Hello again Aral Stein Story Club members.

I'm Ivy, your host with the most, and keeper of those strange and spooky tales from the

hidden vault of R.L. Stein.

Today is another chilling tale.

This melodious tale story club members may have you jumping up and making some noise.

It's one I call after midnight blues.

The horn playing woke melody up sometime after midnight.

Seriously, who has band practice in the middle of the night?

It sounded like a trumpet,

and it was playing a rather rousing version of when the saints go marching in.

Melody stuffed her pillow over her head,

hoping that would muffle the invading sound.

It didn't work.

No way she could go back to sleep.

Rising, she got up and ventured out into the hall.

She could hear the trumpet horn blasting through the entire apartment. It sounded like it was coming from the upstairs apartment

directly above them. It was dark. That was weird. Her parents' bedroom light was off,

so they must still be sleeping. But how could anyone sleep through all this racket?

She wondered about the other neighbors. They lived in a high-rise apartment, up on the 12th floor,

in the middle of the city. The trumpet playing drifted into another song, this one a little slower,

a little sadder. She thought about waking up her parents, but that seemed stupid. Why wake them up to

ask them if they were also hearing the music when clearly they were sound asleep? Melody peered

...