 
### Syeribus

### Creatures of the Night

### A Novel by

### L. M. Boelz

Syeribus: Creatures of the Night

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form.

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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Table of Contents

Chapter 1: Campfire Tales

Chapter 2: The Old Man

Chapter 3: The Journey

Chapter 4: Starting Over

Chapter 5: The Red-Headed Boy

Chapter 6: The Newest Member

Chapter 7: The Kingdom of Mot

The Journey

### Chapter 1: Campfire Tales

Stomping her feet on the doormat and brushing the dirt off of her pants, Carol twisted around to survey herself.

"There, I think that's pretty good," she commented to herself, while feeling satisfied that she had done all that she could not to track dirt into the house.

Carol was through the front door and approaching the living room, as her father was trying to convince her mother of something.

"It would be fun. There are going to be other families and lots of other children there too," he offered, using his best pleading voice.

Becoming very excited with the possibility of going on a trip somewhere, anywhere, Carol bounded into the living room and came to a halt, just short of where her father was sitting.

"Where are we going? I want to go!" Carol burst out.

"You don't even know where it is that you want to go, Little One," Mom replied coyly.

"It doesn't matter, Mom. I heard the words fun and lots of children to play with. That's all I need to know!" Carol almost shouted.

"Since it's a company camping trip, it's all paid for, and you'll know most of the people there." he continued to explain.

Carol's imagination wasted no time in coming up with guesses on where they might be going. Carol waited while her mother playfully tortured them by making them wait for her answer.

"Well... alright. I don't see much harm in going," she finally relented.

Not wanting to waste any time, Carol raced off to her room to start packing.

***

The next weekend, with the car all packed, it was time to head out for their first camping trip.

"This is going to be a grand adventure!" Carol declared, as she climbed into the back seat.

Pulling into the campsite parking lot, Carol bolted out of the car and began marveling at all the different sights and sounds to explore, not to mention the sweet smell of pine trees coming from everywhere. The trees stood so tall against the sky and the breeze was cooler than back home, but it felt so good. Stopping for a moment to close her eyes against the sun, Carol took in a deep breath and wondered, _Why couldn't we live here?_

With all of their things unloaded from the car, everyone carried what they could to the campsite.

"I will have this up in a jiffy. I have pitched my fair share of tents in my day. I will see you up at the end of this trail, at campsite number three," her dad stated matter-of-factly.

Stopping to close the trunk, Carol followed her mother up the trail. At first, Carol walked closely behind her while trying to look into the trees, to see if she might be able to spot any deer or even a bear!

Knowing they would be cooking hotdogs later, Carol scanned the trail for the perfect stick. Spotting one, she stopped for a second to stoop down and pick up a long stick. Seeing that she was falling behind, Carol hurried to catch back up.

"What do you have there?" her mother queried.

"This is my hot dog stick, Mom. Isn't it a beauty?" Carol asked, while holding the stick up.

"Don't the tents look grand?" Carol asked, as they came into view. "Which one is ours?"

"Your dad said ours was number three."

As they walked past a few campsites, they both read the numbers aloud, "seven, six, five."

"Here, Mom, our tent is over here. And what a great job Dad did of putting the tent up, too," Carol called out in a triumphant voice, at having been the first one to spot the site.

After everything had been put away, everyone attending the company camping trip gathered down at the fire-pit shortly before sunset. Carol sat examining the stick that she had found for roasting hotdogs, when her attention was drawn away by the sound of people laughing and having fun.

"You know, Little Lady, I think I can hear people out by the water. I wonder if someone should go check and see if that's where your father has gone off to," Carol's mother wondered aloud.

"I'll do it!" Carol almost yelled.

Laughing softly at how animated her daughter could be at times, Carol's mother sent her to look for her father. "I think it would be okay, for you to go ahead and play with the other children at the water's edge, as long as you are down there anyway," her mother added.

After a full afternoon of unpacking and playing, it was time to come back to the campsite to get ready for dinner, which was to be followed by campfire stories.

Arriving back at the campsites, the adults, and children, who had gone into the lake earlier, quickly changed into some drier and warmer clothes, before returning to the shoreline to watch the sunset with their co-workers and their families attending the company camping trip, before dinner.

Carol watched in silence, as the sun slowly melted into the water. _Oh, the colors were magnificent!_ The sky was filled with oranges and reds, causing the clouds that hung in the sky to look like softly spun cotton candy with their pink and blue tones. The setting sun cast ribbons of what looked like molten gold and silver gliding on the gently rippling water.

With only a little light remaining, everyone headed over to sit near the fire. Settling in, Carol sat staring into the flames, as they wickedly flickered and danced in the light breeze, as if they were alive.

Glancing to the man sitting next to her, Carol couldn't help wondering, _With a nose as big as that, can he smell things better than other people can?_

Carol's attention was taken away from staring at his nose, when he leaned over towards her and softly asked, "Did you know that some people say that if you stare into the flames of a fire long enough, you can hypnotize yourself?"

Carol's stare went from his nose to his eyes. They were the strangest looking eyes she had ever seen. They were large and unusually close together. The round wire rimmed glasses he wore made them look even larger than they actually were.

"No, I did not know that," Carol replied, while trying hard not to continue staring at him.

"Okay, may I have your attention," a short, round bald man declared, as he stood up in front of the fire. "I want to thank all of you. Without the dedication of our sales team, Little Lake Bass and Hunting Shop would not be what it is today."

Everyone sitting around the campfire clapped and cheered, as their employer took a bow.

"Okay, as those of you who have been on camping trips with us before already know..." he then paused briefly, "We have a tradition of seeing who can tell the scariest campfire story, and as usual, there will be a cash bonus going to the winner."

Carol found herself startled, when a tall slender man who had been sitting near a pile of firewood jumped up without warning.

"Prepare to be terrified, like you have never been terrified before in your lives!" he boasted.

Taking up a flashlight and drawing it up close under his chin, he used the light to cast an eerie glow across his face.

Carol couldn't help thinking how he looked like a Daddy Long Legs Spider, as he crouched and crept around in the firelight. The flashlight made his eyes look sunken into his face, almost as if they weren't even there. Except for when the light would catch them just right, then, and only then, could you see tiny sparks where the eyes should have been.

His tale was about others that had gone camping, and were never to be heard from again. He went on to explain how one at a time, the campers all disappeared. When one of them would leave to collect firewood or go for a walk down by the lake, it would be the last time anyone would see them. As he continued, the gruffness in his voice helped to add a sinister feel to the story, which hung in the air like a thick grey mist.

Carol watched him, as he walked, methodically from one side of the fire-pit to the other. His slow deliberate movements began to have an almost hypnotic effect on the rest of the group as they watched his every move, and listened to his every word. He talked about how the other campers, tried to stay together in groups, but even this did not help. Each morning, when they would wake-up, there would be someone else missing. Finally, there was no one left. No trace was found of the missing people. No tracks. No clues. Nothing at all.

As the storyteller made his way to the other side of the fire-pit, Carol whispered to her mother, "If no one was left, then how does he know what happened?"

Looking down at her daughter with the oddest expression, "Oh, you are a silly little one. It's only a story. It didn't really happen," her mother replied.

"Oh, I knew that. I was testing you to see if you believed it or not."

Reaching over and patting the top of her daughter's head, she then turned her attention back to listening to the rest of the story.

After the man finished his story, five others stood to take their turn at telling the scariest or best story, in hopes of winning the cash prize.

As each storyteller made his or her way around to the far side of the fire-pit and was out of earshot, Carol would stare into the flames or look at the faces of the people sitting around the fire. They too were lit up with the same unnatural glow as the flashlight cast on the faces of the storytellers. None, however, looked quite as scary to her as the tall thin spider man who had jumped up to present the first story of the night.

As Carol sat between her parents, clutching their arms, she could not help wondering if the stories were scaring anyone else or if she was the only one who was frightened.

"Alright!" yelled their boss, as he stood up in almost a rolling motion.

A chorus of "AH, E-E-E, OH," shattered the calm of the night air. Most of the people had been startled by the sudden outburst, as their attention was drawn back to the center of the fire-pit, instead of looking for anything that might be lurking in the trees or bushes behind them, just out of the reach of the fire light.

Seeing that he had succeeded in getting everyone's attention, he asked with a hardy laugh, "I didn't scare you all, did I?" Even though the entire group, all at once reassured him that he had not, he knew that he had.

"Alright, it is..." he paused for a moment to look at his watch, as if to make sure of the time, "nearly midnight; the witching hour. Therefore, for safety's sake, we'll call it a night and continue tomorrow night. This way, you can all get safely tucked away in your tents before witches, demons, and the really scary things come out, looking for unsuspecting campers to carry off!"

While some of the campers gathered their things, to make their way back to their campsites for the night, others continued to talk amongst themselves about the different stories told, comparing which story they thought had been the best so far. Many of them really liked the tension that was added with the way their boss had dispatched his employees and their families to their campsites.

Peering into the darkness all around, Carol turned to her mother and tugged on her shirtsleeve. "Witches and demons, Mom! Really? Witches? What does he mean scarier things are waiting to come get us? I'm not scared, you know. I'm just making sure you and Dad are okay. That's all."

Pausing for a moment, Carol's mother looked out into the still night surrounding them. "He was just trying to scare you, and it looks like it worked. There really isn't anything to be afraid of out there. Remember, these were only stories," she added.

Somehow, she didn't quite sound as if she believed what she was saying, so Carol did not feel particularly reassured that there was not really anything out there.

Waking up the next morning, Carol was sure to check on the other campers who had come on the company camping trip with them. This was not hard to do, since their group, only took up eleven campsites in all. Carol was deeply relieved to see that no one had gone missing during the night.

That evening, after dinner, Carol and her parents joined the other campers around the fire-pit for roasting marshmallows and the continuation of the campfire stories.

While letting her thoughts wander off, it occurred to Carol that she had not mentioned to her mom and dad, that earlier she had seen a creepy little man, a short way off in the distance. Oddly, she couldn't help but wonder who he was or where he had come from. She was not quite able to see his face. He kept his head down and wore a wide brimmed hat. Even though it was very warm out during the day, he wore a pair of tattered black gloves and a long black coat. Carol guessed he must not have been able to walk especially well, as she watched him walking hunched over and clutching the top of a strange looking crooked stick that he used as a cane.

Carol's attention was snapped back to the present, as the first of the campers took his place in the center of the group near the fire, to begin his story for the night. This story started out like most of the stories that were told the night before. The next storyteller, however, had one significant difference. The previous stories were all about things hiding in the woods or near some cabins, but this one was about a lake creature.

After announcing what his story was about, he paused for a moment. Without saying another word, he slowly raised his arm and pointed his finger. As all eyes followed the direction he was pointing, they all became frightfully aware of the close vicinity of the lake to where they were currently sitting.

Carol was sitting on the lakeside of the fire-pit with a couple of new camping friends, when suddenly; she shuddered. She was sure she felt the icy fingers of the lake monster slithering up her back. Not wanting her back to the lake, Carol quickly rose and made her way over to where her parents were sitting. Nestling between them on the other side of the fire-pit, she was surprised to see that she was not the only one to get up and move to the other side of the campfire.

Satisfied that his theatrics had set the appropriate mood for his story, the storyteller dropped his arm back down to his side and began his tale.

"Sunlight or the bright light put off by a fire, are the only things that can hurt it. Because of this, it always waits for the cover of darkness, where it hides and watches for the campers to get too far away from the light of the fire."

He continued to tiptoe around the fire-pit, as he told his story. With all eye's riveted on his every move, he crouched down and acted as if he were trying to hide from the creature that he spoke of.

"The lake creature would ooze and slither out of the water, silently with cold, wet slime dripping off of its body," he uttered in a deep and sinister voice.

At this point in the story, Carol found herself looking toward the shoreline for anything oozing out of the water, rather than at the man telling the story.

"You always knew when the creature was near. The ground you walked on felt cold and damp to the touch," he whispered. Then shuddering, he drew in a ragged breath, as he pretended to be scared half to death himself.

Carol had been sitting between her parents with her legs pulled in close to her, while balancing her feet on the log seat. There was not much room, so after a while Carol was forced to unwrap herself and place her feet back down on the ground.

"E-E-E-E-E-E!" followed by "O-O-O-O-H-H-H, A-W-W-W!" filled the air, as her startled scream created a chain reaction, causing most of the other campers to scream as well.

Having taken off her shoes and socks, Carol's feet had touched something cold and wet on the ground, and while trying to get away from whatever was down there, she had almost tumbled the three of them, backwards over the log seat. Gathering her wits about her, Carol noticed that she had tipped over her mom's cold soda, and that's what she had stepped in.

After everyone had calmed back down, the storyteller gave a wry smile, almost as if he had expected someone to scream. He then continued with his story. "The creature would move ever closer to the unsuspecting campers. As it neared the camp, it would pause while watching and waiting for one of them to wander over too close to the bushes, away from the reach of the campfire light."

"You're not still scared, are you?" Carol's father asked.

Looking up at him, Carol boldly answered "Oh, no," as she continued to creep closer to the firelight. "I'm just trying to stay warm."

The man continued, "The campers could hear the rustling of the leaves and the snapping of the occasional twig, as the creature made its way closer and closer to them."

Carol was feeling terribly nervous now. She just knew that she could hear the creature he spoke of, moving around in the bushes, behind them. The hairs on her arms stood on end, as her skin tingled with fear. Carol was also sure that she could feel the lake creature's slimy fingers slither up her spine and over the top of her head, then back down into the pit of her stomach.

The man, as he told his story, kept creeping closer to Carol and her parents. He began speaking in an even lower tone as he continued walking slowly around, staring at everyone one by one.

As he worked his way nearer, Carol couldn't help wanting to get closer to her parents, even though they were not sitting as close to the fire as she would have liked. Moving back to sit between them, Carol held tightly onto their arms.

The storyteller's voice had become even quieter and grave sounding. "Closer and closer it would come..." he almost whispered, as he circled back around one more time to where Carol was sitting. Then, without warning, he leaped toward her yelling, "AND THERE IT IS, BEHIND YOU!"

The resulting response, from Carol and the others that were sitting near her, resembled someone setting off a chain reaction by knocking over the first domino in a carefully laid out display. The screaming cascaded around the fire-pit area, leaving no voice unheard. Some people sat clutching at the person next to them, while drawing their feet up off the ground. Others jumped up and stood wildly shaking their hands in the air, while stamping their feet, on the ground in front of them.

After calming back down, everyone, including Carol, sat and laughed a nervous, hollow laugh. Carol didn't know about anyone else, but she did not feel very funny right now.

They all watched, as the owner of the company stood up and walked to the center of the circle. After clearing his throat, he went on to say, "Well, I must say, I think this may be, at least for me, my favorite story told thus far. However, to keep things fair, we will leave the decision of who the true winner is, up to whoever gets the most votes at the end of our story telling tomorrow night."

Carol tried to act as if she didn't honestly believe any of the stories each person had told for the night were true. Still, she was surer now more than ever that she could hear the creatures that they spoke of walking around in the woods, as everyone returned to their tents.

Looking toward the lake, Carol had to wonder if the ripples she saw in the water were caused by the lake creature waiting to pull one of them into the murky depths.

Even though the stories told each night did tend to scare Carol, she was not about to admit it to anyone. Oddly enough, she still looked forward to the telling of the next tale of terror.

Chapter 2: The Old Man

Waking early the next morning, Carol surveyed the campsite with mixed feelings. This would be the last full day here; tomorrow everyone would be leaving camp and heading back to the real world.

Wanting to make the most of what time she had left, Carol headed out to explore the surrounding campground near their campsite. She figured as long as she kept the tent area in sight that it would be okay to go look around. However, as it is often said _, Good intentions are not always what happens, or something like that_ , Carol chuckled to herself.

While poking around the edge of the designated tent area, Carol's curiosity was aroused by shuffling noises coming from over the top of a small hill in front of her. Glancing back at the campsite and still not seeing or hearing any movement coming from inside the tent, Carol figured, _What harm could come from peeking over the top of the hill?_

Dropping down onto her hands and knees, just short of the top of the hill, Carol crawled the last few feet, until she was able to peer over the edge.

Carol had expected to find a small animal rummaging around in the brush when she peeked over the top of the hill. Instead, she was surprised to find herself staring down at the creepy old man that she had seen hovering around the edge of the campground over the last couple of days. Carol knew he was not part of their group. She had met all of the employees and their family members who had joined them on this trip.

Filled with curiosity, Carol watched, as he continued to poke at the ground with his cane. Drawing in a sharp breath, she quickly ducked down, when he suddenly turned to look up toward her.

_Who is he? What was he doing down there_? Not able to contain her curiosity, Carol ventured to look again, only to be sidetracked, when she heard her mother's voice calling for her to come back to camp _. I will need to come back later and see if I can tell what he was doing down there,_ she thought to herself.

The day passed even faster than the one before, and once again, it was time to gather for the last night of campfire tales.

Carol was sitting in anticipation, when she found her attention pulled away by the sounds of rustling in the nearby brush. _Oh, that's right. I had wanted to go back and check on what that old man had been doing. Oh well, no matter. He's here now._

Carol continued to watch the old man as he came awkwardly stumbling out of the brush to take a seat on the same rock that she had seen him on the last two nights. He always sat just outside the reach of the firelight, like a shadow hiding in the darkness.

"I guess he has come to enjoy the stories told at the end of the festivities," Carol mused aloud, as she did not think anyone else even noticed him.

Carol could not help thinking how odd it was, that he had no story to tell like the others. _Even though he didn't work for the sporting goods company, I'm sure it would be okay. Even Mom and Dad had tried their hand at one,_ Carol pondered silently.

Turning back around to face the fire, Carol couldn't help feeling a little sad. This was the last night of their family trip. It was all over much too soon.

Like the nights before this one, the owner of the company stood up to announce that it was time to begin the campfire stories. The announcement was always followed by someone quickly jumping up to take a shot at scaring everyone. Each, as they stood to take their turn, assured everyone that their story of terror was much better than any of the stories heard thus far.

Nudging Carol with his elbow, a squat looking man sitting to the right of her leaned over to whisper, "You know, the smart thing to do, is to wait until the end to tell your story."

Seeing a puzzled expression on her face, he continued to explain himself. "If you wait until last to tell your story, then you can listen to all the others before yours, and then decide on what to add to yours to make it the best."

Stopping to think about it, Carol decided that actually made perfect sense. _I will have to remember this for later,_ Carol made a mental note.

After everyone had tried their hand at winning the prize, the squat man sitting next to Carol, grunted, as he slowly rose to his feet.

While he was telling his story, Carol decided he was right; she did think his story was scarier than all the others told so far. He was able to take all the scariest parts of the stories told before his and put them together into one story.

After he had finished, the owner of the sporting goods company stood holding his hand up in the air, pausing briefly, he waited for everyone to be silent. "Okay, we have heard many stories of suspense and terror, and now you must vote on who you thought told the best or shall I say worst, of all the stories this year. Unless..." he paused again, as he scanned the faces of everyone present. "...there is anyone who has not taken a turn and would like to try?"

