Читать книгу Half-Minute Horrors - Литагент HarperCollins USD - Страница 11

TOM GENRICH & MICHÈLE PERRY

Tenton

Father said stuffed toys were childish. But at nine Ava still adored hers, most of all Tenton, the white rat. Tenton had velvety fur worn thin and long tickly whiskers, and traveled with her between Mom’s place and here. No matter what Ava’s fear, Tenton always knew how to comfort her.

One evening Father, as usual, nodded good night to Ava and closed the bedroom door. She heard his chair whine as he sat down to work again.

Shadows slowly lengthened into night. Under the covers Ava whispered, “I don’t ever want to go back to school. I hate it!” Something drove her to add, “You go, Tenton. You take my place.” Tenton’s red eyes glittered.

The next thing Ava knew, she was being tossed into the air like a rag doll. She hit the carpet yet felt nothing. In the half-light she saw a creature leap out of bed, a girl of sorts with shiny pale hair, her hair, wearing a pendant necklace, her necklace—but a girl who moved like a rat, scurrying stealthily on all fours. Ava screamed: no sound. She scrambled: no movement.

The girl-size rat crept over, red eyes deep with malice. Reflected in them Ava saw a little stuffed toy flung aside on the carpet, white limbs a-tangle, blue eyes wide with panic. Ava’s blue eyes.

The rat hissed and raced to the open window. A long naked tail snaked over the sill; claws clicked down the trellis. Then the sounds of movement faded.

In the morning Ava heard Father’s alarm, his shuf fling footsteps. “Ava!” he grunted. “Get up, or you’ll be late! Ava!”

Ava did what she could. Which was nothing.