by Holly Black
I ran to the door and stared up at the sky, but it was already far enough away that it just looked like an oddly shaped bird. But there, blowing on the lawn, was a single feather as long as my forearm. I picked it up, touching the soft barbs of the vane, admiring the pattern of browns that played over its surface.
I grabbed the last dog and brought it inside. Without the rest of the pack, it was pretty quiet. I felt bad enough to feed it half of my peanut butter sandwich. We kept the dog in the house for the next week and a half, even though my brother didn’t believe my story and my mother thought I had been feverish. By the time they insisted we let the dog out again, the thing must have been gone. I keep looking up at the skies, though, just in case it ever comes back looking for something bigger than a dog to eat.
—William G.
ANALYSIS: Griffins roost in high places and fly over large areas, scouting for food. Often this food source is a herd of sheep or an overpopulation of deer, but in this case the food source was something entirely different.
—H. B. & T. D.
This friendly creature is a combination of two animals:
Here’s what else I know about it:
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Things I’ve seen that scare me:
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Things I can’t see that scare me:
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A dream I’ve confused for a memory:
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Memories I have that may not actually be mine:
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If I could be any animal or combination of animals for a day, I would look like this:
This is me in my favorite disguise:
“Come on , Dumbellina, tell me you don’t believe in the tooth fairy! ”
FROM BOOK 2: THE SEEING STONE
HOBGOBLINS
This thing moved in under my bed after my front tooth fell out. Now it shows up at night to pinch me. I know it’s not the cat because the cat has a bell.
I’ve named him Puddingtoe because it sounds funny.
He also makes creepy shadows by wiggling his fingers in front of the night-light. I hope he stops really soon.
—Sam M.
ANALYSIS: More capricious than malicious, these pranksters can make a lot of trouble but are usually harmless.
—H. B. & T. D.
This creature keeps me up at night:
IT USUALLY WAKES ME UP AT:
(Place hands on clock to show time.)
Here’s what else I know about it:
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I like to have a light on near my room at night because if I wake up I might:
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When I wake during the night, familiar objects in my room appear to be these other things:
A list of funny names for creatures of the night:
Some drawings of creepy shadows:
Some more drawings of creepy shadows:
Postcard from a hobgoblin (front):
Postcard from a hobgoblin (back):
“The stones. The stones speak. They speak to me.”
FROM BOOK 4: THE IRONWOOD TREE
KNOCKERS
TAP. TAP.
That is the sound I’ve been hearing every night in the new apartment. Since Dad lost his job, everything has been different. Before, we lived in a nice house. Now we have a cruddy apartment near where my two aunts live. My older sister, Maria, and I have to share a bedroom. A sheet divides the room, protecting Maria’s “privacy.” It doesn’t protect me from Maria’s snoring. And, of course, there’s the other sound.
TAP. TAP.
I told Mom, but she said it was old pipes and I should ignore it. It gets in my head, though, cutting through my dreams, making it impossible to sleep. I’m tired all the time, stumbling through the halls of my new, scary school, but no one notices.
TAP. TAP.
Late one night I can’t take it anymore. The tapping seems to have started earlier and is louder than usual. It bangs around in my skull like loose dice. I get up and stick my feet into my sneakers, not even bothering to pop my heels in, letting them squash the back of the shoe. I unlatch the front door, taking off the chain and turning the bolt lock. Even though Dad would have a fit, I wedge a book in the door to keep it open and go out into the hall.
TAP. TAP.
The hallway’s worn blue carpet has strings hanging off of it in places. The other doors in the hallway look just like ours. The sound is clearly coming from the stairs, so I start down them. I hear a television o
n at the second floor and a dog barking on the first—even though we’re not allowed to have pets—but the sound is lower still. There’s a numberless door to the basement and when I turn the knob, it opens.
TAP. TAP.
The stairs to the basement are rickety and it smells weird down here, like the stove does sometimes right before it lights. I swipe the dusty wall with my hand, looking for the light switch, but I don’t find anything. The only light is a soft red glow from around the corner. I can feel my heart thumping away in my chest, in time with the steady tapping.
“Hello,” I call, but my voice barely travels in the dark.
I take a step and the wood creaks under me. This is like a horror movie and I’m the really stupid heroine.
I get to the bottom and turn the corner. And there is a wrinkled little creature, all huge luminous eyes and skinny limbs. It’s holding a pick-ax, which freaks me out because only serial killers seem to get a lot of use out of those, but after I look again I realize that the creature seems to be chopping a tunnel in the wall. It has stopped now, though, and it’s staring at me and still holding the pick.
“You’re keeping me awake,” I say with mock bravado. “Can’t you quiet down?”
“Noooo . . . must diiiig,” it says in a voice that’s little more than a whisper. “Gasssssss come from pipes. Sloooowly at first, like hissss of snake. Now worse. Choke or flame. Choke or flame. Must tunnel into a new building.”
That’s what the smell is. A gas leak.