Everyone sat quietly whispering amongst themselves, while waiting to see if anyone stepped forward. To keep the contest fair, each person was only allowed one attempt to win the prize. When no one came forward, a young slender, built woman, wearing a pair of khaki slacks and a coordinating cotton shirt, got up and began passing out pieces of paper, along with small wooden pencils for everyone to cast their vote. Carol recognized her as one of the ladies who had been introduced to her as part of the office staff.

"After you have written down your choice, fold up your paper. I will be back around with a basket to collect them."

At first, no one noticed the odd little man stepping forward into the fire-pit area. Suddenly, all eyes were upon him, as he continued to move into the center, where he hesitantly began to speak.

"I have listened to the fables and follies you have all told this night and those of the nights before."

His voice was hoarse and quiet, almost hard to hear at first, causing everyone to lean in a little closer, in order to hear him better. Carol was sure everyone else was as curious as she was and did not want to miss any of what he was about to say.

He stood hunched over, leaning heavily on his cane and slightly to the left, while holding his right arm and hand close to his chest. He was smaller close up than Carol had thought him to be, and with what she considered to be the perfect face for telling scary stories. His face was etched with deep lines; his eyes were dark and lifeless. The clothing he wore looked worn and tattered in places, as it hung loosely on his small frame. Carol shuddered slightly, when she heard someone whispering to their neighbor, about how much he reminded him of an undertaker one would see in a late night movie.

Everyone continued to stare at him, as he stopped talking for a moment, in order to take in a shallow raspy breath, before continuing. "I did not speak up sooner... for I did not want to offer this account as a story to be judged... but as a warning."

Carol felt as though he was staring directly at her as he continued to speak, "No one knows when they first began taking humans, but their legend can be traced back to ancient times..."

Not a sound was to be heard; even the crickets had ceased their serenade to each other. It was almost as if the night itself was straining to hear what he had to say next.

"I once was, as you are now, part of a happy home, with two loving parents. My father had a good job, and my mother was a homemaker. I thought it would always be that way. However, my bliss came to a sudden and unexpected end. Now, my days are filled with despair. The apprehension each day brings contains only darkness. I hold no interest in any day before or after this one. Most days I sit in my room, afraid to go near my bed, afraid of what lies in the darkness beneath it. I thought if I took the bed out of the house and slept on the floor, I would feel safer. I realized, all too soon... there is nowhere that they cannot find you. Nowhere, you are safe. They hide in dark places..."

Everyone sat in stunned silence.

After struggling to take a deep breath, he stopped, yet again, to stare off into the black lifeless night surrounding this small group of unwitting campers. "I have come forward, on this final evening, to warn you of the dangers that await you, upon your return to your homes. They will soon discover that I have escaped from my tormentor, and I fear that it will not take them long to come and reclaim me. Then, they will come for you. Do not... take my warning lightly," he growled.

His demeanor became quiet and mysterious, as he shifted his weight from one side to the other, as if he was remembering something unpleasant.

No one dared to move or even speak a word. Everyone sat frozen like statues, as the tension continued to build, while waiting for what he was going to say next...

He moaned softly, as he shifted his weight yet again.

Everyone could see by the expression on his face, that the effort of trying to stand so long clearly caused him a great deal of pain. To Carol, he looked so sad and lost. Carol felt a strange feeling of despair wash over her as she sat looking at him. Trying hard not to start crying, Carol could not help wondering, if anyone else sitting around the fire-pit was feeling the same way.

Pointing a long, boney finger, he continued his warning to everyone in attendance this evening. "They were good, the stories you told each night before this. Some maybe even held some bits of truth to them. Nevertheless, none are as true as what I am to warn you of this evening, your final night here. I choose to save my warning until the end, so I would not put a damper on your festivities."

The shadows from the firelight cast the most mysterious shapes on his face and body, as if to aid him in telling his story.

He stood with his head bent down, not saying a word, for what seemed like an eternity. His gaze seemed to be focused on some small object on the ground in front of him. Carol noticed that she was not the only one who thought he was staring at something on the ground. When she glanced around, she noticed that the others were all staring at the ground too; trying to figure out what he was looking at.

"I was a small boy the first time..." his voice trailed off, as if he were trying to gather his thoughts. "I was a small boy the first time I saw it," he repeated, only this time his voice was different. He sounded scared and in pain, as if he was reliving a bad memory.

He stood holding his right hand in his left, clearly favoring it. His breathing had become much more labored and shallow. Backing away from the fire, while telling his story, caused deeper, darker shadows to form on his face, casting a foreboding mood over the entire group.

He continued to hold everyone spell bound, as he resumed his warning of the dangers waiting for each of them upon their return home.

There was something unexplainable, in the way he acted and in the sound of his voice that had everyone riveted to his every word, his every move.

By this time, Carol's concern for the old man had been completely replaced by a deep sense of dread. It felt as if the old man was speaking directly to her, as she began to wonder about the dangers that possibly awaited her in her room.

"When you go to bed, they wait for a hand or foot to slip over the edge. They can and will, use this as an opportunity to grab you, dragging you under your bed and into the shadows, never to be seen nor heard from again."

Hearing a sound next to her, Carol's attention was briefly brought back into focus. Glancing around the fire-pit area, Carol could see by the looks on the other camper's faces that they appeared to be as scared as she was. Although, she did not think anyone would be willing to admit it. She knew she was right, when the entire group gasped or screamed with fear, when he reached out, and with a quick jerking motion simulated the creature he was speaking of grabbing and dragging something back with it.

Turning around, he shuffled back closer to the fire. He stood with his back to everyone, pausing again. His small frame shook slightly, as if he were cold.

_How could he be cold?_ Carol thought. _He's standing right next to the fire._

Slowly, he turned and walked over to a stump. He sat down before continuing his warning.

"I was small for my age and the other boys liked to make a game of bullying me. Therefore, I spent most of my time playing alone in my room or in my backyard when the weather was nice. It was on my seventh birthday, that I received a red fire engine from my parents. Oh, how I loved my fire engine." The sad tormented scowl on his face softened briefly. "The weather was wicked that day. It always rained on my birthday..." he said, twisting his lips into a sideways smile, which appeared anything but happy.

Carol thought, _How miserable it must be to always have it rain on your birthday._

"Mother asked me to take my fire engine into my room to play, while she and Father were busy. I must admit, the bells and sirens were loud. I had been playing for about an hour when I decided to build some ramps out of my reading books. This worked out great, until one time... I pushed my engine too hard, which caused my truck to fall off the ramp, and it rolled under my bed. I decided the engine had jumped off a collapsing bridge and landed inside a burning building. I quickly crawled over to the edge of the bed to set the ramp back up."

The old man sat waving his left arm, while he pulled his right hand close against his chest. Leaning forward and closing his eyes, he struggled to catch his breath for a moment. The features on his face pulled tight and his lips slightly parted, showing long stained yellow teeth.

Carol couldn't help wondering if he was in pain or just sick and not feeling well. She hoped he was not going to pass out while telling his story. Selfish as it sounded, she didn't want to miss the end. But then, she guessed he must be okay, because he continued with his story.

"After fixing the ramp, I laid down on the floor next to the bed, so I could lift up the bedspread and see how far my fire engine had rolled under. I could see it had not rolled under that far, so I scooted myself closer to the edge of the bed in order to reach under and get it."

Carol didn't know if it was the expressions on his face while telling his story, or perhaps the sound of his voice, that caused her to draw her legs up while trying to balance her feet on the log seat. The hairs on the top of her head prickled and tingled, causing her to shake slightly.

The old man continued, "I started to reach under the bed to roll out my fire engine, when I saw something moving, ever so slightly. I didn't have any pets, so I could not imagine what it could be. I could see what looked like _something_ , clinging to the bottom slats of my box spring. I continued to lie on the floor next to the bed. I stayed very still, because I wanted to get a good look at it. It was too dark under the bed for me to be able to figure out what type of animal this might be. I needed more light. Reaching up with my other hand, I slowly raised the bedspread. As the light increased, the beast turned toward me, giving out a loud, gruesome, crackling hiss! My right hand was still under the bed clutching onto the fire engine, which had come to a stop not far from this... this... creature."

At this point in his story, the old man sat trembling, as if he really was there in the room with the monster and scared out of his wits. A young freckled faced boy sitting nearest to him started to get up and check on him, but the old man held up his hand. Shaking his head, he motioned for the boy to sit back down.

He then continued with what everyone had assumed was only a story. "I lay as motionless as I could, afraid to move, while at the same time, I was fascinated by what this might be. The red eyes of the creature stared back at me. My senses were assaulted by a foul pungent smell coming from the creature's breath, which left me feeling light headed and queasy to my stomach. The creature smelled of dead, rotting flesh, much worse than the dead mouse my mother had found under the icebox. It was worse than _anything_ I had ever smelled before. It seemed like I lay still staring back at it for hours. But really, it was only moments after spying the creature, before it leapt towards me, tearing into my hand with its sharp jagged teeth."

The old man's face became strained and grotesque in its features. His eyes darted wildly about, back and forth in a nervous and sporadic manner. "The horrible little beast tore at my hand with its sharp jagged claws, as it continued to make hissing and crackling sounds. I could feel it trying to pull me under the bed. I frantically grabbed for something, anything, to hold onto. Clutching at the bedspread, I managed to pull the covers completely off the bed. The creature shrank away when the light this let in, touched his naked wrinkled skin, sending up wisps of pale smoke. I was shrieking at the pain and sheer terror I felt, as the beast continued to try to pull me under the bed."

All watching the old man could swear that he was reliving the agony and terror that he was telling about in his story. It was as if he was the boy in the story that had been attacked.

Looking around, Carol noticed, along with herself, that everyone else held their right hand close to their chest and had the same look of horror etched across each of their faces.

Pausing briefly, he leered at each of the campers with a desperate pleading look on his face.

"While pulling my hand free, I continued to howl and cry for my mother and father to save me. Hearing my parents shout to me from the hallway, along with the light, now glaring under the bed, the creature recoiled and halted its attack. Darting out from under the bed, it shot across the room, hissing and crackling the entire time. Reaching the far side of my room, it scrambled up the book shelf beneath my window."

"I wasn't supposed to have my window cracked open while it was raining, but I liked the smell of the rain. The creature stopped, to look back at me, before it leaped out of the window only a moment before Mother and Father came running through my bedroom door. Seeing blood everywhere, Mother rushed over to me and grabbed my hand, while wrapping her apron around it. I continued to scream about a monster that jumped out the window."

"Without thinking, Father ran over to the window, slammed it shut, and locked it. He peered into the driving rain, searching for the thing that I was ranting about. His attention was brought back to the room by Mother shouting at him to get the doctor."

"Over the next couple of days no one was able to find any trace of the animal. They searched under every house, in every barn, and every hollow tree stump. Most guessed that it had to be a skunk or cat of some kind. I received the treatment for rabies, since they could not find the animal. Everyone said the series of shots made me delirious, because I rambled on into the night about a small creature that clung to the bottom of my bed and tried to eat me. After that, most people decided that it had to be a large bat of some kind, because bats like the dark and hanging upside down under things, while at rest. No one believed my story about what I saw under my bed."

All watched, as the old man stood, waving his good hand wildly around in the air. The panic in his eyes and the short gasps for breath horrified everyone, as he neared the end of his story of terror.

He added, still half out of breath, "I know, all of this is difficult to believe, but I am here to tell you that it is all too true. And here is the proof!" he cried out, as he pulled off the glove that he had been wearing and held up his right hand in the firelight.

His hand was not a normal-looking hand, as one could plainly see. It had, at one time, been horribly mangled and scarred. This caused everyone, especially Carol, to shriek in surprise and fear, as he did this.

Carol franticly asked both of her parents, while trying to keep the fear she felt, from showing in her voice. "Is it true? What he says, is it really true? Are there things hiding under your bed waiting to drag you under, after the light goes out, or when you reach under your bed to get something?"

"Of course not, Dear," they both tried to reassure her. "It's just a story made up to frighten little girls. And I see that it seems to have worked on you," Carol's father added trying not to let anyone see that he had also been unnerved by the story.

"He's as good a story teller as I have ever heard," he whispered to Carol's mother. "Did you see how he used the firelight to cast shadows on his face and body, instead of the flashlight like the rest of us?"

"Yes, I did," she replied, holding on tightly to his arm, while Carol sat clutching the other one.

Carol could hear the others saying how they too noticed that he had not used the flashlight like all the others did, but made use of the firelight, letting the shadows dance wickedly across his face and body. No one wanted to mention his mangled hand, in hopes that it would keep the story from seeming too real.

"The faraway look in his eyes appeared as if he was recalling a previous time, when something awful really did happen to him," Carol's father commented, while standing up to gather their things. Then while looking over towards his frightened little girl, he added, "Come on, Little Miss Scaredy Cat."

"Oh, no, Dad, I'm not really afraid," Carol insisted, as she clung to his arm, while looking around to see if there was anything following them back to their tent.

"What's that for?" Carol inquired, as her father reached over to pick up a big stick before they left to make their way back to the tent.

"Oh, nothing dear, I just didn't want anyone to trip on it in the dark," he assured Carol and her mother.

Carol didn't quite believe him, as she watched him peering off into the shadows. Instead of tossing the stick off the path, as he usually would have done, he kept it in his hand while his wife held onto his arm.

Carol also couldn't help but notice, as they walked to the tent area, that her father was not the only one to pick up a stick while leaving the fire-pit. No one dared to speak above a whisper, as they made their way back to their campsites.

Carol thought nervously to herself about the stories told during the nights before this one. She was sure that she could hear the creatures that they had spoken of that night, moving among the bushes and trees. However, tonight there were no sounds; no movement... all was quiet.

"What do you suppose happened to his hand?" Carol asked.

"An accident of some sort, I'm sure. Nothing to worry you about, Little Lady," Carol's father reassured her, as they continued to walk down the path not far from where the stories had been told.

Looking back at the fire-pit again, everyone had left for the night, except the odd little man who remained near what was left of the burning embers. He stood holding his hand up and looking at it, as if he was remembering the time that he really did find something under his bed.

No one noticed that a winner had not been picked for the campfire stories after the end of the old man's warning.

The memories of the camping trip were not the only things they brought back with them. The warning the old man had told during their last night, would haunt them longer than anyone could imagine.

### Chapter 3: The Journey

Although Carol tried not to let on that the story had frightened her, her mother knew it had, when she would see Carol standing in her bedroom doorway, staring at her bed.

Hoping it would help her daughter feel safer, she would wait by the door, while Carol ran across the room and leapt into the bed for the night. Carol was particularly careful not to touch the floor too close the edge of the bed. With the blankets pulled up over her head, Carol would lay dead still, not moving a muscle, as the lights went out. After a few minutes, Carol would slowly look out from under the covers, straining to see if she could spot anything moving around in her room.

One day, her mother stopped waiting for Carol to run and get into bed before turning the light out for her.

"You are old enough not to be afraid of imaginary trolls or monster hiding in your room; it is time for you to grow up," is all she would say.

"Shadow monsters don't care how old you are," Carol whispered each night as she ran on tiptoe to leap into bed. Carol hoped she was quiet enough not to be heard by her parents. If they did hear her, they never let on.

As the weeks went by without hearing or seeing anything, Carol found herself starting to believe that the creatures hiding under the bed did not really exist. That is, until one night, when her parents had a couple over for a visit. Carol knew she wasn't supposed to be listening in on their conversation. Nevertheless, she couldn't help overhearing it from where she was sitting in the kitchen.

"The full moon makes the crazies come out and roam the streets," Mary said, while helping Carol's mom pour some tea. "You know, we had a near miss with one on the way over here tonight. One of them ran right out in front of our car. It was almost as if they were trying to get us..." Mary's voice trailed off, before she finished what she was saying.

"They are everywhere when there's a full moon out," Carol's mom added.

_They? Did she say they?_ _You mean there's more than one of them out there?_

Getting up from the kitchen table and walking over to the window, Carol stared out into the light layer of fog shrouding their front yard. If there was one thing the small English township they lived in was famous for, it was fog. Everyone could count, on each night, for it to silently roll in like a ghostly specter.

While looking out the window, Carol was sure, that she could see a crazy out in the yard, trying to sneak in closer to the house to get her. Carol could not help wondering if it was these crazies, that they were talking about. They would come into your home, and hide under your bed, waiting to pull you under, and eat you! Alas, Carol was back at square one; back to fearing the dark places in her room.

After managing to scare herself, Carol slowly crept into her room, while being sure to leave the light on for safety. Not wanting to take any chances, Carol shoved everything she could under the bed, making sure to leave no room for the crazies to hide under there. So far, Carol figured that this had worked out well, since she was still in one piece every morning.

The next time Mary and her husband came over to visit, Carol hid just out of sight. She listened in on another conversation, in case they had any more news about the crazies who came out to roam the streets at night.

Instead of Mary and her husband bringing any additional news to share, Carol's dad was the one who had a surprise to share with them.

Carol became instantly excited to hear he was going to be moving his family to America, in order to take on a position with a new company setting up over there.

Carol had heard a lot about America. How everything was marvelous and full of opportunity; she was sure it would be a grand adventure.

Not wanting to waste any time getting away from the crazies, Carol was up early the next morning, packing everything in her room. Except for the things she had placed under her bed, she was sure this was the only thing keeping the creatures living under there from getting her. Carol knew they would stop at nothing to get their claws into her, when they found out that she was about to escape to America.

Entering her daughter's room to get her for breakfast, Carol's mother smiled coyly, "I guess you heard the news about us moving again," she remarked, as she surveyed all the items that Carol had packed up all ready.

"Yes!" Carol almost shouted, hardly able to contain her excitement.

"Well, you are packing a little too soon, Little One. We still have to check on departure dates and book passage," Carol's mom said, as she walked out into the hallway to head back to the kitchen.

Carol didn't care, they were moving away from here. After all the good things she had heard about America, Carol was sure they couldn't possibly have any horrible creatures living over there, and she would not have to be afraid anymore.

***

It was three fast weeks after hearing the news, before Carol and her parents were to start on their journey. With only one day left before their departure, Carol sat on the floor near the last empty box she had, staring at the things she had left to pack. Carol wondered if by now it was safe to take the things out from under the bed.

_Since it was daylight now, it should be safe._ _Even so, what if they are hiding under there? It's dark and safe for them under the bed with all my things blocking out the light, but there shouldn't be enough room._ Still, each time Carol started to reach for one of the things under the bed, she would end up drawing her hand away.

Passing by Carol's room, her mother paused at the doorway to look in on her daughter's progress. Carol was still sitting next to the same empty box, staring at the things under her bed.

"Why don't you take a break from your room and see if your father needs any help?"

Carol did not need to be asked twice. Carol was on her feet and out the door, before her mother could say another word.

After helping her father with a few things outside, Carol slowly returned to her room to finish the chore of packing. A deep sense of relief washed over her, as she stood in her doorway looking into her room. Her mother had stayed behind and finished packing everything Carol still had under her bed. She had even taken apart the bed and leaned it against the wall.

