It

Dong . . . dong . . .dong . . . Midnight. I shiver as the icy wind blows into my room.

The door falls shut. I’m scared.

My window creaks. I feel like something is watching me. Slowly, without making a noise, I slip underneath my blanket. I know a blanket cannot protect me from what’s outside. Nobody knows what It is, wants, or looks like. The people who saw It can’t tell us. The only thing left of them is a pile of bones.

It doesn’t even help to board everything up. A man did that. The next day a worried neighbor broke down the door. The only thing left of the poor man was . . .

Crrrreeeak! My door slowly opens. Uh-oh. I hear something, and even worse, it’s coming toward my bed. My legs feel numb. I can’t move. I lie as still as I can, trying to breathe quietly. My thoughts are those of a four-year-old: What I can’t see, can’t see me! I know that’s not true, but try to think clearly when there’s a monster coming to eat you.

It’s coming closer. Something touches my blanket and I scream, kick, and hit. Finally, I see its face. Eew! It looks like a big pile of warts.

Warts? That’s it! And suddenly, I can think clearly again. I jump up, smack it, run to my closet. It’s coming closer. I whirl around and spray Warty right in its face. Warty howls and tries to hit the can out of my hand, but I don’t let go. Four sprays later, Warty stops defending himself/ itself. With a last, long howl, he/It melts to the floor.

Wow! I’ve just killed a monster with anti-war spray! Amazing, what that stuff can do. Like the doctor said: “This medicine will remove any wart.”

He was right.