Hello there, Story Club members.

I'm Ivy, your ghostly host with the most, and keeper of the strangest, spookiest tales on earth.

Today is another Ivy's chilling tale.

This undead thriller might make you avoid the next stuffy your little brother wants to pick up.

It's one I call stuffy of death.

It all started the day Baby River found Zami.

The family had gone to play at Graveyard Hill Playground, which was a fun place,

except for the creepy old graveyard right next to it. Nobody really talked about it, but the trees

always seemed to whisper, and the swings moved even when there was no wind. River

tottled over to the base of a crooked tombstone and pulled something out of the dirt.

Mine stuffy, River said, holding up a scruffy, ripped-up old doll stuffed with tiny red eyes.

They were dark red, almost like the color of blood.

It smelled terrible, like something that died.

It looked like it had been buried for a hundred years.

But River loved it.

He named it Zami, and he carried it everywhere he went.

His mom, Claire, tried to sneak it into the laundry,

but every time she did, it mysteriously ended up back in River's arms, dirtier than before.

Then, things got really weird.

Willa and Evan were climbing on the backyard play structure one stormy evening when they saw

footprints in the mud.

Big, gross footprints right through the garden.

...