"How silly I was for believing that anything could be hiding under there," Carol mused to herself.

Carol watched out the back window of the cab with mixed feelings. Sighing, Carol slumped back down in the seat. She wondered if moving across the ocean to America would better their lives, or if it would have the same horrid creatures that the old man had warned them about living under their beds over there too. Carol had not paid much attention to the sounds in her room at night until after hearing the old man's warning. Now the noises coming from under her bed had her wondering if what he said was really true.

_No, everyone said America was a land of opportunity, and full of milk and honey. There is no way something as evil as the creatures that he spoke of could live in a place as wonderful as America_.

With the old car and most of their larger belongings sold, they were able to pay for passage to America by freighter. The rest of the money would go for food and rent, until her father received his first paycheck from his new job.

Arriving at the ship, the few passengers who had decided to travel by freighter were briefly informed on the ship rules and told that most of their items would need to be stowed below, due to the small size of the cabins.

Walking up the ramp to get on the ship, Carol paused to have a look around. As she peered into the dark shadows, on the ship, Carol couldn't help wondering if the creatures hiding under her bed at home were also hiding under the beds on the ship.

These fears were short lived, after seeing the beds in the cabin. The cabins did not have any real beds for little creatures to hide under, instead, there were only these funny narrow boards attached to the wall and stacked over one another. Being the smallest, Carol was assigned the top bunk. _Great,_ she thought, as she scampered up to the top.

Looking out the porthole, which was about six inches above her bunk, Carol asked her mother, "The water can't get in here, can it?" while watching her put away their things in a small wooden box attached to the floor.

"No, Dear, the water can't get in here." Her eyes were a soft blue. They could give anyone a sense of security, with only a glance.

Climbing back down and standing in the middle of the cabin, Carol continued to survey her surroundings _. I honestly don't mind having to climb up so high off the floor to get into bed. The water will take longer to get up there, just in case Mom is wrong,_ Carol reasoned with herself.

Later that afternoon, after a long and boring departure, Carol made her way over to the railing, to peer over the side to see what might be on the horizon. There was not much to look at. The water went on in every direction, as far as she could see.

The small waves gently rocked the ship, as it chugged along. The air was crisp and clean, with the tangy smell of salt.

The passengers numbered about forty or so, and they were all adults, from Carol's last attempt to count them. "I guess not many people wanted to travel across the ocean on a cargo ship," Carol reasoned.

After a few days at sea, Carol stood, wondering what day it was. _Maybe it's Friday?_ But she honestly didn't know or care. It's easy to lose track of what day it is out on the open water. Each day was much the same as the last.

Nearly falling asleep while leaning on a nearby post, a flicker of something silvery-grey caught Carol's attention. Standing up straighter, she grabbed hold of the railing and stared into the water. Not spotting anything, she turned around and started to head off to check on what her mother might be up to, when she again caught sight of a flash of silvery-grey. There was another, then another. The fish she finally spotted were not swimming, but leaping out of the water.

Not able to contain her excitement, Carol grabbed hold of a crew member as he passed by and asked what sort of fish these were jumping and practically flying out of the water.

Setting down the box he had been carrying, he carefully leaned over the railing to determine what kind they were that Carol had tried to describe to him.

After watching the fish flying in and out of the water for a few minutes, he replied "Them ain't any fish, them be dolphins. They brings us good luck." Picking up the box, he then returned to his duties without as much as a 'Good bye.'

In need of an activity to occupy her time, with something other than watching for fish, Carol began to tell stories of adventure, based on these mysterious flying fish. Instead of fish, they became flying dragons and wizards. Surprisingly, Carol hadn't given much thought to how deep the water might be or if there were any pirates laying claim to these waters. These questions, along with her imagination, led to excellent ideas and tales of adventure.

With her imagination in full swing, Carol wasted no time in creating stories about princesses in need of rescuing from pirates that had come to steal the treasure and kidnap the princess. The pirates' plans were always foiled by a dashing captain who had come to save the day. Of course, the princess and the captain would sail off into the sunset to live happily ever after.

One day, while telling a particularly good story to a seagull perched on a nearby box, Carol caught the attention of a passing couple who sat down to listen to the rest of the story.

"You should share your stories more often, young lady," the woman said, while patting Carol on the head.

The thought of other passengers being interested in hearing stories of adventure, started Carol right away on planning what the next story would be based on.

The next day, Carol spotted the same couple sitting on a couple of deck chairs. Carol took in a quick breath, as she came to a stop a few feet away from them. _Did they honestly want to hear another story or were they just being polite?_

"Oh, my dear, how are you?" the tall slender woman asked.

"Good," Carol replied.

"Did you have any more stories?" the women asked, smiling.

"Well, yes, I did have one more," Carol answered, excited at having them ask her, instead of the other way around.

With a wide broken grin, her husband patted his hand on top of the crate nearest to them, and said, "Come, sit. I too would love to hear another story of adventure in lands far, far away."

Carol needed no more coaxing than that and promptly hopped up on top of the crate to begin telling them her newest story. At the end, they politely applauded and seemed genuinely entertained.

Word of her stories spread quickly around the ship. Two days later, Carol had most of the passengers coming to listen to her tell her stories near the wheelhouse, since it was the only place free of enough cargo boxes for everyone to be able to sit, without being too crowded.

However, the number of listeners soon dwindled, as the stories became repetitious and predictable. The hero can only rescue the princess so many different ways, before people become bored and find something else to do.

One evening, after climbing up on the crate to get ready, Carol patiently waited for someone to come and hear her story for the night. After waiting for an hour, Carol sighed as she climbed down to return to her cabin. Sadly, no one came to listen this time, no one at all.

Deciding that she liked having people come to hear her stories, Carol was determined to create new and entirely different stories to grab the interest of the other passengers. _But, what kind of adventure should I try to build my stories on?_ That was the question.

The next afternoon, Carol sat, staring blankly out to sea. After an hour, her thoughts remained as empty as the horizon. She kept thinking, _There has to be something that I can use to come up with a story that people will want to come and listen to._

Feeling a slight chill as the breeze brushed across her bare arms, Carol's attention was brought back into focus. Looking around, she realized that she hadn't noticed how dark it had become. Feeling a little uneasy, almost like someone or something was watching her, Carol quickly gathered her things to go back inside.

Deciding to take a shortcut, by half-stepping and half-jumping over a pile of ropes, Carol came crashing down on the deck. Carol's eyes widen with fear when she found herself staring into two large red eyes, which were attached to one of the largest rats she had ever seen. Its body was covered with dirty brown hair. The rat had what looked like a deep scar running across its right shoulder. Carol guessed he must have had a run-in with one of the cats on board the ship.

Carol's imagination began to race wildly in every direction at once, as she tried to scramble to her feet. Without looking back, both the rat and Carol disappeared in opposite directions.

Coming to a stop inside the main hatchway, Carol leaned against the wall.

"I could have been dragged away and never seen again," Carol gasped for air, as she tried to calm back down.

"That's it!" Carol scurried off towards the cabin. The scare she just had and the thoughts of being carried off, reminded her of the campfire stories. _Everyone always came to listen to those stories._

Stopping just short of her cabin doorway, Carol hesitated for a moment. She had managed to push the story told by the odd little man almost completely out of her mind, until now. The smile drained from her face, as she walked into their cabin and climbed up onto her bunk to rest. The warning the old man at the campground had told played itself out in her mind.

Over the next few days, Carols' audiences grew as the stories she began to tell, slowly became darker and more perilous, centering on creatures that would come out only under the cover of darkness.

The stories continued to progress more towards fighting off wicked little creatures and demons, conjured up by an evil sorcerer who took immense pleasure in terrorizing the surrounding kingdoms.

Sometimes, the demons were unusually strong and powerful enough to pick you up and fly off with you. Other times, the creatures Carol spoke of, were extremely small and hid in dark shadows, waiting to grab you under the very noses of the others living in the same house.

Carol found it quite odd that the stories she told about the smaller creatures seemed to scare the passengers more, perhaps because you couldn't always spot them coming.

Word of the changes in her stories made their way around the ship faster than news of the stories did the first time. Even some of the crew, when off duty, would stop by to listen.

Having so many people come to hear her tell stories made Carol feel very important and encouraged her to make each story scarier than the last.

In need of an idea for her story the next night, Carol reluctantly decided to base her story, even more, on the vile hideous creatures that hid in the shadows and under the bed.

It would be well after the sun had succumbed to the spell of the moon and had given up the sky to her, when Carol's mom or dad would come to collect her. Saying goodnight to all who had come to listen to her stories, Carol would leave them with an open invitation to return for more stories the next night.

Stopping to gaze out at the sea, Carol marveled at how different it looked from the day. At night, the soft blues and greens were replaced by a dark, shiny pool of black ink, which the sky used to obscure itself. It was so dark, that you were unable to tell where the sky ended and the water began. Carol was sure the sea held many secrets and many fears in the depths of its murky water. To any who cast their eyes upon it during the night, it would bring no comfort.

Carol thought back to the passengers who had come to hear the story that she had shared for the evening. One small, old man stood out in her mind above all the rest. He did not come to hear her stories when she first began. He had not started coming until after the stories became more about things hiding in the shadows or under your bed.

The old man sat each night, with his hands folded in his lap. He always wore the same dark hat with a wide brim, along with the same black gloves. His left hand, which he favored, appeared to have been severely injured at some point. Even though he never removed his gloves, Carol was still quite certain of this.

He reminded her of the creepy old man, who had first told the story about the creatures that she had based her stories on recently. His eyes had the same lifeless appearance about them. They seemed to be filled with a deep sadness and sense of loss.

Even though his clothes were loose fitting and hung on his small frame, Carol would see him shiver, sometimes violently. She didn't know if this was from listening to her stories, or from the wind that would suddenly come sweeping up off the cold ocean water, whistling and howling, as it twisted its way across the deck, carrying on its back, the voices of the lost souls claimed by the sea.

When Carol happened to glance in his direction, she would try not to stare at his hand. Instead, she would look at the others who had come, as they listened intently to the stories that Carol had prepared for them each night.

Most of the passengers appeared to enjoy being scared. They would all sit very close together, "safety in numbers," one dark-haired man quipped, as he squeezed his way into the middle of the group of people who had come to listen.

Everyone that is, except for the old man. He would return each night, sitting in the same place on a crate that had been tied down to keep it from shifting. The crate sat about ten feet away from where Carol would sit to tell her stories.

Carol would sometimes find herself watching him while he sat under one of the oil lanterns. She could almost swear that she could see strange shapes hidden in the shadows surrounding him. Sometimes, the shapes appeared to be alive with the way they shifted and changed form. It was almost as if the shadows were taunting him, although she knew that could not possibly be true.

Even at night, he wore a wide-brimmed hat, which obscured part of his face. This made it difficult to see if his expression ever changed. The part of his face that she could see looked ashen and not real at all. It was more like something that she would describe in one of her stories. Carol could not help wondering what would make someone appear so sad. At times, he seemed to be somewhere else for a moment or two.

He always sat with his staff lying nearby. His staff was the most beautiful hand carved piece of wood that Carol had ever seen. One night, during an exceptionally bright moon, she was able to get a better look at the ornate details carved into the wood. Studying it, she noticed that near the bottom of the stick there was an area that looked like it had been chewed on, perhaps by a dog.

As Carol continued to stare at it, she felt the queerest shivering sensation making its way up her back and neck and continuing over the top of her head. Tearing her eyes quickly away from the staff, Carol worked hard to get herself to focus on telling the story.

After finishing for the night, Carol's thoughts returned to the staff, _I wonder why he never had a staff as beautiful as this one repaired? Perhaps he wanted to wait until we arrived in America to have it fixed_.

Each night, if he was not in his usual place when Carol came to tell her story, she would sit chatting with the others that had come, while she waited for him to arrive. Carol knew when he was near, because she could hear the tapping of his staff.

Sometimes, while telling her story, she would notice small changes in his expression. He would grimace at the parts in the stories that mentioned someone who had failed to escape the fate of being pulled into the shadows and never seen again. Once, Carol thought she saw him begin to weep, but still, he came every night without fail.

Enjoying the attention, but not able to come up with a compelling story of her own one night, Carol chose to tell the same story that the strange little man at the campsite had told, but with a few added twists of her own.

As Carol continued with the story, she began to notice changes in the old man's mannerisms and expressions. It was almost as if he had heard the story before. Carols' thoughts drifted off, _But, how could this be? I haven't told this story before. I'm sure I would have remembered if he had been at the campgrounds while we were there. The only old man I remember being there that looked like him was the strange little man who had told this story or 'warning' as he had called it._

As Carol studied him for a moment, she began to wonder if this might be the same man. He seemed slightly taller, and she thought, favoring the opposite hand. It had been almost a year, and she just could not be sure.

At this point, Carol suddenly realized that everyone was staring at her. She was so lost in thought staring at the old man, that she hadn't realized that she had stopped talking.

While Carol silently gazed in the direction of the old man, the other passengers first looked towards her, then over in his direction, in an attempt to ascertain what she found so engrossing over there.

Carol tried to shake the odd feeling that she got from him, that somehow, somewhere; he too had heard a story like this one. Perhaps he heard it while he was a child sitting by a campfire, while the elders told ghost and goblin stories designed to strike terror into the hearts of the other campers. Carol had no way of knowing. Dismissing the thought, she returned to telling her story.

This night continued to be different in many ways. Most nights, when the passengers would gather to hear the story that Carol had prepared for them, some would sit and listen with only moments of pretend terror on their faces. Afterwards, the listeners would come up to her and comment on what a fine story they thought she had told.

However, this evening the fear on their faces seemed real. At the end of the story, no one said a word. Instead, they all rose from their seats and quietly walked towards the hatchway leading to the passenger area.

Carol could not help but notice that some of the passengers were looking around, while they walked to their rooms. As if they were looking for anything that might be hiding under a tarp or behind a crate, waiting for an opportunity to grab them and drag them into the shadows. There was something about the story told about the creatures that hid under your bed that seemed to scare everyone more than any other type of demon or monster story.

Oddly enough, her story had succeeded in scaring even her again. Walking across the deck towards her cabin, Carol found herself looking into the dark crevasses for the same hideous creatures, as well. Just before stepping through the hatchway, she paused to look back to where the old man chose to sit each night. Everyone had left to turn in, except for him.

He remained motionless on his crate with his hand held tightly against his chest. Carol thought about walking back over to check on him, until she saw his head droop down and his shoulders start to shake, as he began to weep. Carol decided to give him some privacy. _Mom had mentioned that men don't like it when they are caught crying._ Instead, Carol continued on her way to the cabin for the night.

Tonight, Carol was glad the stairs she had to walk down to get to the lower level, were open slats. This way, she was able to check if anything might be hiding underneath them.

Before climbing up onto her bunk, Carol kissed her parent's goodnight. Then, she made sure to say an extra prayer for the old man.

She really did like having her bed as far off the floor as possible, especially when she would scare herself with one of her own stories. Carol also liked gazing out the porthole onto the water when sleep eluded her.

Each night, after the retelling of the campfire story, while lying in her bunk and gazing out the porthole, Carol couldn't help noticing that even after her parents and the other passengers had turned out their lights, there was still one light which continued to burn throughout the night. When Carol woke the next day, she would see the same light still reflecting off the water in the early morning fog.

Curious, Carol stopped a crew member to find out who was staying in the cabin above theirs. After finding out that it was the same old man who came out to hear her stories each night, Carol decided to ask him, the next time she saw him, why he left his light burning until the early morning, so often.

Could my stories be to blame?

With the morning fog lifting, Carol decided to venture outside to see if she might be able to spot any more dolphins leaping out of the water. Once up on the main deck, she came across the old man already watching, as the dolphins played in the bow wake.

Quietly approaching, Carol stood off to the side a little, where she figured he would take notice of her, but far enough away in case he didn't want any company.

Turning slightly, he looked at Carol. He then turned back toward the water without saying a word.

Carol could not seem to shake the strange feeling of disquiet she felt when his eyes met hers.

"Good morning?" was the only thing Carol could think to say. However, the greeting came out as more of a question.

Glancing again toward Carol, with what appeared to be a forced smile, he returned the greeting.

"You're staying just above our cabin," Carol commented, as she stepped up on a box to peer over the railing. "I see your light shining on the water at night and sometimes into the next day," she explained.

Carol sensed the old man was wondering how she knew it was his cabin. Carol ventured on to answer him. "I asked one of the crew, who was staying above our cabin."

"Yes, that is my room," he replied meekly, while continuing to stare off into the distance.

"You come every night to listen to the stories that I tell for everyone," Carol continued, while fidgeting with a rope hanging to the right of her. "I hope it's not my stories that have you keeping your light on so late into the night."

He remained silent, as he stared at her with his pale eyes.

Until now, Carol hadn't been close enough to notice that they were almost a lifeless shade of grey. They gave her the strangest feeling of despair, like that of a lost soul or someone who had lost interest in life itself.

Laughing softly he reassured Carol that it was not her stories that kept his light burning into the night. He had trouble sleeping. "The night holds things far worse than you can imagine. I keep my light burning bright, in order to keep guard. I often fall asleep just before dawn, leaving my light to stand vigil alone."

This last statement left Carol quite confused and feeling uneasy. She did not know if he was trying to give her ideas for her stories or if he honestly feared the dark that much. There seemed to be something so sad about this odd little man. The laugh he had, while talking with her, sounded hollow and forced.

"Where did you get the idea for the story you told a few of nights ago? Have you ever really seen one of these creatures?" he queried, without looking away from the water.

"They're not real, you know. I had just heard a story about them once," Carol explained, not looking away from the water herself. She wasn't sure who she was trying to convince.

At that, he turned and looked down at Carol with a piercing stare, filled with pain and thinly veiled terror. Swallowing hard, Carol looked up at him, as the same cold shiver that she felt the first time she stared at the carvings on his staff, crawled across her skin.

In an attempt to break the tension, Carol asked one more time if he felt okay. She told him that they would reach the end soon.

"Sooner than you think, Young Miss," he replied, while taking in a deep labored breath. "...sooner than you think."

This made Carol feel very peculiar. In an effort to shake it off, she tried to assure him, "When we reach the new land, it will be okay."

He sighed while patting Carol on the head. Speaking just above a whisper, he uttered, "If only that were true; if only that were true..."

As he turned to leave, he stopped and stood for a moment while staring at the deck. Dropping his shoulders slightly lower, he turned halfway back to face Carol. "They are called Syeribus," he said in a low voice, as he looked around.

Carol found herself looking around too. However, she wasn't sure why or for what. After a few seconds passed, Carol asked, "Syeribus?"

"Yes," he replied, "the creatures you speak of in your stories; they are called Syeribus. No one knows where they first came from or how long they have been here. As a boy, I would hear terrible stories about them."

He paused and took a few breaths before continuing, "I always thought that they were stories made up to scare children that did not behave. As far as I can tell, they have been around since the beginning of time. As a boy, the stories would scare me deeply. Each night, without fail, I would check my closet and under my bed. However, after a few years, I stopped believing in them."

