Hello again Aral Stein Story Club members.

I'm Ivy, your ghostly host with the absolute most,

and keeper of those strange and spooky tales from the hidden vault of R.L. Stein.

Today is yet again another chilling tale.

This stone cold tale story club members will take you to new heights. It's one I call Wings of Stone.

Derek and Robbie jogged over to the old building.

The fat moon in the October night sky made their scampering shadows appear long and jagged on the empty city street,

just like a couple of giant blackbirds. Let's tag it, Robbie pointed, there. The old

odd fellows building that was scheduled for demolition loomed in front of them. Community members had

tried to fight the city and declared the spooky old brick building a historic landmark, but they were too late.

It was one of the oldest structures in town, built more than 150 years ago.

Along the top edge, there were three concrete gargoyles that peered down.

They always creeped Derek out when he was a kid.

Looking up at them now, the winged,

stone guardians of the building sent to prickle down the back of Derek's neck, something he hadn't

felt since he was five years old. Robbie handed him a can of yellow spray paint from his backpack.

Go up there and paint, he chuckled. "'It'll be the ultimate tag.'

"'I don't want to.

"'It's a dare, dude.

"'You have to accept a dare tag.

"'We're a team, remember?'

"'Or what?'

...