IWACA SPOTLIGHT AUTHOR
IWACA | 17
bright yellow star against a dark blue night sky. Rays of yellow light streaked from the center of the star to the edge of the glass.
Stinky did everything her dad told her to do: she pulled the covers up under her chin, lay her head on her soft, fluffy pillow, then turned to look at the night light and squinted her eyes nearly shut.
“What do you see?” Dad asked.
“I see a star!”
“That’s where the Night Mare lives.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Just the same, it’s still true. Now, begin to count softly.”
Stinky began to count.
“One, two, three, four...” and before Stinky could say “five,” she heard something.
“I hear something!”
“What does it sound like?”
“Wheeeeeeeeeeee! Like a horse whinnying.”
“That’s the Night Mare! She has heard your call!”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Just the same, it’s still true. Are you still under the covers? Is your head on your pillow? Are you squinting your eyes and looking at the night-light?”
Stinky did all four.
“What number are we on?”
“Six,” Stinky whispered.
“Go on counting then.”
“Six, seven, eight, nine…” and before Stinky could say “ten,” she heard something.
“I hear something!”
“What does it sound like?”
“Puddle-up, puddle-up, puddle-up, puddle-up!”
“That’s the Night Mare running through the night sky on her way to your room!”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Just the same, it’s still true. Are you still under the covers? Is your head on your pillow? Are you squinting your eyes and looking at the night-light?”
Stinky did all four.
“What number are we on?”
“Eleven,” Stinky whispered.
“Go on counting then.”
STINKY AND THE NIGHT MARE