The old man raised his hand up and turned it back and forth, as if he were examining it for the first time. Pausing again for a moment, he then lowered his hand back down and continued with his story, "Until one night..." he stammered, as tears welled up in his eyes. "Until one night, I was awoken by screams coming from my younger brother's room. I leapt from my bed and ran into his room to see if he had fallen out of bed and been injured. As I rushed through his bedroom door, all I could see was my brother struggling with something. It looked as if he was trying to pull something out from under his bed. I could hear horrible sounds coming from under the bed, combined with his screams, which echoed in my ears. I reached down to grab for him, but I was too late. By the time, I realized that he had not been trying to pull something out from under the bed, instead, something had been trying to pull him under."

"My brother and I were not the only children to be attacked or taken by Syeribus. Another boy, two houses down from ours was attacked a week before, while playing with his fire truck."

Hearing this, Carol gasped aloud. _Could this man's neighbor be the same old man from our camping trip?_ The thought burned though her mind. Carol stood transfixed, as the old man wiped the tears away. His face had taken on a twisted appearance of anguish.

His entire body trembled, as he continued on, "Diving at the bed, I reached under, making a grab for my brother, only to have something tear into my hand. The pain was more than I could bear, and I had to pull back. Still, I was determined to save him. Reaching under the bed with my other hand, I felt around for my brother. I touched something, grabbed it as tight as I could, and then pulled with all my strength. I tumbled over backwards as I pulled out this!" He held the ornately carved staff up in the air. Placing it back down on the deck, he steadied himself to keep from falling.

"I shoved the stick back under the bed and began thrashing around with it. I could hear the wind rushing past me. Pulling the stick back out from under the bed, in order to take a look, I realized that everything had gone completely silent. My hand was torn and bleeding, and the pain was more than I could bear. Exhausted, I guess I passed out."

Carol had not realized that she was gripping the hand rail so tight until her hands began to ache. Carol continued to watch his face, become more and more twisted as he continued with his story.

"I awoke the next day, in my bed, with my hand bandaged. Sitting up too quickly, I fell back onto the bed. I lay still, as I watched the walls in my room spinning around. They say I rambled on about how my brother had been taken by something under the bed. The old ones in our village would whisper, 'Syeribus,' as I would walk past them later in the week. The whole village came together to form search parties. They scoured the woods nearby, trying to find who had taken the boys. Some of the elders seemed to know what had taken him and the other children. Nevertheless, no one would speak of it, and no one ever found any trace of the missing children. My parents moved us to the next village over. Mother was never the same after that. She would sit for hours each day, staring out into the fields, watching for her boy to come home."

The features of his face briefly softened. It had taken on more the look of deep sadness over the loss of his brother. To the point Carol almost believed he was telling a true story, instead of one he made up.

"Seven more children and three entire families disappeared over the next few months. It was rumored that some of the children were runaways and that the families who disappeared during the night had left in fear that whoever was taking the children, might try to take theirs too." After a slight pause, the old man said with a nod, "But I know what really happened."

He stood staring at his staff for a moment, and then once more lifted it up into the air. He then, pointed it at Carol and began speaking again. Carol was only able to make out small bits of what he said, when the ship began blowing its horn as it passed within sight of another ship.

Turning to walk away, he left Carol standing there bewildered, looking after him, as he slowly made his way down the walkway.

He added, while rounding the corner, "You believe they do not exist, that they are no more than a story made up to scare little children. If you only knew, Young Miss, if you only really knew. Remember what I have told you. Your very life could depend on it."

This left Carol feeling confused and more than just a little frightened. _What did he mean by that?_ After watching him disappear around the corner, Carol couldn't help thinking that he was as good a story teller as the old man from the camping trip. _I will have to use parts of his story to make mine as scary as his_.

Unnerved by the images he had painted of horrid little creatures hiding in the shadows, Carol returned to watching the dolphins, in an attempt to shake off the feeling of trepidation they caused.

After their visit up on deck, the old man only came out to hear her stories for two more nights. The weather had changed, bringing with it, menacing clouds that hung low and heavy in the sky. The days were almost as dark as the nights.

As the days went on, the waters grew rougher, tossing the ship as if it were playing with a toy. It was hard to see out the tiny porthole, as the rain, mixing with the sea, poured relentlessly over the ship.

The frightful sounds everyone heard, as the ship creaked and moaned under the stress of the storm, accompanied by the crashing thunder, had most of the passengers very uneasy. Carol took comfort in realizing that she was not the only one scared by the storm.

Three days later, Carol awoke to several people shouting up on deck. Rolling over on her bunk, Carol began to feel ill, thinking that they were in for yet another storm.

After listening a little more closely to the shouts, Carol became excited at the sounding of the ship's horns as they signaled the sighting of land.

Not stopping to ask permission, Carol was up and out the door and running up on deck to look at the new land that promised to bring good times to all.

The sky was filled with the tallest buildings that Carol had ever seen. They reached up into the sky, as if they were trying to touch the sun itself. Carol watched as the other passengers left the ship, to start on their new adventures.

Continuing to wave goodbye to a few of the fellow travelers that Carol had become friends with during her storytelling, she couldn't help noticing that she hadn't seen the old man leave the ship with the others. _He must have gotten off while I was looking away_.

Finally, it was Carol and her family's turn to disembark the ship. Taking a last look around during their departure, Carol noticed the old man's hat and staff, leaning against a stack of crates.

While her parents waited for the luggage to be brought up from the cargo hold, Carol ventured over to inquire from a crew member standing nearby, about the hat and staff.

"He must have left them behind. Everyone on his deck has already departed," the crew member stated with disinterest.

She knew that he was unable to walk without his staff. He must have more than one cane and forgot to grab this one, in his haste to leave the ship, made the most sense _._

_Yes_ , she thought to herself, _he did seem to always be distracted by something else. This must be what has happened. He will surely return later to collect his forgotten belongings from the lost and found, when he realizes that he has left them behind._

"What happens to things that are left behind by people?"

"We have to toss them out. We don't have any way of getting anything left behind back to anyone," the crew member remarked, while trying to continue with his work.

"May I have that stick?" Carol was surprised to hear herself boldly ask.

The crew member stood looking at her for a while, as if he had never been asked a question like that before.

"I don't see why not," he shrugged, as he picked up another crate.

Carol thanked the crew member for his help, as he handed it over to her. He in turn thanked her, remarking on what a polite young lady she was.

After leaving the ship, they quickly settled down in a one bedroom flat. _I must learn to call them apartments now_ , Carol reminded herself.

In the meantime, Carol had continued telling her stories to a group of neighbors living in the same apartment block. One tall man, a tailor by trade, commented on her ability to tell such detailed stories. "You are like a weaver of fine cloth with the weaving of your tales," he complimented Carol.

Dad promised that this small apartment would only be for a short time, until he received a couple of paychecks from his new job.

Unfortunately, this proved to be all too true. It was only two short months later, when Carol found herself moving again and again, almost always West. Work even in the land of milk and honey became harder to find.

Finally, making it all the way to California, Carol found herself settling down in a small Desert town. Carol grimaced as she looked around for the first time. The town was as opposite as you could get from her home in England. To help keep from becoming home sick, Carol wasted little time in looking for new friends. In short order, Carol had found several other children also interested in weaving tales of adventure.

With winter approaching, Carol found herself wondering what it would be like to spend Christmas in the desert, as she looked out across the empty fields.

Carol knew, even though her father was working, and her mother was earning a little from her baking, there was not much extra money. Still, Carol was sure that they would not have to move again for a while, and that this was going to be the best Christmas ever.

Determined to make his family's Christmas as good as he could, Carol's father issued instructions to the two women in his life, to stay out of the garage while he worked on a surprise for them. He made sure to work on his secret project while Carol was in school and his wife was out making deliveries of her pies and cakes. This way he knew they would not be able to peek.

After working on the surprise for a week, after dinner one evening, he called his family outside. It was just after dark. The air was crisp, and the ground had just been dusted with a light layer of snow, which glistened and sparkling in the moonlight.

"Oh, my, it is beautiful out tonight," Carol's mother remarked, while looking around. "It hardly ever snows here. This is such a rare treat. Okay, you two, go back in the house. It's too chilly to be out here," she said, while trying to usher her family back inside.

"Wait, close your eyes. Both of you," Carol's father said, grinning from ear to ear.

Carol and her mother squirmed with anticipation. Carol wondered if her mother was also finding it difficult not to peek through her fingers. Carol tried hard to guess what the surprise was going to be, but none of her guesses fit in with the sound of her father running into the house.

"The suspense is killing me," Carol whispered.

After what seemed like all night, finally, she heard him coming back out, panting, and quite out of breath.

"Okay, open your eyes!" he exclaimed.

"Oh, my," Carol and her mother both said in awe, as they looked at the beautiful strings of lights hanging around the top of the roof.

"Where did you get those?" Carol's mother asked, while sternly looking at him.

"I found them thrown out by someone, and I brought them home. I was able to fix most of the strands. They looked like mice had been chewing on them all summer."

"They're beautiful. Are they safe?" she asked. "And how on earth did you get them up there? You could have broken your neck."

"You are welcome, and I love you too, Honey," he replied, hugging them both.

"We need to go back inside, before we catch our death of a cold," Carol's mother warned.

_Mom always was the sensible one,_ Carol thought as she and her father were ushered back inside the house.

Running back over to the front window, Carol looked out at the colors as they reflected off the snow. _The colors are so beautiful_ , she thought to herself.

Carol had no way of knowing, that sadly, this was the last Christmas they were to spend together, as a family.

### Chapter 4: Starting Over

With the packing almost finished, Carol didn't have the same feeling of; _Here we go, moving again_. She was sure that her mother felt the same way, when she would catch her looking out the front window, which was about the time Dad would have normally come home from work. They could not wait to leave this place. The house felt so empty now that Dad was gone. None of this felt real to either of them.

It was just a few weeks after Christmas, when the accident had happened. Carol's mother had wanted her husband to wait for the ice on the roof to melt, so that it wouldn't be so slippery. Carol guessed that her dad didn't want to get caught being the last one on the block to take down their Christmas lights, so he had gone up to take them down, before leaving for work one day. Carol wished that he would have waited, maybe then he would not have fallen, maybe... then...

_Oh, how I have come to dislike that word: maybe. Nothing good ever happened when the sentence contained the word maybe,_ Carol lamented to herself.

Before he died, he had tried to keep everyone's spirits up by saying that everything would be alright soon. This time, he was wrong. It wasn't going to be okay. He was gone, and he wasn't coming back. For now; however, they would have to do the best they could.

At least one good thing came from her mother taking on all of those baking jobs, the way that she did. One of her best customers took a liking to her and offered her a job in one of her businesses, in a small town up state. Carol knew that they were both ready to leave this time, because there was nothing left for them here.

***

Taking one last look around her now almost empty room, Carol wondered what was going to happen to them now. _My mother is going to need me to be brave now; although, I don't know how I'm going to accomplish that._ Carol's heart ached so much, but for her mother, she would do anything.

Picking up her father's coat, off of the last box left in her room, Carol buried her face in it. While leaning against the wall, she slowly slid down to the floor and softly cried. Her thoughts faded back to when she had first gotten his coat as a hand-me-down; she was so happy and proud to wear it. Finally, wiping her eyes on one of the coat sleeves, Carol rose back up and gathered up the last box.

Taking one last look around the now empty room, while taking in a shaky breath, Carol tried hard to put on a happy face for her mother, but she could barely muster a broken smile.

With trembling hands, Carol draped her father's coat over her shoulders. Whenever she put it on, Carol could still feel his arms around her. "Well, I guess I had better take this last box downstairs. Mom will most likely be ready to go by now," Carol sighed, as she made her way outside.

Arriving outside, Carol watched as her mother stood with her mouth set in a half-twisted grimace, staring at the contents of the trailer. Carol could tell that she was concentrating on something important.

Setting the box down and stepping over the bed frame from her room, Carol walked over to get a closer look at what the problem might be.

Everything was packed either in the trailer or in the car, except for the box that she had just carried out. Carol had wanted to save it for last, so she could unpack it first.

The dressers that they had used belonged to the owner of the house, so they would be left behind. This had freed up room for the rest of their things. Carol could see that the doors of the trailer had plenty of room to close. At this point, she gave up trying to guess what the problem was, and was about to ask.

Not noticing Carol standing next to her, her mother continued to grumble aloud to herself, "How could I have just packed two bedrooms, plus a living room and a kitchen, into the back of this trailer, and not be able to get this bed frame in there?"

Finally, noticing Carol standing next to her, "Well, Little Lady, I don't see any way of getting this in there," she said with a puzzled expression.

Carols' eyes went directly to the bed frame lying next to her on the ground. Her attention was snapped back into focus, by the sound of her mother's voice, as she muttered under her breath, "Unless I take out this box and move that over there..."

Carol quickly grabbed her mother's arm before she could start moving things around. "You know, Mom, I don't need the bed frame. All I really need is my mattress and box spring and they are already in the trailer! You did say that you wanted to get on the road by eight, so we would not need to stop for the night, before arriving at our new house."

Carol stood, holding her breath, as she silently waited, hoping that her mother wouldn't try to get the bed frame into the trailer. _If we left it behind, then the bed would have to sit on the floor, and there would be no way for anything to hide under it._ Carol thought to herself.

Sensing that this was the case, her mother decided that it would be all right. While her mother pulled the trailer doors closed and placed a lock on them, Carol went over to say goodbye to her friends.

Pretending to be brave, they all hugged each other and promised to write, and to continue weaving their stories. Carol had gone through this same ordeal many times, with her family's constant moving, but she did not really believe that anyone would actually write. She hoped; however, that they would all continue weaving their tales, because that is the only thing that remained from her many lost friendships.

Closing the car door, Carol reflected scornfully to herself, _And now, I am alone again. Not much has changed in my life. It will be just my imagination and me, to make up adventures for now, since nothing exciting ever actually happens to me in the real world._

Carol watched, as the desert and tumbleweeds faded out of sight. She pulled her father's coat around her and slowly drifted off to sleep.

Waking a few hours later, Carol rubbed her eyes and looked out the side window to see if she could tell where they were now. Carol stared wide-eyed as the valley floor spilled out in every direction, covered with an array of flowers and other vibrant colors.

"Oh my," Carol gasped.

"Do you like it?" her mother asked, smiling back at her.

"Oh yes!"

_Wouldn't it be great if we could live in a_ _place like this someday_? Carol wondered, while hanging her head out the window.

"Surprise! This is the place that I have come to start my new job. I know it has been a long time since I've worked outside the home, more than just part time, but I'm sure we'll be able to make it here."

Arriving in town, Carol watched as the shopkeepers kept busy sweeping the wooden steps and walkways in front of their stores. Most stopped what they were doing, to look up and see who was passing by. They then each gave a small wave, as Carol and her mother drove past, before returning to their duties.

"Is it much farther?" Carol asked, hardly able to stand the suspense.

"Only another mile or two, dear, now turn back around, so you can help me look for our new house."

After carefully following the directions they were given, they at last, pulled into the long curved driveway of their new home.

Grimacing, Carol couldn't help thinking that the house looked a little more run down than she had feared. Carol climbed out of the front seat, and wasted no time in heading off to go look it over.

The house had been rented sight unseen and as a fixer upper, so there was no way of knowing what kind of condition it would be in when they arrived. The arrangements had been made through a friend of the lady that she had baked for. They had said that no one had lived in it for quite some time, and the owners of the house were more than happy to have someone fix it up for them in exchange for rent. After seeing the outside, Carol could see why. "This needs a lot of work," Carol moaned.

Walking over to the front door, Carol reached up to try the doorknob and found it locked tight.

"Do you have a key, Mom?" Carol asked, almost pleading.

"No, they said that since no one had lived here for so long that it wouldn't be locked. Let's try some of the windows, to see if we can find one unlocked," Carol heard her mother call to her, as she headed up to the front windows, to have a look inside.

It looked, as far as Carol could see through the right front window, no worse than some of the other places that they had lived in before. In addition, since they were getting a few months free rent for fixing it up for the owner, she didn't feel that they had any room to complain about the condition. At least the house had working plumbing and no holes in the roof, so it wouldn't leak when it rained. After peering inside through some very dirty windows, they continued on their way to different sides of the house to look for a way inside.

"This one isn't locked," Carol could hear her mother call over to her, from the side of the house. "Come over here, and I'll lift you in, so you can unlock the front door."

"Okay, Mom, I am coming," Carol replied, as she tried to unhook her shirt from a branch that she had gotten caught on. Not wanting to make her way back through the same thick weeds that she had just come through, Carol decided to try to go around the other way.

Walking around to the back of the house, Carol noticed another door. _What the heck. I might as well try this one as long as I'm already back here_ , she thought to herself. Brushing away a spider web that reached from the side window all the way to the backdoor, Carol grasped the knob and gave it a jiggle.

"Yes!" Carol cheered, as the door creaked open. Carefully stepping inside, she couldn't help thinking what a mess this place was, as she made her way past the window where her mother was waiting. "Meet me at the front door." Not waiting for a response, she met her at the front door and let her in.

"Don't touch anything until I check it out first," her mother warned, while surveying the damage. "First things first, we need somewhere to put everything, until we can get this place more livable," she added.

The house had two bedrooms off the back of the house, separated by one bathroom, and a small kitchen, off to the left of the living room.

"Alright, back to work with you. I can save five dollars, if I can get the trailer turned in by 9:00 a.m. tomorrow, so let's go," her mother urged, as she turned to leave the house.

"Alright, Mom, I'm coming," Carol moaned.

After finding no suitable place for their things inside the house, it was decided to unpack everything into the garage. After clearing the spider webs and a quick sweep, the unpacking did not take long, since virtually everything had to be sold to pay for the move here.

"Okay," her mother nodded, after having Carol help her put the last of the large boxes in the garage, "that about does it, out here. We'll be able to return the trailer in the morning, and get five dollars back. Let's get inside and see what we have going on in there. We need to get just a couple of things done today, like a spot in the kitchen, where we can fix something to eat and a place to sleep."

"If I remember right, there is a lot of trash and a couple of old worn-out pieces of furniture scattered throughout the rooms. Even the bathroom was full of trash," she added.

"First, let's take another look at the rooms and decide which one is going to be yours and which one will be mine. Since there is only one bathroom, and it's in the hallway, there isn't a clear master bedroom."

"Okay!" Carol yelled over her shoulder, as she sprinted for the house. She wanted to get her first real look at the bedrooms before her mother could get there. Dodging the couch that had been left in the middle of the living room, Carol reached the bedroom on the left of the house, closest to the garage. Looking at it quickly, she turned to check the one on the right.

Carol was surprised to hear her mother announce, from inside the other room, "This one's mine. It has the biggest closet, and I called it first."

"I know you couldn't have gotten past me, without me seeing you. How did you get in here so fast?"

Carol watched as her mother just stood in the middle of the room, doing a silly little victory dance, while pointing to the open window behind her.

