The Barking Ghost

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For the zillionth time that night, I threw the covers off my legs and bolted up from the bed.

I definitely heard something that time.

And it wasn't the wind, either. I'm always hearing things. But no matter what I hear, Mom says, "It's just the wind, Cooper. Just the wind."

But the wind doesn't sound like heavy footsteps crunching through the leaves. And that's what I heard this time. Definitely.

I stood next to my bedroom window. Then I leaned over and peered out. It sure was spooky out there.

I squinted to see better in the dark. Don't lean over too far, I thought. Don't let whoever or whatever is out there see you.

My eyes searched the backyard. I lifted my head — and spotted them. A few feet away. Huge, black, gnarly arms. Reaching out toward the window.

Ready to grab me.

No. It was only the branches of the old oak tree.

Well, give me a break. I said it was dark out!

My eyes swept over the yard again. The sound. There it was!

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