I run up the three flights of stairs, run to our apartment, push open the door, and go right into my parent’s room. I shake my dad’s arm hard and he groans, eyelids fluttering.
“Gas leak,” I say. My voice comes out somewhere between a shout and a squeak. It seems to work, though, because he nearly falls out of bed.
Together, we go down to the basement. The creature is gone, but the tunnel is still there. It seems like there might be light at the other end. Maybe the what-ever-it-was actually made it into some other basement.
“You saved us, honey,” Dad says.
But I didn’t.
TAP. TAP.
—Keisha X.
ANALYSIS: At one time, knockers were found in mines and often warned miners of impending disasters. It is unclear what this one was doing in this apartment building.
—H. B. & T. D.
Here’s a creature I would expect to find in most basements:
Here’s what else I know about it:
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There once was a kid with extraordinary hearing. One day at school . . .
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An advertisement:
If I could hear stones speak,
My cover of a book about a creature that’s able to hear the earth speak:
My cover of a book about me:
Unusual objects I have found:
“They are master shape-shifters — clever, sly, and cruel. Strong, too, unfortunately.”
FROM BOOK 5: WRATH OF MULGARATH
OGRES
I’m not a scaredy-cat or a yellow chicken or any of those other things people call me. You would have screamed too.
So, I was going for my Order of the Arrow badge. To get it, you have to wear a stick around your neck, not talk, and sleep out under the stars without a pillow or blanket or any kind of comfort. It’s supposed to test your bravery.
But it’s not like you’re totally alone or anything. The scoutmaster puts up his tent and huddles in his cushy sleeping bag nearby. There’s usually a bunch of us going for the Order at the same time, so even though it feels like you’re alone outside, there’s probably another kid not too far away from you.
So anyway, I brushed together a bunch of leaves and twigs and whatever. Then I kind of climbed into it, shoving the stuff over me so just my head was visible. My plan was to combine camouflage and insulation. You know how if you get stuck out in the snow, you should build an igloo, because it is actually warmer? I thought that this would work the same way.
After I was settled, I had to try not to think about the weird scratchy feeling of all that stuff on top of me. It made me wonder what kind of worms or bugs could be crawling over my skin. I was concentrating so hard on that, I almost didn’t see the bear.
I bet you think that that’s when I screamed. Well, I didn’t.
Actually, I held completely, totally still. I think that’s why he didn’t notice me. He was a big bear with dull, brownish fur and a nose that gleamed wetly in the moonlight. He stood up on his hind legs and sniffed the air. For a terrible moment, I thought he was going to smell me. He thudded back onto all four paws, however, and walked a few more paces. But then he did something surprising—he changed.
Horns sprouted from his brow, his body thinned, and for a single moment, I thought I saw his eyes become slitted and gold like a cat’s. Then its legs got much longer, the bear claws morphing into black hooves. In one more blink of my eyes, I was looking at a stag. I must have made some small sound, because the deer-thing turned its liquid eyes toward me.
That’s when I screamed. You would have too. If I hadn’t shrieked my head off, it wouldn’t have run away and the scoutmaster wouldn’t have checked on all of us. If it wasn’t for me, the rest of the Order of the Arrow candidates could have been picked off, one by one. I think I should have gotten the biggest badge of all.
—Steven R.
ANALYSIS: Ogres are shape-changers, so it is sometimes difficult to tell when you have seen one. In this case, however, it was the shape-changing that gave the ogre away for what it was.
—H. B. & T. D.
This creature can morph into something completely different:
Here’s what else I know about it:
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True tests of bravery:
List of things I’d pack for a night in the woods:
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List of practical responses:
Creature trading cards:
Friend trading cards:
“The Black Dog of the Night. . . .
An ass or perhaps merely a sprite.”
FROM BOOK 3: LUCINDA’S SECRET
PHOOKAS
I used to get beat up a lot at school.
On the playground, I got hassled when the lunch monitors were looking the other way—but it wasn’t too bad because no one wanted to get in too much trouble. The worst was actually before I even got to school and when I got home. A bunch of guys at my bus stop would push me and throw my backpack out into the street. One time they filled my mouth full of dirty snow and I tasted the grit all day long.
I think some people are born knowing the right things to wear and like to make themselves fit in (or be invisible). Not me. I have a loud, braying laugh, and when I’m nervous, I talk and talk and talk. But back then, no matter how cool I thought something was, no one else agreed with me. Like UFOs and aliens —I know tons about them, but whenever I said anything, the other kids would roll their eyes.
Things got so bad that I started pretending to be sick. I would look up diseases online and pretend to have them. The first day my stomach would hurt, the next day I would claim I saw purple spots in front of my eyes. At first my mother was worried and kept me home, but after a while she got skeptical. I had to resort to hiding in my room so she’d think I already left for school. The best spot was the hamper. No one ever looked in there. Eventually, though, she got wise to that, too, and — inevitably —I had to go to the bus stop again.