"You climbed in the window? That's not fair!" Carol protested.

"Okay, let's see about that kitchen, shall we?"

Following her mother out of the room, Carol continued to complain for a couple of minutes, but finally admitted that she had been beaten.

It would take more daylight than they had left, to get the kitchen completely ready. Instead, it was decided that they would only work to clear a large enough section to be able to bring a few groceries in. After that, it was time to make a trip to the local market, to stock up on a few things for the kitchen.

"Okay, I'm going to wash up, and then while you wash, I'll change into some clean clothes."

"Okay, Mom," Carol replied, as she put the bucket and rag that she had been using, in the corner.

While cleaning up in the bathroom, Carol's attention was drawn down to under the sink where she thought she could hear strange scratching sounds coming from behind the wall. Stooping down to take a look, Carol was able to see only the smallest of holes, near the baseboards.

"Mom, I think you should come in here and listen to this. I think there's something in the wall, under the sink." Leaning in a little closer, Carol listened more intently for anymore sounds, but didn't hear anything else.

She stood up when her mother came in to listen, Carol was disappointed when no other sounds were heard coming from under the sink.

"I'm sure it's just the plumbing," her mother offered, as she turned to walk away, while jingling her keys, which meant that she was getting in the car. If Carol wanted to go with her, she had better hurry.

Only moments after she turned to walk away, the noises returned. This time it was a little further up the wall. Picking up a piece of wood off the floor, Carol reached over, and slowly began poking at the wall.

Just as she was about to poke at the hole again, to see if she could make it a little bigger and get a better look at whatever was in there, Carol heard the car horn blasting, which meant, _Get in the car now!_

Dropping the piece of wood, Carol was up and out the front door. Running up to the car, Carol said "I think we might have a mouse or something living in the wall of the bathroom. Maybe, we need to pick up some traps while we're at the store."

"What makes you think we have mice?" her mother asked.

"I could have sworn I saw the little hand of a mouse or a rat. I'm sure that I heard something scratching behind the wall, and it didn't sound like any plumbing I've ever heard!" Carol remarked, after climbing into the front seat.

Finished with the shopping, Carol helped her mother load the groceries into the back of the car. Settling back into the front seat, Carol's thoughts returned to the sounds that she had heard, behind the wall in the bathroom. This combined with the apprehension that she felt about starting over somewhere new, without her father, had Carol feeling unsure about what the future would bring.

***

Carol smiled a bittersweet smile, as her thoughts wandered back to the last Christmas they had spent together as a family, just before her dad's accident. She remembered hearing her mom start to cry, while her dad tried to comfort her. Carol could hear him telling her he would find a way to get something for their daughter. "I promise I will find a way, so that she will not think she had done something wrong and Santa had passed her by."

Carol had long since stopped believing in Santa Claus, but didn't want to tell them. That would spoil the fun they would have, pretending that Santa had brought her a gift.

Deciding to take matters into her own hands, Carol came up with what she thought was the perfect plan. The next day was Christmas Eve. Not wanting to spoil her surprise, Carol had them sit down in the living room, and told them both to close their eyes. After dividing up what was left of her coloring sticks, she placed some paper and the crayons, in front of them.

"Okay, open your eyes," she announced with all seriousness.

The puzzled look on their faces was priceless. Not wanting to hold them in suspense any longer, Carol told them they would have to go to different parts of the room, so everyone could draw pictures for each other. They were then to wrap them in paper, and place them under the tree for tomorrow.

Carol explained that Santa just couldn't make it this year, and hoped that they were not too disappointed. At first it made them cry a little, but after hugging, everyone sang the night away.

It very rarely snowed there, mostly just frost and some ice, but that night, it had snowed about four inches. Carol was very excited, seeing the snow on the ground on Christmas day. Running outside, she scooped some of it up and tossed it in the air. Then, with her mom's help, they added some colored sugar water and made snow cones for breakfast. After eating the treats it was time to open the pictures. Oh, what a wonderful time that was.

How simple life was then, how different it had become.

***

Arriving at home, Carol went to the backseat to help carry their groceries into the house. Picking up the last small bag, she wandered into the house to put it in the kitchen.

Wanting to busy herself with something other than feeling sad, "Mom, do you think it would be okay to go explore the house before it gets too dark, since the electricity won't be turned on until tomorrow?"

"I think that would be okay; I can put this away."

Looking around, Carol considered which room to check out first. _I might as well start at the_ _front of the house,_ she thought, as she carefully made her way into the living room.

The mess in here was worse than she had remembered it. The trash and holes in the walls would take a lot more work to clean up and fix, than Carol had first imagined.

Although the room was small, it had two nice sized windows, both facing out onto the front yard. The floor was a mix of bare wood and half-peeled tiles. Carol couldn't help but wonder why anyone would want to cover a wood floor with tile.

Sitting in the middle of the living room was one of the ugliest couches that she had ever seen. Carol doubted, even when it was new, that the old thing had looked much better. The couch was a faded, sea-foam green and chartreuse color, with flowers scattered throughout the pattern. The back of the couch was lower than on most couches that Carol had seen before. Maybe it was because it was missing the back cushions. The back and both sides of the couch looked like something had torn it to pieces from the inside out.

Most of the walls had several holes scattered across them, anywhere from the size of a dime to the size of a dinner plate. Studying some of the holes, Carol wondered why the people living here before her would have done such a thing.

On closer inspection, Carol noticed that some of the holes looked as if they had been pushed into the wall, while other smaller holes looked like they had been pushed from the inside out. Carol was puzzled as to how that could have possibly happened.

"Someone must have been very angry," Carol whispered, while continuing to look them over.

Not able to curtail her curiosity any longer, Carol proceeded to poke one of her fingers into a small hole that was about shoulder height. This resulted in nothing more than getting her finger stuck. Pulling on it, to get it out of the wall, had little effect.

Carol's curiosity was rapidly being replaced with the fear of something hiding in the walls. The thought that whatever she heard behind the walls, in the bathroom, was now holding onto her finger was more than she could handle.

Placing her other hand against the wall, and then placing a foot firmly on the wall, as high up as she could get it while still keeping her balance, Carol drew in a deep breath. Then, exhaling, gave it one last attempt to free herself. It was a good thing that the edge of the couch was close enough to stop her fall as her finger popped out of the wall, or she was sure she would have ended up on the floor.

Her curiosity restored, with the release of her finger, Carol again walked over to investigate the hole. On closer inspection, it now looked like it had been made from the inside out. "Okay, so that's how they made the other small holes look like they were pushed from the inside out. Why, would anyone want to do that more than once?"

Losing interest in the holes altogether, Carol decided to investigate the rest of the house.

Turning to make her way into the next room, Carol was stopped short, by what appeared to be movement out of the corner of her eye. Whirling back around to face the couch again, Carol scanned the room, to see if she had actually seen something moving behind her. There, next to the couch, stood a large grey and white cat, with most of its fur missing.

The cat had only a few small patches of fur still hanging onto its head and back. The poor animal had just climbed out of a hole that had been ripped in the back of the sofa. Carol thought, _What an odd-looking cat._ However, being the adventurous type that she is, Carol decided to try and pet it anyway.

"Don't touch that cat!" her mother yelled.

Startled, Carol stopped short of reaching down to pet it. "What's wrong with it, that it has so little hair?" Carol asked, as she watched her mother shoo the cat out the door.

"Sometimes, cats get mange, and most of their fur falls out. You should never try to touch any animal that looks like that!" she almost scolded her daughter.

After losing interest in the cat, since she wasn't allowed to pet or pick it up, Carol's investigations of the house resumed.

Deciding to return to the bathroom, where she had first heard the strange noises in the wall, Carol stood viewing the clutter in front of her. She was not sure that any amount of work could ever clean up this much mess. Opening the shower curtain revealed a bathtub, that she was sure had not been cleaned in a very long time. It was as full of trash and garbage as the rest of the house.

Mystified, Carol continued to wonder how people could live like this. _Even though we never had much, our home was always clean._

Returning to the living room, Carol's attention was drawn back to one of the holes in the wall, by what sounded like muffled sounds coming from inside the wall.

"Mom! Mom! Come over here and listen to this. It's the same kind of sounds that I was hearing from behind the wall, under the bathroom sink," Carol called out, as she leaned in closer to press her ear against the wall.

"Get away from there. If it's a mouse or something bigger, it might reach out and bite you!" her mother warned.

"It's probably just mice, Mom," Carol moaned in protest, not wanting to move away from where she was listening.

"Come away from there before something reaches out and bites you!" she repeated, while grabbing Carol by the shoulder.

Carol's high-pitched scream echoed through the empty room, "E-E-E-E-E-E!"

"Maybe, we need to have someone come out to give it a look see, just to make sure," Carol heard her mother say, as she walked out of the room still laughing at her.

Stepping just out of biting range, Carol stood for a couple more minutes, staring at the wall, straining to hear anymore sounds.

Shortly after her mother left the room, the sounds returned, and Carol's imagination was not far behind. Soon, she was hearing strange noises and low muffled voices, _Voices?_ _There must be goblins or little creatures in there,_ Carol thought, since she could not understand any of what she heard.

Looking around and not seeing her mother anywhere, Carol wondered, _What harm can come from trying to peer into one of the larger holes?_ Starting to lean towards the wall, Carol stopped, as her mother called for her to come get the sandwich that she had just finished preparing for them.

Had Carol stayed in the room, she would have seen tiny claw like fingers and red eyes glowing back at her from inside the walls. The secretive little creature, vanished back into the darkness of the wall as quickly as it had appeared in the hole that Carol was about to look into.

Arriving in the kitchen, Carol picked up her sandwich, and then turned to follow her mother outside. With the car parked under the shade of an oak tree, the hood of the car made a perfect place to sit and eat lunch.

Reaching over to ruffle the top of her daughter's head, "It won't be so bad here," she promised. "Just a little elbow grease and the place will be as good as new. Maybe, we can plant a few flowers over there, under the front windows."

Carol looked over at the place under the windows that she mentioned. It was filled with dead weeds and grass. _Oh no_ , Carol grimaced. Although she was sure that under the windows would look quite nice with flowers, it only meant more work for her.

"Which room do you think we should try to fix up first?"

"Well, I think we should hurry and clean one of the bedrooms, so we can bring in one of the mattresses and have a place to sleep tonight."

Looking surprised at her daughter for coming up with such a sensible choice, Carol's mother quickly agreed. Then, swallowing the last bite of her sandwich, "First one in the house gets to choose which bedroom we do first," she challenged.

Suspecting that she might try to pull a fast one, again, Carol had already slid off the hood of the car and was well on her way to her room, just narrowly making it through the front door ahead of her mother.

After surveying the amount of work it would take to be able to bring a mattress into Carol's room, it was decided to work on her mother's room instead. Finished just before dark, a clean set of sheets were put on the mattress that had been placed in the middle of the floor.

"Just think of this as a camping trip without the bugs," Carol heard her mother say, as the flashlight was turned off.

Carol's thoughts faded back to the warning the old man had told that last night camping, as she made sure her feet were tucked in under the covers.

It was just after dawn when the sun came pouring through the window, landing right in her mother's eyes.

"Oh, my..." she grumbled, while putting her hand up to cover her eyes against the sunlight. "We will have to do something about that today," Carol's mother groaned, as she rolled out of bed and onto her knees.

Dressing quickly, she said "Okay, Little Lady, let's take a good look at the house, in the daylight, and see which of the rooms is in need of the most work."

"Let me have the notebook, Mom. I'll take notes while we look around."

Finished, Carol joined her mother on the rickety swing on the front porch, to review the notes that she had written, while surveying each room.

"Okay, my bedroom is already in fairly good shape. The walls only need paint, since there are no holes in them. The floor is in pretty good shape too, except for needing a good sanding and staining. I think I'll start on the bathroom. I think it would be best if you got started in your bedroom. It's going to need a lot of work, clearing it out and patching up holes, before we can even think about painting."

Carol was relieved about this, since she really didn't want to clean the bathroom after what she had seen in the tub. Not to mention, the noises that she heard under the sink that had given her the willies.

Getting up to grab some bags for the trash and some cleaning supplies, they headed off to tackle their separate projects. Even though they were starting over again, Carol did not feel so bad about it this time.

### Chapter 5: The Red-Headed Boy

Hearing the news about a new family moving into the abandoned house, a few houses up from his, had Peter's curiosity piqued.

"I will have to go look for myself. I cannot believe anyone would move into this old broken down place," Peter said aloud, as he started up the driveway.

Brushing his thick red hair out of his eyes, Peter walked up to the front door, which was open. A little too quietly at first, he knocked on the doorframe. Peter knocked again, a little harder this time. With no response to his second attempt, Peter stretched his neck as far as he could, to look inside. _I think it will be okay to look in, as long as I keep my feet outside the house_ , he reasoned to himself, as he listened for any sounds. Still not hearing a reply, Peter tiptoed inside.

"Well, the front door is wide open, and if they did not want company they surely would shut and locked the door," Peter said under his breath. "Hello, hello? Is there anyone in here?" Peter's voice echoed through the mostly empty house.

Hearing what seemed to be someone calling out _hello_ , Carol's mother came out of the bathroom that she had been cleaning, to see if it was her imagination.

With her mother headed for the living room, Carol decided to follow her.

Carol and her mother stood looking at the red-headed boy who was now in the middle of the room.

"I knocked, and when no one answered, I thought it would be okay to come on in and see if someone was here, since the front door was wide open," Peter said uneasily.

"Don't worry; it's perfectly alright," Carol's mother replied, still smiling. "I'm Sarah Darnell. You can call me Mrs. D."

Holding out his hand, he introduced himself to them as Peter Connor. "I live six houses up on the same side of the street. My house is the blue one with the white trim." He then offered to help, if they needed it.

Before Carol could say 'No,' her mother had already thanked him, while smiling over at her daughter.

Carol could hear her mother now, ' _Oh look, a new friend already_.'

Carol still had a bunch of trash to clear out of her bedroom, and she turned to leave, without a saying a word. Her mother had already returned to the bathroom to finish prepping the walls for plaster and paint.

Peter was left standing alone in the living room. After a slight hesitation, he decided to follow Carol into the back of the house. Peter waited just outside the bedroom doorway for Carol to notice that he had followed her to her room.

Picking up a bucket and cloth, Carol walked over to the large window in her room. By turning her back to him, she could look like she was completely uninterested in him being there, and at the same time, she could watch him in the reflection of the window. Moreover, Carol wanted to be able to see outside and keep an eye on things out there, in case any more 'new friends' decided to show up. It was a triple win for her.

Carol was not sure if he could see her looking back at him. She was both surprised and annoyed that her silent treatment had not detoured this boy in the least. She continued to watch him, as he stepped into the room, grabbed a large bag, and started to pick up some of the trash lying around on the floor.

"You know, no one has lived here for a very long time," Peter began, as he continued to gather up the junk that was everywhere. It was so thick in places that she could not even see the floor.

Carol's curiosity was starting to get the better of her. She really did want to know what type of people could live like this and why they left the house the way they did.

Unfazed by Carol's continued silence, Peter carried on, "No one knows where they went. The whole family just up and left in the middle of the night, without saying a word to anyone. The neighbors on both sides said that they could hear Steve's mom and dad screaming and that it sounded like they were throwing things. Then, there was just silence. The next day, some of us came over here to see if everything was okay or not, and to check on Steve. We figured that they must have had a big fight with the way that the house looked."

Carol turned and glared at him. _So, I'm supposed to know who that is?_

"He was the boy who lived here with his parents, before you and your mom moved in," Peter explained. "We assumed that they all must have left during the night. When we came over the next day, we looked everywhere in the house and the surrounding neighborhood, but we couldn't find any sign of anyone. We thought it was strange that they hadn't mentioned that they were going to move or anything. They left most all of their things behind, except for a few clothes. We could not believe the mess in here when we came in to have a look around. There were holes knocked in all the walls and even the beds were turned upside down! It was a big mess with everything torn out of the cabinets and closets."

Peter paused only long enough to take a dramatic breath and to see if Carol was still pretending not to listen.

"Even the back of the couch had been ripped open. I had never seen someone have a fight as bad as the one they must have had. They were such a nice family too. Steve's mom did not work, and you could always count on her to have fresh baked cookies on Saturday afternoon. Steve's dad traveled a lot. He owned the antique shop downtown and would go to faraway places and bring back exotic treasures that he had found."

"Oh look!" Peter said, holding up a large piece of wood that looked like it had been torn off the side of a packing crate. "This is from the last trip he had gone on." Peter leaned the board against the wall near the door and went back to work, while he continued to talk. "Steve's dad had gone to England on a ship, to pick up some antiques, which had been left to him by some old man that he had once met a long time ago."

Try as she might, Carol could not stop her curiosity from getting the best of her. Carol finally decided to turn around to take a look at the board that he had just leaned against her wall.

Carol gasped under her breath as the bottle and cloth that she was holding in her hand, fell unnoticed to the floor. She stood there, wide-eyed, holding her other hand over her mouth. The printing that she read on the board echoed through her mind. It was the Pasqual, the same ship that she had arrived on. It looked like someone had ripped a chunk out of the lower left-hand corner of the piece of wood.

Carol was sure that the color had drained from her face, as a queer sense of falling washed over her. Regaining her composure, she wheeled back around, quickly picked up the cloth, and went back to what she was doing.

Peter continued to carry on, not missing a beat, but Carol somehow knew he was beginning to suspect that he had caught her attention after all.

Almost finished picking up most of the trash on the floor, it was time to take on the daunting task of clearing the spider webs that seemed to be everywhere.

"I don't think I have ever seen so many in a house before." Peter considered, for a moment, "Where do you suppose all the spiders are? I see plenty of webs but no spiders."

The same question, along with about a hundred others, crisscrossed through Carol's thoughts. She could not imagine anyone fighting the way that Peter had described. She had read about fight scenes, like the one he described, in adventure books, but had never really seen or heard of one in real-life.

Even though she had already decided not to like this red-headed boy, he was starting to grow on her.

Peter stopped what he was doing, to look into one of the holes in the wall. Seeing this, Carol stopped to watch him for a moment. Returning to work was becoming increasingly difficult.

"Wow! Do you hear that?" Peter asked, pressing his ear against the wall. "I think I can hear scratching sounds coming from inside the walls."

No longer able to act disinterested, Carol, at long last, gave in. "I have heard some sounds before, too, coming from inside the holes in the living room and in the bathroom," Carol responded.

"So you do talk," Peter chided at her.

He then returned his attention to listening to the noises he could hear, just below the hole. He tried hard not to start laughing at her, while Carol stood frowning back at him.

"Look at this!" he almost shouted, as he pulled a tuft of grey and white hair from just inside the hole.

Carol chimed in, as she walked over to kneel down next to him, "It's just hair from that old cat that Mom threw out of the house earlier."

Standing up and examining the tuft of hair together, they found it felt coarser than what you might expect to find on a cat.

Peter remarked, as he held the hair in his hand, "I thought cat's usually had really soft fur."

Hearing another sound coming from inside the wall, Peter dropped the hair, and returned his attention to trying to look down into the hole.

