by Diane M. Davis
Angela shivered and burrowed into the bedclothes. She closed her
eyes, counted to ten and opened them, hoping she imagined it.
Her heart galloped; she thought she would die. The shadow was still
there on the landing. If only she’d closed the door. It crept closer,
growing from a shapeless hulk to a bearlike form.
She stuffed the corner of the comforter in her mouth to stifle a
scream. The panting grew louder. She curled into a ball, shaking.
A floorboard creaked and the shadow dropped low.
Moments crawled by. The creature inched forward.
The hall light came on.
“Beau! What are you doing up here?”
Their new dog whined as Angela’s mom grabbed his collar.
“Howard! Come take Beau. I caught him sneaking into Angela’s room.”
Angela almost cried with relief. “Mom? Can Beau sleep with me tonight?”
Her mother sighed. “There’s no reason to be afraid of the dark,
honey. Nothing is there that isn’t there in the daylight.”
Another sigh. “Okay.”
Beau jumped on the bed. Angela settled down, finally safe.
“Good night,” her mom whispered and shut the door.
Beau’s eyes glowed in the darkness as he waited for the little girl to