The stars didn’t shine through Sara’s bedroom, which was odd. They were usually her nightlight.
The eight-year-old ignored it and climbed into bed. The chill in her room made her shiver. Her hair was long, so when she looked down, her hair covered the sides of her vision. At least her flower-printed bed, a warm blanket, and toys on the ground kept her company.
She wrapped the blankets over her shoulder, hugged her special blanket tight to her chest, and fell asleep.
Growling came from under Sara’s bed. It wasn’t a dog growl, more like a bear, one that woke her right out of her sleep. Sara didn’t move. The growling found its way to her bones and made her shiver in fear.
Sara looked over her bed and saw hands. Big black bony hands. Bigger than any normal human’s. Blacker than the night outside. Its fingers looked like they had no skin, only bones.
Sara sat up, still clenching her blanket. The hands gripped the floor. They scratched the wood, making her jump, close her eyes, and cover her ears.
After a couple of seconds, Sara couldn’t hear it. She slowly opened her eyes. Big beady red eyes looked back at her, with a sharp, yellow, rigid smile.
“Hello Sara,” it said.