"I wish we could see if it was that cat I had seen earlier. Maybe it's just some mice," Carol offered, while leaning over closer to peer into the hole as well.

Drawing in closer to the opening in the wall, they found their senses assaulted with a sour, pungent odor, causing them both to pull back.

Carol was surprised that without hesitation, Peter then began to weave the most wonderful story of monsters and trolls that could be living in the walls, instead of rodents, as they had first guessed. Carol was sure that this was an attempt to frighten her, being a girl and all.

To Peter's amazement, instead of being scared, Carol joined in, weaving an equally terrible tale of dread and terror. Squealing with delight, Carol and Peter continued telling stories throughout the rest of the day, in an attempt to try and scare one another.

Carol was excited to find someone that liked to weave stories like she did. Not only that, but he was pretty good at it too!

A couple of days later, Peter had just left to go home, when Carol heard her mother laughing at something in the kitchen.

"What's so funny in here?" Carol asked, as she rounded the corner of the hallway into the kitchen.

"Well, I was just thinking that it's pretty amusing that you two have become such good friends. When he first came over here, you had wanted me to send him away," she chuckled.

Carol grimaced at her and turned to return to her room. _Mom was right, and there would be no living with her now._

Looking at her room, Carol could not help feeling a sense of satisfaction. It had only taken a week for her and Peter to clean up her room and patch all the holes. The rest of the house was coming along nicely as well. The kitchen and bathroom had been finished, and the owners of the house had even called an exterminator to check the house and lay traps.

"You know, I might as well get started painting in here," Carol stated aloud.

It did not take long to get all the edges and the first coat done. Afterwards, Carol stood back to admire her work.

An hour later, Carol returned to the room. "I think the paint is dry enough to go ahead and put on the second coat," Carol declared to herself, as she reached over to run her finger several times across the wall.

Ready to start, Carol leaned over to dip the roller in the paint. This brought the area where the largest hole had been, right into her line of sight. Stopping to set the roller down, Carol felt the area around where the opening had been patched. There seemed to be a crack, leading to a small hole, in the center of the patch.

Reaching up and touching it, Carol thought she could feel vibrations coming from behind the wall. Carol's imagination wasted no time in conjuring up reasons for this.

Placing both hands on the wall above the opening, Carol leaned in, in order to listen a little closer. The thought that something might still be in there had her full attention.

Carol watched as more of the plaster fell away when she ran her fingers over it a second time. Wincing with pain, Carol quickly withdrew her finger and brought it up to see if she had been bitten. Carol watched, as a small drop of blood appeared on the tip of her finger. That was all it took...

"Mom, Mom!" Carol yelled, as she ran straight into her in the hallway. "Something bit me! Something bit me!"

Thrusting her finger up into her mother's face, Carol stood stamping her feet, while showing her mother her wound.

"It's just a small prick. Are you sure something bit you?"

"Yes!" Carol wailed. "I'll show you. It's that thing hiding in the walls!" While continuing to be dramatic, Carol held up her finger again and repeated, "It bit me!"

Following her mother back into her room, Carol frantically ran over and pointed at the hole in the wall.

"Look, there in the hole, Mom!" Carol almost shrieked. "There's something in there, Mom. It bit me! It bit me!"

"Calm down, you're okay," she softly reassured Carol, while looking at the hole in the wall. "What happened here? How did you do that?" Her tone was stern, while looking at the opening, which was now the size of a coffee cup.

"I didn't do that, Mom. Whatever is in there did it, honest!" Carol continued to plead for her mother to believe her.

Carol's mother, assuming Carol was lying to cover up the fact she had made a hole in the wall, was trying not to get angry with her daughter. However before she could say anything, the sound of more plaster falling to the floor caught their attention. Seeing this, Carol watched her mother pick up one of the sticks that they had brought home for stirring the paint and carefully tap on the wall near the hole. This was followed by hissing and crackling noises coming from somewhere inside the wall.

Suddenly, Carol found herself grabbed by the hand and yanked out of the room, as her mother muttered under her breath and slammed the door behind them. Carol could always tell when her mother was really mad, and she was glad that this time it was not because of anything she had done.

With her mother continuing to hold onto her hand, Carol listened as she yelled at the exterminator on the phone. He had just come by a few days before and Carol's mother was livid that there was already a problem.

"You said the rodent problem was taken care of, and there wasn't anything else in the house."

Carol watched, as her mother continued to fume, waiting for the man to answer.

"Alright, see that you do! Goodbye!"

After hanging up, Carol was half-lead and half-dragged to the bathroom. She knew what was coming next, and she was not going willingly. It was all Carol could do to keep her eyes from popping right out of her head, when her mother poured iodine over her finger. Finally managing to pull her hand free, Carol stood trying not to scream while blowing on her finger.

Carol had not even noticed that her mother had left the room until she returned with a small bag of clothes and her purse. Grabbing a hold of Carol by the hand again, they were out of the house and in the car before Carol could ask where they were going.

"We are going to stay at the motel at the edge of town, while that man checks the house better. I told him I didn't care that today was Saturday, and he had better make sure this time!"

With an apologetic look and a pat on her daughter's leg, she added, "Just think of this as a grand adventure. You will have all kinds of new things to weave tales about now."

With the pain from the puncture and iodine subsiding, Carol decided that her mother was right. Not wanting to waste any time, Carol began to weave an adventure, about her ordeal, in her mind.

"How long are we staying here, Mom?" Carol asked, as they entered the motel room.

"Just for tonight, dear. He promised to take care of it today."

It was right before bedtime when the exterminator called.

Hanging up the phone, Carol listened with great interest to the report as her mother relayed it back to her. "Okay, he said that he found a family of opossums living under the house and it looked like they had just moved in, and they were setting up a nest. He did not think that they were there the first time that he checked the house. He even fixed the hole in the wall at no charge. He said that he likes to have happy customers."

Carol suspected that her mother was giving her so many details in hopes that she would not be afraid to stay in her room alone at night.

"I'll be fine, Mom," Carol reassured her, while trying to look brave, even though inside, she was still very much afraid.

The next day, after arriving back home, Carol hopped out of the car as soon as it was in park, and was off like a shot, headed straight for Peter's house.

Carol's mother knew that her daughter had been up half the night, creating tales and adventures to share with Peter, as soon as they arrived home.

Peter anxiously waited for Carol to catch her breath after arriving at his house, as she was unable to talk at first. He was sure, from her expression, that whatever she had to say would be good.

"Come on, out with it," he begged, while jumping around. Peter was hardly able to wait to find out what had happened, and why they were not at home the previous night.

Normally, running to Peter's house would not have winded Carol so much, but with the combination of excitement and staying up most of the night, Carol was quite worn out. Not able to stand it another minute, Peter grabbed a hold of both of her arms and shook her like a rag doll.

"Okay, okay," Carol conceded.

Letting out a long breath, Carol straightened back up and quickly relayed the events of the night before to Peter. After finishing the story of what had happened, Carol found that her mother was right; they both became very excited about the kinds of tales that they would be able to weave from this.

Suddenly, Carol got the idea to tell Peter the story, or warning, that she had heard around the campfire.

Afterwards, Peter added, "After they pull someone under the bed, they eat them alive or make them zombie slaves!"

***

Two days later, with the room finally finished, it was time for Carol to move out of her mother's room and into her own room. She had not heard anything coming from inside the walls in her room for the last two days. This made Carol feel better, but not completely safe.

With her mother's help, Carol and Peter started to carry everything into the room. With everything set up, it was time to bring in the mattress and box spring.

"Where's the frame?" Peter asked.

"We didn't have room to bring it, so I just figured we would get one later. I guess it slipped my mind," Carol's mother answered back to him, on her way out of the room, while tossing a set of sheets at them.

Later, in the living room, Peter said, in his most sinister voice, while patching the last of the holes, "By sealing these holes we'll be able to trap the vile little creatures, and they will not be able to lay in wait, for you to turn out the light to get into bed, only to grab you by the ankle and drag you to their lair under your bed!"

Carol knew, of course, that was their favorite place to hide, but she did not let that scare her, because they had not yet raised her bed off the floor.

"Now that the house is nearly finished, and all the holes are patched, do you think whatever we keep hearing in the walls can get out?" Carol asked, looking over at him.

Peter contemplated about what to say, while pressing his ear against the wall. Carol decided to press her ear against the wall as well, to see if she could also hear anything else.

It had been a few weeks since Carol first heard the noises under the bathroom sink. Now there were no more than a few scratching noises, along with a few other sounds they did not recognize, which they guessed were the mice her mother had found in the kitchen.

"Do you suppose they will be able to get out now that the holes are patched? You know... the mice that live in there?" Carol inquired of Peter again, having not gotten an answer from him the first time. "I really didn't want to trap them inside the wall to starve. Mice are such cute, fuzzy little things."

He assured her that mice could always find a way to get out, and they would be fine. After all, while some of the holes were still open, they had thrown little bits of food in, to feed the mice. Her mother would have killed them both if she had ever caught them doing that.

"Well I guess that's it for today, I will see you tomorrow in school," Peter added, as he gathered his things to head for home.

_School? Oh no, we will just have to see about this_. Carol walked with Peter as far as the front door. After closing it, she scurried off to have a talk with her mother. _There are only six weeks of school left. I will have to let Mom know that I believe my time would be better spent helping out here rather than going to a strange school for such a short time._

Carol found both her mother and an end to her debate about staying home instead of going to school, as she rounded the doorway into the kitchen.

"Well Little Lady, which one would you like in your lunch for school tomorrow; the peanut butter or the chocolate chip cookies? I know there are only six weeks left, but you cannot just stay home with me. Although I could use the help around here, you do need your education, so there will be no debate about it."

How could she be so chipper about it?

Carol knew her mother was right. In the meantime, there was plenty of work still to be done cleaning up the house. Carol stood looking around the living room trying to decide where to start.

"I found another box in the garage, and put it in your room for you to unpack."

Carol looked over at her mother who had disappeared back into the kitchen. _How does she do that? Whenever I run out of something to do, she just appears out of nowhere._

After finishing with the box, Carol headed for the kitchen to set the table and get ready for dinner. They enjoyed a pleasant meal together, then, Carol and her mother headed out to have a seat on the front porch swing to watch the stars and talk for a little while before it was time for her to head off to bed.

With an elbow nudge and a tap on her leg, "Well little lady I think it's time. Just think of it as another adventure."

"Alright mom, love you," Carol moaned, as she reached over to give her mother a goodnight kiss.

Tonight, Carol could not help thinking about how good the bed was going to feel. Grabbing her dad's coat, to use as her shield against the monsters that come out at night, Carol crawled into bed, curled up into a tight little ball, and drifted in and out of a restless sleep.

Waking to the sound of rustling paper and something moving around on her floor, Carol slowly sat up and tried to rub the sleep from her eyes. With only a sliver of a moon, it did not really offer much light. Peering around her room, Carol stared intently in the direction of the rustling sounds, near her closet.

"I wonder if it could be that cat I had found, when we first moved in," Carol whispered, not wanting to frighten it away. "Here, kitty, kitty, kitty." Carol needed to be quiet as she did not want to wake her mother in the next room.

With her hand held out at full arm's length, Carol continued coaxing, what she hoped was the cat that they had found that first day. At first, whatever it was she was watching moving around in the dark, shrank back into the corner of her room. After holding her hand out and calling to it, it slowly started to make its way over to her.

"It's okay, kitty. Come on," Carol cooed at it. "Just a little closer; you can do it," Carol continued encouraging it to come closer. Just as she was almost able to reach out and grab a hold of it, the headlights from a passing car glared into her room through the large window over her bed.

A mixture of "E-E-E-E-E-E!" and horrible hissing, crackling noises filled the room. Carol was not sure what she had almost grabbed a hold of in the dark.

The creature was covered with tufts of hair, similar to the cat they had seen, but she was sure this could not possibly be any cat that she had ever seen before. It seemed to have tiny little hands, with claw like fingers and long jagged teeth. Its eyes glowed red in the reflection of the headlights.

Although it seemed like hours, it was only a matter of seconds before Carol was grabbing one of her shoes to throw at it. With a second set of headlights lighting up her room, the hideous creature ran hissing and screeching into her closet, only seconds before her mother came stumbling into her room and turned on the light.

Carol was up, out of bed, and clinging to her before she could say a word.

"What is going on in here?" her mother inquired, with some alarm in her voice.

All Carol could do was point to the closet.

Finally calming her daughter down and putting her in her room, she went to her daughter's room to have a look at whatever she thought was in her closet, since she was unable to get anything out of her.

Carol's description resembled something out of one of her monster tales. Unfortunately, Carol was not really sure what she had seen or if she had dreamt the whole thing.

Kneeling down, Carol's mother proceeded to pull everything out of the closet until she could see all the way to the back wall. "Well," she remarked curtly, as she sat back to look at a small hole in the back of the closet. "I guess we missed one." She picked up and stuffed one of Carol's rags-dolls into the hole, then got up and closed the closet door.

Coming back to her room, she tucked Carol into bed and held onto her until the morning.

They were up at first light, patching the last hole in the house and calling the exterminator once again. This time she instructed him to bring stronger traps!

### Chapter 6: The Newest Member

The last day of school was usually considered to be the best day of school. However, today Carol felt as if she were being tortured as she watched the minutes tick off the clock. _Did it just move backwards?_ There was a whole list of items that needed to be done before the first tryouts for the Weaver of Shadows Club.

Carol let her thoughts wander off, to when she and Peter started referring to themselves of the "Weaver of Shadows Club." Even though it was only the two of them, in the club, they did not think they lacked for anything. However, after several other children had showed a lot of interest in their club, over the last few weeks of school, Carol and Peter decided that it was time to add some new members.

Carol's thoughts were snapped to attention as the bell rang out, loud and clear, sending the room into a tizzy of activity. Carol immediately headed out into the hallway and towards the group of children, who were waiting to find out the location of the first tryouts.

As she approached them, Carol tried to stifle her laughter. The other students, scurrying around, looked like a disturbed anthill.

Once it was confirmed, who would be coming, they were told to meet at Peter's house.

Carol and Peter quickly headed toward their houses to get ready for the other children to arrive.

"Remember when it was just the two of us?" Peter asked.

"Yes, I do," Carol mused, as she thought back to some of the adventures that they had had so far. "I think we made the right choice for the meeting place, too. The old oak tree in your yard will keep us sheltered from the wind, when it blows cold in the fall and winter. Plus, it will give us plenty of shade when it gets hot in the summer."

Arriving at Peter's house, they took up their places under the old oak to wait for the first of their classmates to arrive.

The first group of children soon arrived. Greeting them, Peter instructed them to all stand near the tire swing.

Perhaps, it was a case of nerves or lack of any real imagination, but not one of them had a tale worthy of membership. After talking it over, Carol and Peter decided to give them all one more chance to become members. They then, in turn, stood to weave a tale of their own.

Afterwards, Carol relayed to them that when they could weave a tale such as the one that Peter or herself had just woven, they could return and try again. Carol had also decided to assign them an idea for their second attempt. After some thought, Carol instructed the hopeful weavers the task of making up tales of far-off realms, wizards, and goblins as their test.

"You may take up to three days to return, with your tale ready to present or be disqualified forever!"

Three days later, Carol and Peter were both surprised when two of them did not come back at all. By the time the third came back, they had almost given up on him too.

"I wanted to be sure I had an account worthy of weaving for you, so I can become the newest member," he explained, as he took up his place by the tire swing.

In order to look as ominous and powerful as they could, Carol and Peter sat down on the old chairs they had set up, to use as their thrones and prepared to listen once more. Peter leaned over and whispered to Carol, "I hope this tale that he has prepared for us is better than the last one."

The boy began weaving his tale as if he were one of their faithful subjects, who had come to entertain them, as he spoke of past battles that he had won for the lands.

At the end of his narrative, he informed Carol and Peter that he had to move next week, but he decided to tell his story anyway. He was hopeful that if his tale was worthy, they would consent to allowing him to create a "Weaver of Shadows Club" in his new neighborhood.

They both agreed that his tale was a fantastic tale of adventure, and after congratulations were bestowed upon Kevin, Carol and Peter wished him well.

"I thought that we would have had several new members by now," Carol said, leaning over close to Peter, after the boy had left.

"Yes, I did too. It turns out, the only one so far that has presented a tale worthy of membership, is moving away," Peter retorted.

It was hot the next day, when Carol arrived at Peter's house, and they had not yet decided on what to do. When a boy that they had seen around, but had never talked to came by and asked if he could try to weave a tale for them.

"I was unable to make it to the first tryouts and really would like a chance to become a new member of the Weaver of Shadows Club," he stated confidently.

Carol and Peter were in the middle of planning an extraordinary adventure-battle. "Come back in a few days," they told him, without taking the time to look over in his direction. They then continued making their plans, only to be caught by surprise, when the young boy interrupted them again.

"I will not need to return on another day," he said quite seriously. "I have prepared a tale, that I have no doubt, will chill and astound you enough, that I will, indeed, be leaving here as the newest member of the Weaver of Shadows Club," he stated, with an exceptionally determined look on his face.

At first glance, he was not much to look at. He was taller than most for his age and remarkably thin. His sandy blonde, naturally curly hair, and subtle features, made him look like too much of a 'Momma's Boy' to be able to weave much of a tale. The new boy stood silently, while Carol and Peter sized him up and thought; _This will not take long._

"Alright," Carol finally conceded, as she pointed towards the tire swing, letting him know that he could regale them with his tale over there. Then, taking their places on the thrones, Peter bade him to begin.

He did not look nervous, like the others who had come before them to try out for membership. Instead, he stood tall and straight, almost as if he were at attention. Without hesitation he began weaving his frightful tale of terror and adventure. Carol and Peter sat silently, trying to appear interested, instead of annoyed, at the interruption to their plan making.

"I have come from the Kingdom of Mot. It is not far from your realms. It is a modest Kingdom and has little worth to outsiders. All was peaceful, and my loyal subjects were happy and well."

At this point, Carol started to stand up to interrupt him, intending to tell him that it was a good try and to come back another day. She wanted to get back to their plans for the day. However, before she could move, Peter grabbed her by the leg and pulled hard on it, to get her to sit back down.

"Be quiet! I want to hear this. It's starting to get good," he hissed under his breath.

Carol glared down at him as she tried to pull away. Finding herself becoming quite annoyed by her friend and this boy, Carol stopped herself short, of possibly having a fight with Peter. Instead Carol just sat down in a huff.

Carol began to listen, with renewed interest, when the tale suddenly took on an unexpected twist. The new boy's eyes squinted, as he hunched up his back and bent over, in an attempt to get a better effect out of his tale.

"There came to my Kingdom a wicked sorcerer, who demanded that all, be surrendered on to him. I feared him much, but still, I stood tall, when I refused to hand my Kingdom over to him. The wizard vanished in an instant, leaving only a cloud of smoke behind. It smelled of sulphur and burnt leaves. All in my throne room turned their eyes towards me to see what I might do. After conferring with my council and captain of the guard, it was decided that we send out the bravest of the royal guard, to destroy the wizard, before he conjured up any evil to bring down upon our tiny kingdom."

