Thinking that I was never going to get a good night’s sleep in this new house, I crept down the stairs. I wished I had some sort of weapon to bring with me. Why did I get rid of all my baseball bats? Pale moonlight was filtering in through the windows, and it was eerily silent as I crossed the living room—well, aside from the creaking floorboards. I headed for the family room, where the door to the backyard was located. On the way I scooped a big rolling pin off of the kitchen counter; it would have to do.
Stache had been painting the family room all day, so there were no curtains on the large rectangular windows. As a result the moon was illuminating the entire room, and I could make out the dark, brooding wall of the forest at the edge of the yard. My right hand tightened on the rolling pin as I approached the door. The voices had stopped.
I reached the glass door and pressed myself against it, listening for movement. All I could hear was the wind rustling through the leaves, as if whispering for me to go back. I really didn’t want to go out there, but I had to have a look now or I’d never be able to sleep. I slowly turned the old bronze handle, lifting the rolling pin with the other hand.
I eased the door open and peeked outside. Nothing. It was a cool night, and the wind cut through my flannel pyjamas and chilled me right to the core. I was just closing the door when I heard them again: quiet, rasping voices. It was hard to make out what they were saying, but it sounded like, “We need your help.”
“Eldon?” I whispered. “Is that you?”
Brandishing the rolling pin, I stepped out onto the sprawling back patio. The cement slabs were crooked and cracked and covered with weeds, and they felt very cold on my bare feet. I took a few steps from the door, peering into the heavy darkness.
“Eldon?”
That’s when I heard the rusty hinges on the back door slowly closing. I instantly straightened, feeling tingles running through my entire body.
There was something behind me.
I turned just in time to see the door click shut. Standing in front of it was a creature I recognized instantly from the guide. Its skin was a mossy, sickly green, like it had just emerged from a swamp, which only added to its witch-like hooked nose and protruding mouth, flashing with yellow teeth. It was wearing a rusted black chest plate marked with dents and scratches and holding a crooked sword in one of its slender hands. I recognized the eyes from the woods: large and yellow, with pupils like a snake.
I just stood there, unable to scream or run or fight. The goblin lifted the crooked sword over its head with two hands, ready to bring it down in a killing blow.
“Bad move, Monster Crusher,” it whispered in a raspy, awful voice.
That woke me up. I turned and ran just as the goblin swung the sword, and I heard the metal clang off the concrete. I sprinted for the edge of the house, trying to get to the front door. Forget Eldon’s warning—I was going to lock the doors and call the police.
I was just turning the corner toward the front when a second goblin charged out of the shadows with a long black spear. I saw him just in time to dive face first into the grass, narrowly avoiding the deadly sharp tip as it sliced through the air where I’d been standing. I slid across the damp grass and then tried to scramble back to my feet as the goblin turned toward me, its big yellow eyes flashing in the darkness.
It stabbed at my stomach with the long spear before I was even up, and I just managed to knock the point aside with the rolling pin, slamming it downward. The spear jammed into the grass, getting caught in the dirt, and I got up and took off running again.
“Help!” I screamed. My parent’s room was upstairs in the front of the house, but Tom would hear me and wake them. “Help!”
The first goblin suddenly crashed into me, knocking me right off my feet. I hit the ground hard, the rolling pin flying from my hands. I rolled over a few times and then flopped over hard, lying flat on my back. I looked up in terror as the goblin stepped over me, raising the sword once again. I saw its sharp yellow teeth glinting in the moonlight as it smiled, and I knew it was about to kill me. I didn’t even have a chance to scream.
The sword was halfway down when a black arrow tip suddenly emerged from the goblin’s stomach. The goblin looked down in shock, grasping at the wound, and then toppled forward. I just barely rolled out of the way as it crashed into the grass beside me.
The second goblin turned in panic as a shadowy figure came sprinting out of the woods, drawing a gleaming silver sword. The goblin never had a chance: the shadowy figure easily dodged a desperate jab of its spear and plunged the sword into its stomach.
As the goblin hit
