Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Coda
Frank Endicott was a worrier.
He worried a lot.
He worried about leprosy (who wouldn’t worry about leprosy?) and lions (they were such alarmingly violent creatures). He worried about tests (not being properly prepared for them), black holes (what happened if you got sucked into them?), and armadillos (transmitters of leprosy).
Frank worried about alligators. They looked sluggish and slow moving, but in fact, they were not slow moving at all. Alligators could move very, very quickly when they were motivated to do something — eat you, for instance.
Frank worried about submarines (getting trapped on one), brown recluse spiders (being bitten by one), vampire bats (carriers of rabies), and rabies (which could kill you).
Also, Frank worried about goats.
There was no good reason to worry about goats, but Frank worried about them nonetheless — their eyes were so unnerving and otherworldly.
Frank had so many things that he worried about that he kept a notebook exclusively for his worries. He listed the worries alphabetically. He indexed them and cross-referenced them.
He felt that his worries were legitimate — fact based and solidly researched (except, perhaps, for the goat worry) — but Frank was embarrassed by how many worries he had.
Were his worries out of control?
Was his worrying excessive?
It worried him to think so.
Frank had a little sister named Stella, and (he couldn’t help it) it worried him to think that Stella would discover his notebook and read the gruesome facts recorded within its pages and become a worrier herself.
And so, Frank started hiding the worry notebook under his bed.
And that’s when the nightmares began.
They were terrifying — filled with goat eyes and speedy alligators and vicious lions and all-consuming black holes. And also, armadillos.
Sometimes, the dreams were so terrible (being stuck on a submarine with an armadillo, for instance) that Frank woke up screaming, and Stella had to come into his room and kneel by his bed and hold his hand and tell him that everything was going to be fine, that he was safe.
Frank appreciated her kindness very much, but he was also somewhat dismayed by it. He was the big brother, after all; he should be comforting her.
After several nights of nightmares, Frank took the notebook out from underneath the bed. He moved it downstairs to the hall closet. He put it on the top shelf.
The nightmares, alas, continued.
Frank decided something had to change.
And so one day after school, Frank went over to the Lincoln sisters’ house and knocked on the door.
Eugenia Lincoln answered. She looked slightly annoyed. But then, Eugenia Lincoln always looked slightly annoyed. Frank was used to it.
“Yes, Franklin?” she said.
“Good afternoon, Miss Lincoln,” said Frank. “I was wondering if I might use your encyclopedias to do a bit of research.”
“Certainly,” said Eugenia, who approved of research. “I extend you carte blanche.” She held the door open wide.
“Thank you,” said Frank. He went into the Lincoln sisters’ living room and stood before the Bingham Lincoln Encyclopedia set. The books had been written by the Lincoln sisters’ grandfather, Bingham Lincoln, and they were very old. The entries were dense and comprehensive and featured many colorful and instructive illustrations. Reading one entry naturally led to another entry and then another volume, and a slowly burgeoning belief that the world was an orderly, reasonable place — a belief that Frank very much wanted to subscribe to.
“Make sure you return everything to its rightful place,” said Eugenia Lincoln.
“Yes, Miss Lincoln,” said Frank.
Baby Lincoln stuck her head into the living room. She said, “Hello, Franklin. Grandfather Lincoln would be so happy to see how you appreciate his encyclopedias.”
“Franklin is engaged in research, Baby,” said Eugenia. “Do not disturb him.”
“Yes, Sister,” said Baby. Baby always agreed with Eugenia. Or at least she pretended to.
Baby Lincoln and Eugenia Lincoln disappeared, and Frank settled in with the encyclopedias. He followed the “nightmare” entry to the “ancient myth” entry. He read about night witches and demons and goblins and trolls. He read that in some cultures, there were mythical creatures that actually consumed nightmares. Wouldn’t it be wonderful to have someone sit at the foot of your bed and eat your nightmares?
But where could Frank find a creature bold enough to face his nightmares and hungry enough to devour them?
Suddenly, Frank had an idea — a marvelous idea, a comforting idea.
He closed the encyclopedia with a decisive thump. He gathered up his notebook and his pencils and pens.
“Thank you very much,” he called out to the Lincoln sisters.
“I hope you returned everything to its rightful place,” Eugenia shouted back.
“Come again,” said Baby.
Frank left the Lincolns’ house and went down the street and knocked on the Watsons’ door.
Mrs. Watson answered. “Frank,” she said. “How lovely to see you.”
“Hello, Mrs. Watson,” said Frank. “I have a somewhat unusual request.”
“Yay, yay!” said Stella. “It’s a slumber party with a pig. I want to sleep in here, too!”
“It’s not a slumber party with a pig,” said Frank. “It’s a scientific experiment. I will keep you posted as to its efficacy. In the meantime, I will have to request that you sleep in your own room.”
“Shoot,” said Stella. “I never get to have any fun.” She turned and left Frank’s room very slowly.
“Now,” said Frank. He looked at Mercy. He stared into the pig’s eyes. He said, “I need you to stay awake. I need you to consume my nightmares. Do you understand?”
Mercy stared back at him. She blinked.
Frank wasn’t sure that she comprehended what was expected of her. It was hard to tell what pigs were thinking. Their eyes were so small.
Frank got into bed. He said, “Stay right there, Mercy. Stay vigilant and true.”
The pig snorted.
Frank turned off the light.
“Okay,” he said to the darkness and to the pig, “here we go.”
Frank dreamed about a