"Thus, it was to be; I sent my guards out to destroy the wizard. My royal guard was able to attack with the element of surprise on their side. The battle they fought was long and fierce, and many of them were killed immediately. Flashes of light shot out of the wizard's fingertips, and the air was filled with screams of anguish, as the light seared the flesh off of anyone that came in contact with it. But, even this could not stop my guardsmen from their mission. Finally, they were able to gain the upper hand on the evil wizard, by circling around behind him. But, before they could finish him off, the wizard had time to conjure up a hideous creature and send it out to terrorize the Kingdom of Mot."

_The Kingdom of Mot? I wonder where he got that name?_ Carol thought to herself.

"How do I know the details of this battle are true, you might ask? It is because I was able to hear of the great battle from one of my most trusted guardsmen. Unfortunately, he was the only one of my royal guard who lived long enough to return to the castle and tell of their success in destroying the demon wizard. He was very near death himself, with most of the right side of his body ripped and torn. He told us of their victory, and of the beast conjured up by the wizard. Collapsing to the floor, my trusty guardsman laid bleeding and barely able to speak. He told us of the light that had shot out from the wizard's eyes and mouth, as he was slain. The guardsman spoke of how he stood and looked at the place where the wizard had burst into flames. He also described how the smoke had choked out the sun and burned his eyes, nostrils, and throat, causing him to struggle and gasp for air. The smell from where the wizard was slain was sharp and pungent, like that of the deepest recesses of a foreboding dungeon. He, my trusted protector, struggled to regain his footing, but instead, fell back onto the floor. It was clear that my guardsman had become quite exhausted from the battle fought earlier and the struggle to return to the castle."

By this time, Carol and Peter were totally engrossed. Not a word was spoken, as they continued to listen to every word.

"It had come out of the ashes and burned cinders left from the wizards remains, the guardsman told me. His voice was dry and raspy and barely above a whisper by this time. This caused everyone in the throne room to draw nearer, so we could learn about what it was that had come out of the ashes. My royal guardsman continued to tell us what had taken place during the battle with the wizard. He said, 'The air was filled with the rancid smell of rotting corpses, as darkness surrounded us all. It was then that the beast attacked! It sprang from the ashes, slashing with its spiny claw like fingers, each razor sharp. It struck at all that stood before it, tearing the flesh from their bodies. No sound could be heard above the agonizing shrill screams of my fellow guardsmen, as the air was filled with desperate cries for help by those who had been wounded. I could hear, all around me, swords, as they swished through the air, striking nothing. The creature was too fast. We could not see where it was or where it had gone.'"

At this point in the tale, the boy who had come to try out for membership in the club, crept closer to them, in order to look Carol and Peter straight in the eyes. If a person did not know better, you would have sworn that he was telling about a real incident that had happened in a real, far-off place.

He wiped his brow and took a slow raspy breath. He then continued, as if he were retelling the accounts of the survivor, from the battle.

"'We put up a gallant fight,' the guardsman added, between gasps. He again attempted to regain his footing, so he could stand guard with the others and help protect the castle. I went to his side, as he lay on the floor. 'What did the creature look like? A dragon? An Ogre? Speak my good man!' I prevailed upon him, grabbing him by the shoulders and shaking him, I tried to get him to open his eyes again. Alas, he finally perished, before he could tell us anymore. Much to our dismay, we were not able to learn any details about the fierce creature that the wizard had conjured up to destroy us."

"That is a great tale!" Peter remarked, as he began to get up and approach the new boy, to shake his hand.

It was Carol's turn to grab him by the leg and pull him back down. "Be quiet!" she hissed at him, "I don't think it's quite over yet, and I don't want to miss the end."

Seeing that he had their full attention again, the new boy continued with his tale. "We tripled the guards at all entrances to the Kingdom, to wait and watch for the arrival of the unknown creature. The sentries were instructed to sound the alarm and thus, warn us all of the approach of the great beast. It had been quiet for two days, causing us to believe that the creature was not going to appear. Perhaps another one of my guards had lived just long enough to destroy the hideous creature and save the Kingdom. But no!" the wiry young lad shouted, as he jumped up into the air and landed frightfully close to Carol and Peter, giving them a start.

At this point in the tale, he slowly walked over to a tree stump that was to the left of Carol and Peter. He sat down and paused, while they waited for him to continue weaving his tale of evil creatures and wizards. He then leaned over and held his head in his hands, as if he was exhausted and genuinely worried about his royal subjects. Slowly, he rose and paced back and forth, while looking off into the distance.

Grabbing Peter by the arm, Carol whispered, "I feel like we are watching a late night movie with his theatrics. If I didn't know any better, I would say these events actually happened. I am very intrigued by his tale."

"Me too," Peter agreed.

Finally, turning towards them, the look on his face was one of utter bewilderment. "Just when all the subjects in my kingdom had started to relax, and their lives seemed to be returning to normal, we became aware that the creature had already been here! It had been sneaking into the village, under the cover of darkness. Where, one by one, it had taken people to its lair, never to be seen nor heard from again."

Carol briefly glanced over at Peter and could see that he had also taken notice of how this new boy stayed true to the character he was portraying in his tale. The boy, with his hands up in the air, genuinely looked as if he were perplexed; at how someone could just disappear under the very noses of anyone else in the house. Carol and Peter continued to watch him look nervously around the room that he described himself in. Peter almost found himself turning to look behind himself, just in case there was something back there.

"When the family members or friends that were left behind, were asked to describe the creature, not one soul had seen the great beast, nor heard any unusual noises in the night. All my subjects that had been taken during the night left little or no signs behind. Finally, we realized it was only under the cover of darkness, and never during the light of the day, that the attacks were to come. We had finally discovered that it was the darkness we were to fear, and not just the great beast itself. After five weeks, few of my loyal subjects remained. Those that were taken during the night were never to be seen nor heard from again. Many of the others had fled, with the return of the daylight. Those who remained would only come out in groups. When the darkness fell, the torches would burn until the light of day."

Carol began to wonder if Peter was feeling the same prickly sensations crawl up his back. This new boy was exceptionally good at provoking his audience to picture the scenes laid out before them. So good, that Carol could see herself in the role of each of the characters.

"A great toll on my domain had been accomplished, in immense magnitude, by the creature conjured up by the evil wizard. No one slept much at night. The fear that they or someone in their family could be next, had everyone struggling to stay awake until the sun brought the promise of safety for another day. The entire Kingdom was lit up brightly with many torches, as they kept vigil over their homes. My loyal subjects would pray for the light of day to return. Sadly, when it did, they would find yet another had been taken. Anyone who fell asleep and let the torches in their home burn out, would find someone had been taken. It was the same most nights. There were never any tracks left outside the hovel, or inside, for that matter. None, except for tracks left behind by little animals that roam the woods after the sun had been pushed from the sky. We believed these to be no more than the tracks left behind by a fox or opossum."

To help keep up the suspense, the boy before them bent over as if he really were examining a set of tracks. He then dismissed them as unimportant since they were too small to come from the creature they were sure had come to torment them.

"We were at a loss and had sent for the bravest of warriors from the lands that surrounded ours. All who came to do battle with the creature, failed. Come dawn the next day, none were seen again. We did not see it at first, because of its size. The wizard was brilliant in his scheme. He did not conjure up a fierce dragon or a giant to kill us. No, instead he sent a small creature that could hide in the shadows or in the nooks and crannies of the villagers' homes. This way, the creature was able to come out at night and drag off my subjects, without anyone being none the wiser. I had lost most of my subjects, by the time we realized that it was not a large creature, that we were to fear, but a very small one. We had seen the tracks left by the creature, all along!"

The tone of his voice faltered slightly, as if he had just come to the realization of something that had been in front of him the whole time.

"Each morning we searched, but were unable to find where the creature would hide during the day. I could not send anyone to search at night, because if I did, they did not return. The villagers in my Kingdom were reduced to hiding, huddled together in the corners of their homes, fearing for their lives. Until very early one morning, one of my subjects, having decided that it would be daylight soon, decided to attempt an escape. Most of my subjects waited until the light of the day to flee. I could neither blame them, nor prevent them from going. Our only consolation was that they wait for the break of day, so that we were able to determine if the creature had made off with them or if they had left of their own accord, before they were next!"

The boy hunched down, and slowly looked around, to see if it were safe to make his escape from the village. This caused, both Carol and Peter to hunch down and look around as well. They knew there was not really anything there, but could not keep from checking anyway.

"It was just before dawn when much to their horror the family came across the creature. They quickly dropped down behind some rocks to avoid detection. With instructions to stay low, the man stood up to peer over the top of the rocks. He was sickened as he watched the creature dragging what was left of his neighbor into its hidden lair. The creature had not made it all the way inside its lair. The man it dragged behind it was too heavy, which made it slow going. His family watched in horror, as the creature continued to drag its prize. Just as the creature reached the mouth of its lair, the sun began to peek over the top of one of the smaller hills surrounding the realm. Its rays shone bright across the valley floor, casting long shadows, as it made its cut through the greyness of the early dawn. One such sliver of light hit the creature full on. The calmness of the early morning was shattered by the blood curdling scream of anguish coming from the creature. The creature thrashed about in pain, as the sunlight seared its skin, producing puffs of smoke. The air was filled with the smell of burnt flesh and hair, as the creature was forced to drop, for a moment, the remains of his last victim."

The expression on the boy's face twisted into a grimace as he described the acrid stench which permeated the air.

"My subject reported this to me and said that it was a cry unlike any that he had ever heard before. It made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end and his blood run cold. Fearing that the creature would see him and come for him next, since he had found its lair, my subject tried hard not to close his eyes. But the bitter shrieking from the small creature echoed through his head, causing him to close his eyes tightly. He dropped to the ground and hung on to his family for dear life. They feared that this was the end for them, too. A small patch of passing clouds masked the rays from the sunlight briefly, which had been tormenting the creature. The creature stopped its screeching and retrieved its prize, while darting into the safety of its lair. My subject dared to look over the top of the rocks he was hiding behind, and watched as the creature disappeared into an abandoned hut at the edge of the forest. Gathering up his family and he saw them safely to the next village, and then, my brave subject returned to my castle to relay to us what he had seen."

This young blonde boy, while looking directly at Carol and Peter, paused for a moment. His facial expressions and movements mirrored what you would expect someone truly living through this to display. Carol and Peter sat mesmerized as they continued to visualize the tale as it unfolded before them.

With only a brief pause, he then stated, "I do not have more than a handful of guards left to protect my subjects. I have come to ask for your help in ridding my Kingdom of this vile thing. I am sure, once it has finished with my Kingdom, it will surely make its way over to the neighboring villages and then, finally, to your very own castles. We now know where it hides during the day. We will be able to destroy it, easily enough, by tearing down the brush around its lair. This will leave the creature no place to hide. We can then use the full power of the sunlight to keep it trapped inside. Together, we can set the hut ablaze, burning the creature and its lair to the ground. I can offer you no more than this small token. This is all that is left of my vast treasure." The boy picked up a small box with the word 'Treasure' written across the top.

The new boy continued on for a short time more, telling of the horrible things that this creature had done, while under the cover of darkness. As he finished, he bowed as if they actually were living in the time of wizards and knights.

Carol and Peter sat, without uttering a word, as this new boy stood before them waiting for one of them to speak. Carol and Peter turned to look towards each other, then without a word to one another, they both rose in unison. Carol left Peter by their thrones and walked to the back of the old oak tree. The boy who had come to try out stood silently fidgeting with the box that he held.

Peter could tell that he was curious about whether his story was, indeed, as impressive in terror and wizardry, as he thought it was.

After a short time, Carol returned from behind the oak tree, holding a wooden stick, which they had fashioned to be like a sword. Nodding towards Peter, they walked over to the boy. Carol commanded him to kneel, while standing in front of him.

She then touched him on each shoulder with the sword. She then bade him to rise. He was then heartily welcomed as the newest member of the Weaver of Shadows Club!

After concluding the rest of the ceremony, Carol and Peter had a dozen or more questions for him. How had he come up with such a fantastic tale?

"I was able to come and listen to a couple of the tales that you were weaving near the end of lessons for the year and decided that I wanted to become a member of the club. I would have come sooner, but I was having trouble coming up with a tale worthy enough for you. That is, until one day, I heard strange noises in the shed, out behind my house. I went to check it out, and by chance, when I peeked inside, I was able to see what I thought was a small animal scurrying around in there. It was while trying to peek inside that I came up with what I was sure was the perfect tale!"

After talking a while longer, Carol and Peter decided that they would also give their castles and realms a name. After all, they could not have him be the only one to have given his empire a name.

"How did you come up with the name, The Kingdom of Mot?" Peter asked.

"That was easy," he said laughing, "I just reversed the letters in my name!"

Without hesitation, Carol and Peter decided to do the same. Carol's was to be called the Kingdom of Lorac, and Peter's home was to be called the Kingdom of Retep.

Everyone agreed that the tale the newest member had woven was so impressive that everyone must have their first adventure, to be saving the Kingdom of Mot. This way, they could continue with the tale he had told them, as if he had actually come to seek their aid in ridding his lands of the evil creature that had been set upon them by a malevolent wizard.

"We should make a plan to help King Mot rescue his royal subjects, from the vile creature conjured up by the wizard," Retep said enthusiastically, while dropping to his knees.

The ground was damp under the old oak, making it easy to draw in the dirt. Satisfied, that they all had come up with an excellent plan, Lorac suggested when and where to meet up. After a short discussion about what time to meet the next day, everyone all came to the same conclusion; none of them wanted to wait!

Jumping to their feet, everyone raised their stick swords into the air. Touching the tips together, they prepared to set out on the quest, only to hear the queens of the lands calling for everyone to come in for the night.

"I'm not ready to go in yet!" Retep and Mot moaned at the same time.

Tapping them on the shoulders, Lorac signaled for them to follow her. Everyone crouched down, as they snuck past the Queen of Retep, and then on to her Kingdom. Only to be caught trying to get past the front gate.

"It seems that the queen of my castle has need of my services. Hence we will have to begin our quest on the morrow," Lorac conceded, bowing down to each of the other two kings.

Bidding each other adieu, with a promise to continue with their quest earlier tomorrow everyone retreated to their kingdoms.

"The creature is to live but one more day!" Lorac called out, as she disappeared into the house.

"Continue to make improvements on our plan for our mission tomorrow, if you can," Retep called back over his shoulder, as he disappeared up the sidewalk.

Early the next morning, after eating a quick breakfast, Lorac bid the queen of her castle farewell. She did not want to waste any time getting to Retep's house, where she was to meet up with him and Mot, in order to begin the adventure.

Lorac and Retep talked excitedly about the additions and changes that they had come up with, concerning the plan that they had made the day before. After a while, they stopped and looked up, noticing that the newest member, the King of Mot, had not put any suggestions before them.

"I must say, I am surprised that you're not throwing in as many, if not more, ideas than we have been," Lorac said in a questioning tone.

"Well, I do have one that I had come up with last night, but I wasn't sure if it was okay for a new member to offer too many ideas on how things should go," Mot offered sheepishly.

"Let's hear them," Retep commanded.

After hearing Mots' suggestions and perfecting the plan, they gathered their weapons and were on their way to do battle.

But not before giving out three powerful cheers, "TO VICTORY!"

Mot stopped and held his hand out while looking up at the sky as he came out from under the protection of the oak tree.

The sky had gone from the bright blue that it had been when everyone first arrived at the oak tree, to dark and foreboding, which looked like it would not be long before they were hit with a summer thunderstorm.

Retep and Lorac held out their hands to check for rain as well.

"It looks as if we could be in for quite a downpour," Mot cautioned, looking back at them.

Talking it over briefly, everyone agreed that, so far, there had only been a drop or two of rain, and there was no real reason to turn back now. With that, Mot, Retep, and Lorac decided to take a chance that the weather would not get any worse until later in the day.

With the confidence of youth, the rescue party headed for the Kingdom of Mot and certain victory!

### Chapter 7: The Kingdom of Mot

"It's starting to rain hard now, you two," Retep warned, while holding out his hand.

Lorac could not help chuckling to herself. _It's_ _so funny, when people do that. It is clearly raining hard now, but it's almost as if it wasn't true, unless they held out their hand to check first._

The burst of rain slowed to a light drizzle, giving the intrepid band of adventures the opportunity to carry on with their intended mission.

"Come on, let's get going. The rain has almost stopped again," Lorac urged the pair of them. "If we can get past my castle, without getting noticed, then we're home free, all the way to Mot's realm."

Retep and Mot quickly agreed. They each tried to pretend that they did not feel the rain steadily growing in intensity as they neared the Kingdom of Lorac. The light drizzle, hitting them from time to time, began to turn into a real downpour.

Running for cover, Retep called out to them, "Over here, over here."

Following Retep, Lorac and Mot tried to stay low and out of sight, as they dashed from bush to bush. They did not really care if they got wet or not, but they were sure that if they were spotted by the queen or her spies, the quest would have to be called off.

Fortunately, as it often times happens with summer storms, they can stop as suddenly as they start. With a break in the storm and the rays of the sun beginning to shine down once more, the decision to continue the quest was confirmed.

Without hesitation, Mot, followed closely by Lorac and Retep, ran jumping over fences and through neighboring Kingdoms, on their way to his castle.

"Look!" Retep exclaimed, as he pointed toward a small blond girl who looked to be about nine years old. They could see she was crying and staring down into the storm drain near her 'village.' "We may be able to render aid to this damsel in distress," he added, as he headed towards her.

"What seems to be the trouble, fair maiden?" Mot chimed in, not wanting to be out done by Retep.

They quickly learned how she had lost her doll, when her baby buggy had tipped over. Her doll had fallen into the gutter and was carried away into the storm drain.

Crowding around the storm drain, they all tried to take a look inside for the doll. At this point, the water had slowed down to a trickle. This, they decided, was really where the adventure was to begin for the day.

"It seems that the vile creature came out during a break in the storm. The horrid beast has made off with this poor damsel's baby!" Mot concluded, while standing as tall as he could.

In an attempt to, also, sound as important as she could, Lorac added, "The creature, hearing us approach, must have sensed that it was in danger. It must have decided to take refuge in the cave that this river flows into."

Lorac took her place next to Mot who was followed closely by Retep.

With her flashlight held high up in the air, Lorac commanded her comrades, "Light your torches. Let us help this poor woman to save her baby."

With their flashlights at the ready, the band of rescuers prepared to retrieve the doll from the storm drain.

They all leaned over, to peer inside. Unfortunately, the storm drain was too narrow, to see much of anything down there. They all dropped to their knees to get a closer look. The hot damp air inside assaulted their noses, as the smell of moldy leaves and rotting garbage came drifting up to greet them.

Retep was the first to fall into full character, "Fear not, sweet damsel. We are the kings of the realm, and we will assist you. I will sacrifice my safety and enter this cave to rescue your child."

