books, young adult fiction, scary books, YAF026000, YAF058150, creepy