The girl that they decided to stop and help instantly fell into character. It was as if she were in on their plans from the start.

"Oh, thank you, kind Sirs, for coming to my rescue," she said, with a short curtsey.

Lying on his belly, Retep slithered into the storm drain as far as he could. He then reached out his hand behind him, and called up at us "A torch, my good man! I think... I can... see... her. It seems that the creature has dropped her. He must have heard us coming after him. She looks as if she is caught up on a branch. Yes... I can... see her," Retep struggled to holler up at them.

Retep continued to speak in broken sentences, as he grasped for the doll.

Grunting and groaning, Retep tried to stretch a little farther. "I can... almost... reach... her, but... not quite," he said in a voice barely above a whisper. "I'm going to set the torch down, so that I might be able to reach in just a little further."

Retep laid the light beside him. He tried to reach a little farther down into the cave, again. "I can... just... about reach... her. There, I have her!"

Mot was about to help pull Retep out of the storm drain, when Retep gave out a scream that sounded a lot like a frightened little girl. Retep, along with the doll, came flying out of the storm drain.

Everyone watched, as the doll went tumbling through the air, followed by the little girl, as she went running after it.

"My baby, my baby!" she screamed, as she ran to retrieve it from where it had landed.

Lorac and Mot grabbed onto each other when they were shaken by the sudden outburst. Without hesitation from either of them, Mot and Lorac reached over and began yelling at Retep. "Why did you do that?"

"I felt something brush my hand. There's something down there!"

Retep stood rubbing and shaking his hand, as if this would remove the feeling of something unknown, off of it.

"What did it feel like, a big rat maybe?" Lorac asked, full of curiosity.

"Yes, what do you think it was?" Mot added.

"I'm not sure," Retep answered. "But, I think it tried to bite me!"

Everyone, including the girl they had stopped to help, gathered around to check his hand for any signs of a bite. There were a few minor scratches and a couple of places that may have looked like he could have been bitten.

All at once, everyone who had a flashlight pointed it down into the storm drain, to see if they could get a glimpse of the storm drain monster. No one was able to see any more than some trash and small broken tree limbs that had washed down the drain. After a few minutes it was decided that it was probably nothing more than a broken branch.

At that point, Lorac, Retep, and Mot, decided to return to the adventure that they had originally started out on, but were stopped by the girl holding the wet and dirty doll.

"I would like to thank you, kind Sirs, for your bravery," she lavished. "However, I do not think that mere thanks alone are enough for saving my baby from the evil creature that stole her and took her away to eat." She added this part, with such conviction, that it was as if she believed Retep had actually saved her baby from a fate worse than mere death alone.

Still in character, Lorac, Peter, and Mot bowed before her. In unison the rescue party drew their stick swords and held them up in the air.

"It is our duty and pleasure to protect and serve the peasants of our Kingdoms that cannot for themselves, fend off the dangers that exist here," Mot answered with some swagger in his voice, as they departed.

"This is where I live," Mot said, as they came to a stop in front of a large white house. Their group surveyed the area and finalized the plan of attack on the shed.

The fortress stood about twenty feet to the left of what was one of the biggest houses in the neighborhood. It was an impressive looking white house, as it towered over the neighbors' houses.

_This is going to be more of an adventure than I had hoped!_ Lorac thought to herself, after seeing the house and yard for the first time.

"Alright, first we need to destroy the sentries that protect the mouth of the creature's fortress. On my mark," Lorac said quietly, not wanting to arouse the sentries' suspicions. "Now!"

Mot and Retep leaped out to encompass the wicked and evil minions who watched over the entrance to the creature's lair.

All at once, the chickens that had been peacefully scratching around in the grass for bugs, scattered in all directions. The rescue party chased each one of them, until everyone was quite out of breath.

"It appears that news of the deeds and battles that we have fought and won has preceded us," Mot boasted, as he tried to catch his breath, then added "The sentries that so bravely guarded the fortress of the creature, have all deserted their posts."

"They have retreated back down into the dark bowels of the underworld from whence they came," Retep added.

"Wait," Lorac interrupted, as she grabbed them both by the arm. "Listen..." she whispered, while dropping onto the ground. Lorac then half crawled, half scooted backwards, toward the cover of nearby bushes.

Without a word, Retep and Mot did the same. Even though they did not hear anything, they wanted to be sure not to scare off the creature that Lorac thought she had seen or heard.

Lorac laid as flat as she could on the ground. She held up a finger to her mouth, to suppress any questions her friends were about to ask, while she pointed towards the shed. "There it is again, a noise from inside the fortress," Lorac whispered.

This immediately brought everyone's attention back to the mission at hand; the retaking of the Kingdom of Mot, back from the horrid creature conjured up by the evil sorcerer.

Lorac tapped each of them on the shoulder, and pointed first to the right, then to the left of the fortress, indicating which side that they were each to go, while she went up the middle. Mot and Retep crouched down, as they made their way closer. The sound of rustling inside the shed caused them all to drop back to the ground. After a short wait, they did not hear any other sounds, and resumed their advance toward the shed.

It was anyone's guess as to whether it might possibly be a rat or one of the chickens, trapped inside, but, Lorac knew everyone wanted to make sure.

"I think we should storm the door," Mot offered.

"Wait," Retep whispered, "I think it might be better if we snuck inside. We don't want this vile creature hiding in there to panic and try to attack us instead."

"Okay, let's walk up quietly and press our ears against the door and walls before we go inside. Maybe we can hear, where in the fortress, the creature might be," Mot whispered back.

Lorac grimaced, as the wall made creaking noises when she leaned on the side of the shed. The last thing that she wanted to do was startle the creature inside and give away their plans.

"Do you hear anything? Mot, do you hear anything?" Lorac repeated.

"No," Mot replied.

"Ask Retep if he can hear anything," she said back to him.

"He said 'no' too. I wonder if the creature is in there anymore or if it had somehow gotten out before we were able to make our way over to its hideout," Mot whispered over to Lorac.

"I don't know. Maybe we should just go inside and have a look around."

Mot and Lorac waited for Retep to open the door, only to be stopped again by Mot.

"Wait, I hear it," Mot whispered, as he grabbed both of their arms.

Without actually going inside, they all leaned toward the door, to listen again.

"Yes, yes, I hear it too!" Retep and Lorac declared in unison.

Quietly backing away from the door, while trying to make as little noise as possible, Lorac held her sword out in front of Mot and Retep to acquire their attention.

"For safety's sake, I suggest that we remove our crowns and capes, to keep from possibly getting caught on anything, in case we need to make a hasty retreat."

Retep and Mot quickly agreed.

"Alright, make ready my lads," Lorac whispered, as low as she could.

With her hand on the door handle, Lorac slowly opened the door, just far enough for everyone to peer inside.

The shed felt hot and muggy inside. The dust and spider webs hung heavy in the air, caking the items scattered around the tiny shed. It was filled with a rotten, rancid smell, like when raw meat is left out on the counter far too long on a hot summer day.

The stench made it difficult to breath. Looking over to the far side of the shed, Lorac watched as tiny particles of dust danced in and out of the sunlight that was streaming in through small holes in the wall.

"I wish there was more light, so we could get a better look at what's in here," Lorac uttered, leaning over towards Retep.

"Yeah, the windows are so dirty, that they are hardly letting in any light," Retep added.

Mot and Lorac both glanced up at the windows that were high up on the west and south sides of the shed.

"The spider webs look kind of pretty with the way they bend and twist the light," Mot mused.

Retep and Lorac stood, with half-twisted smiles, as they stared over at Mot. Lorac was sure that Retep was also wondering if Mot had lost his mind.

With their eyes now more accustomed to the low light, Lorac signaled for Mot and Retep to begin to inch their way forward. They moved in silence, as they began to poke around and look for the creature that they hoped was still in there. When anyone dared to speak, it was only in a whisper so low, it was difficult to make out the words.

Even though it was hotter than being in an oven, Lorac still found herself wishing that she was wearing her dad's coat, so she could pretend he was there with her.

"Are you scared?" Retep asked in a quiet voice.

"Of course not," Mot and Lorac both answered shakily.

"Are you?"

"No," he replied, after some hesitation.

Lorac was sure they were both lying. She knew she was.

The foul smell and dust had started to burn their noses, as they continued to move further into the shed. The air felt so thick you could have cut it with a knife. Their clothes clung to their now dripping bodies, from the intense heat. No fresh air or breeze was able to make its way into the recesses of the dark and forgotten world that they had ventured into. Lorac was sure of this much.

Lorac stood and looked around at the different things that had been stored in the shed. She guessed, by the looks of how much dust and the vast number of spider webs hanging around on them that they had been in here, just about forever.

No one wanted to be the first to turn on their torch. They were afraid that if they did, it would make them look like they were more afraid than the others. The closer to the back of the shed the group ventured, the more cluttered it became. This caused everyone to pick their way through to the back more carefully.

The courageous band of three, peered into all the places that a creature could possibly hide. Lorac secretly hoped she would not be the one to find it first. That is, unless it was something small, like a mouse or an innocent bunny rabbit.

Turning around to face the other kings, Lorac warned them, "Be careful when picking up anything. We don't know where the creature that is capable of creating such enormous webs such as these, is hiding right now."

Lorac, having said that, turned back around and walked right into one of the large sticky webs, that she had just warned them about, only moments before.

To her complete horror, it immediately clung to her face and hair. Before she could stop herself, Lorac let out a blood curdling scream. The unrelenting torment continued as Lorac thrashed about and struggled to get it off her face. Try as she might, she could not seem to free herself.

Wild thoughts of giant spiders coming out of the dark shadows and wrapping her in a giant cocoon, raced through her mind.

Finally, as she gasped for breath, and feeling quite sick to her stomach after such a fright, Lorac, at last, was able to free herself from the hideous trap that the creature had set for them.

The commotion raised by her screams, caused both Retep and Mot to scream too. If anyone would have seen them, they would have thought they were watching a bunch of clowns, running into each other.

Finally, calming back down, they all stood and looked at each other, with the same, _What just happened?_ look on their faces.

"Well, I'm sure whatever creature was in here, is surely gone after all that racket," Retep stated flatly, with a sigh of relief that it was not him that had set off the alarm.

"We need to be sure. Let's keep looking. We're almost at the back of the shed," Lorac urged them. She was relieved it was dark enough in there to hide her face, which was now bright red with embarrassment.

Although everyone was sure that it was gone or at least, secretly they all hoped it was, the search continued.

Lorac's head pounded with the sound of her own heart. She took in a slow breath, while she collected her wits about her. After all, being a king, it just would not do to let the other kings see her afraid of the creature that they sought or of running into any more traps that may still be in store for them.

"We've looked everywhere, except the far left corner. I think it's too dark to be able to see over there, though," Mot said uneasily, while he waited for Lorac and Retep to join him near the back corner.

"I think we should go ahead and turn our flashlights on," Lorac replied, as she reached for hers. Not finding it, she realized that she had left it outside in the yard.

"Do either of you have your torch with you?" Lorac asked.

"No," was the sheepish response that came back from both.

They had all left their flashlights out in the yard, after putting them down to chase the chickens.

By now, their eyes were stinging bitterly, as the sweat and dust that now covered them from head to toe, dripped down their faces.

Lorac wondered, _Do the others have thoughts of giving up for the day, also?_

The heat and smell of the beast's lair was taking a toll on the small group. Still, no one spoke up or suggested they give up. Lorac was not about to be the first to suggest that they abandon the mission. Consequently, they pushed on in their quest to rid the Kingdom of Mot of the horrid creature.

Mot urged Retep and Lorac to pick up the large snow shovel obstructing the view of the only corner that no one had yet checked. This was followed by nudges given by each of their comrades to go toward the shovel. They all wanted to see if the creature had been scared away or if the thing that Mot had seen was still in there with them.

"Stand back!" Lorac barked at them. "I will push the shovel over with the end of my sword."

Without another word being spoken, they quickly moved to the side of the shed, farthest away from the shovel, but not so far away that they could not see if the creature they sought was back there or not.

Summoning up as much courage as she could, Lorac slowly reached over with her sword at full arm's length. She hoped they could not see how much her hand was shaking, as the tip of the sword made its way closer to the shovel.

_Just another two inches,_ she thought to herself.

Lorac leaned forward while she held her tongue out and off to the side, as if it would help her reach further. The tip of the sword was just a hair's breadth away from the shovel, when a sudden gust of wind caught the shed door, blew it open, and then slammed it shut again, just as fast.

That was all it took to send everyone in the intrepid band of adventures, scrambling and crashing into each other, as they tried to escape from this ghastly foreboding place. Much to their horror, after having been scared a second time in the dark, they had lost all sense of direction.

"Okay, everybody stop for a minute!" Lorac shouted.

Retep and Mot stood with their eyes squinting into narrow slits, while trying to figure out where in the shed they were.

"There is no way the creature is still in here after all that!" Lorac stated flatly, as she approached the shovel.

Close on her heels Mot and Retep joined her; the boys leaned over with her and stared into the corner.

"Okay, let's take a look back here, so we can be done with this. It's bloody hot in here, and I, for one, would like to be sitting under a nice shade tree right about now," Lorac grumbled, while wiping more sweat and dust from her face.

Mot and Retep quickly agreed. They were also ready to be somewhere else. In spite of the misery that they found themselves enduring none of them wanted to give up after coming this far.

Lorac grabbed a hold of the shovel handle and gave it a pull. She wanted to prove she was right and that the creature was gone.

"Pick it up!" they both urged her.

"I'm trying to, but it seems to be stuck," Lorac said with some irritation, as she tried a couple more times.

She did not want them to think that she, the King of Lorac, could not pick up a snow shovel. Becoming frustrated, she told them to stand back. She then grabbed the shovel with both hands and gave it one final heave-ho.

The shovel went flying up and out of her hands. To her surprise, the shovel proceeded to soar across the room and crash into the front door. Mot and Retep ducked, and crouched close to the ground, while covering themselves with their hands and arms. No one wanted the shovel or anything else to come down on their heads.

Once the dust settled, each of them looked to see if any more damage to the shed had been done. Standing slowly and dusting off, each in turn started to laugh at all the times that they had managed to scare themselves in such a short time.

"Quiet!" Mot warned, while waving his hand in the air.

Retep and Lorac watched him as he continued to motion for them to be silent. Everyone's attention was drawn back to the corner that he was pointing at.

Mot continued, "I can hear noises over there in the dark, over in that corner. It sounds like it's moving around, as if it's looking for a way out."

No one wanted to be the one in front of the other. Nevertheless, they all still wanted to get a look at whatever it might be.

Crowding around each other, they stooped down, to get a better look.

"What do you think it is?" Mot asked.

"I don't know. I can hardly see. We've lost what little light we did have when the sun went behind some clouds," Lorac replied in an exasperated tone.

Retep stood up and stared at the windows, as if this would magically bring back the sunlight.

Their attention was abruptly brought back to the dark corner of the shed. The unspeakably vile monster that they had trapped in the shed with them began to crackle and growl in an unnervingly deep tone, followed by a long horrible hiss.

The creature, could not be seen, but they could hear it, which sent cold shivers up the spines of all that stood here, before it.

"Do you think it's a snake?" Retep asked.

"I'm not sure," Mot replied. "I don't think snakes can crackle or growl," he added.

"Oh yeah, that's right."

Normally, Lorac would have rolled her eyes at this, but not today.

With her curiosity overriding her fear, Lorac stood as far off to the side as she could, in case the creature made a run for the door, and then poked into the shadowy corner with her sword.

While poking at it, Lorac declared, "I, the King of Lorac, the King of Retep, and the King of Mot, have come to send you back to the dark pits of hell, from whence you came! You shall terrorize these poor villagers no further."

Lorac's heart lodged itself in her throat when she thought she felt something grab the end of her sword. The mysterious creature trapped in the corner seemed to try to pull it from her hand. While it continued to hiss and crackle, Lorac called out to Retep and Mot, "I think it's trying to bite my sword. I can feel something pulling on it!"

Mot and Retep rushed to her aid and also poked into the dark corner with their swords.

"Give up and return to the dark pit from whence you came, you foul fiend," Mot added.

With one final jab, the creature gave out a terrifyingly high-pitched scream, which sent everyone running for the exit. Slamming into the door and flinging it open, no one stopped to look back.

Lorac stuck her sword into the ground, to help prop the door open, in an attempt to let more light inside. She had hoped this would allow them to see what they had trapped in the corner. Not seeing anything, they all walked back into the shed and slowly poked at things with the other two swords as they went.

Lorac and the boys had almost reached the corner, when suddenly, some of the tools that hung on the walls, came crashing down around them. The thunderous calamity came from all directions and sent each of them high tailing for the door, a second time.

That was one too many scares in one day. It was decided to retreat bravely, and with considerable haste, to live and to fight another day.

The rest of the afternoon was spent weaving tales about what each thought they had found in the shed. Afterwards, Lorac followed by Retep and Mot walked over to pull her sword out of the ground.

"I'm sure, after leaving the door propped open, while we spent time weaving our tales, the creature must have gotten out," Mot hoped, as he closed and latched the door.

"That's too bad. I know we all wanted to see what it was that could make all of those strange sounds," Lorac added.

After bidding each other a grand farewell, they bowed and backed away from each other.

Retep and Lorac turned to run, jumping over the fence on the way back to their kingdoms.

Lorac yelled back, "We'll try again tomorrow, at dawn! Just in case the creature returns or did not escape while it had the chance!"

Mot waved until they were out of sight and then turned to go into his own castle to prepare for the next day's assault on the creature's fortress.
WEBSITE NEWS

Be sure to check our website

WeaverOfShadows.com

for updates and upcoming news for book two:

Syeribus: Creatures of the Night

Syeribus: Into the Darkness

Be the first to reserve your copy of the Syeribus trading card game set to be released with the launch of book two.

The website also contains excerpts for our short story collections Weaver of Shadows

Here you will find a collection of individual short stories to tide you over while book two is in production.

Feel free to contact me on my site with comments and interesting ideas.

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Coming soon for your reading pleasure:

Old Friends New Enemies — a romance thriller

Tonya — an adventure into the paranormal

Relics and Treasures the Dark Side

Carnage

I To Say Good-Bye To Me

The Cat

The Despised

The Rider

The Statue

Adocinda Vampire Chronicles

Titles are subject to change and will be announced on the website.

### The Journey

The journey I traveled to arrive at this completed novel originated about 10 years ago. This book actually started out as a short story based on the possibility of small creatures living under my bed. I guess that the fear of something possibly being under there and waiting to reach out to grab me has been with me since my earliest memories. The short story began to take on a life of its own about five years ago, when I decided to turn it into a full-length novel. However, it was not until about two years ago that I really dug in and became determined to see it through to the end.

***

I cannot go without extending a much-appreciated thank you to Morissa Schwartz, who was a great help with the editing. I also would like to thank my friends and family for the help on the artwork in book one. When I became bogged down, my family and friends played an integral part in helping me see my creation come to life.

***

A special thank you has to go out to my mom Malinda, my sister Terri, and my husband Dana for the support I received along the way.
