The Dark-Thirty

by Patricia McKissack

  If little Tissy went inside, she was a goner! I had to do something—and fast.

  “Here, biddy-biddy-biddy.” I imitated Ma Franky calling her hens. Tissy heard my voice and stopped. That was the split second I needed. Dashing forward, I scooped up my little chick and swerved to keep from plunging headlong into the monster’s den.

  No tears this time. I was mad, so I foolishly broke rule ten—never let the monster see you angry.

  “Hey, Chicken Neck! You’re a real creep, Creep! Why pick on a little bitty innocent chick? Mess with somebody your own size!”

  Like who did I have in mind? How dumb could I get? My anger had made the monster swell with fresh power. If I kept breaking rules like that, the creepy thing was going to get me for sure.

  * * *

  At last a letter came from Jay.

  July 18,1960

  Dear Missy,

  Never got your first letter. The monster must have eaten it. Beware!

  The MWA met today. I read your letter to them. We all agreed you’re okay as long as you don’t break rule one: Don’t face a monster alone!

  The MWA went to see The Werewolf Returns five times. We’re going again today. We miss you. Come home soon.

  Your friend,

  Jay

  P.S. Are you going to bring Tissy with you?

  Hearing from Jay and my friends helped ease my mind a little. The MWA was right. Nothing could happen to me unless I made the number-one mistake. So I stayed on my guard, ready for any tricks.

  That evening the six Harper kids came down to play hide-and-seek. Mae Lizabeth, who was my age but three times my size, smelled like lilac talcum powder all the time. She had a likable way about her that made me feel comfortable. During the summer we had become almost friends.

  “Come be my partner and hide with me,” I said.

  Mae Lizabeth pulled me along behind her. I suggested we hide behind the shrubs along the front porch.

  “Come on,” she said. “Let’s hide in the chicken coop!”

  I jerked away. “No! Don’t …”

  “Why? It’s the perfect place to hide.” Suddenly my almost-friend rushed toward that dreaded spot.

  I could feel the monster’s excitement. My warnings didn’t stop Mae Lizabeth from going inside. When she disappeared into the darkness, I started screaming. At the same time Mae Lizabeth let go a bloodcurdling cry. I knew without a doubt my friend had been devoured.

  Daddy James, moving like a man half his age, reached the backyard first. Ma Franky puffed along behind him fussing, “We’re too old to be going through this, James.”

  Mae Lizabeth staggered forward, terror and pain twisting her face. She was holding her arm. Blood oozed from a deep gash and trickled down her hand.

  Well, the monster hadn’t swallowed Mae Lizabeth, but he’d taken a good-size bite out of her arm. Actually, I felt relieved. Now everybody would know that I’d been right all along.

  Ma Franky scooted me off to the house to get the first-aid kit. “Seems like this nail scratched you,” she was saying when I got back. And Daddy James looked and nodded his agreement.

  A nail? Oh, no! They couldn’t be faked out by that old monster trick. No nail had attacked Mae Lizabeth. I moved in close to get a good look at the wound. “It was the monster!” I shouted. “I bet he did this with his sharp claws. Tell them, Mae Lizabeth. Tell them!”

  Mae Lizabeth’s eyes opened wide. “Huh? Oh, yes, I saw it … It got me.”

  The monster was hiding deep in the shadows, but I felt it stir. Oh, no, I thought. I was breaking monster rule seven: Never lie about seeing a monster. I hadn’t lied, but I’d made my friend lie.

  “Stop, Mae Lizabeth. You didn’t really see anything, did you?” said Daddy James.

  The girl shook her head.

  “And neither did you, Missy,” Ma Franky put in. “Tell me the truth. Have you ever really seen anything in that coop?”

  “No,” I answered, but hurried on to add, “That’s how they fool you.”

  “Hush! Hush this minute,” Ma Franky said sternly. “There’s nothing in that old coop to hurt anybody.”

  “Oh, yeah?” I sassed back. “Well, what’s that running down Mae Lizabeth’s arm? Tomato juice?”

  Daddy James pulled me behind him. “Don’t speak to your grandmama that way,” he said in a stern voice.

  “I’m sorry for sassing Ma Franky.” And I really was sorry. Lies. Sassing. None of this was me! That thing in the coop had made my summer miserable. I wanted to hate it, but that would break rule eight.

  The Harper children stared in wide-eyed amazement while Ma Franky bandaged Mae Lizabeth’s arm. Then Daddy James and I walked them home.

  “It’s a water moon,” he said on the way back, pointing out how hazy the full moon looked. “It’ll rain ’fore morning.”

  Most of the time Daddy James was right about things like that. He had his own way of understanding the world, and he’d taught me how to see things differently, too.

  For a while we walked in silence. “Missy,” he said at last. “Tell me about the monster in your grandmama’s chicken coop.”

  What? Was my very own grandfather a believer? I tested him. “Ma Franky doesn’t think it exists.”

  “I know. But monsters are sneaky like that,” he said. “They want people not to believe in them.”

  How lucky could a kid get? My grandfather knew about monster tricks. He listened while I talked about Jay, the MWA, and all ten monster rules.

  “I’ve never really seen the thing in the coop, but I can feel it. And once this summer I saw its shadow. It was big! Since it lives in a chicken coop, I bet it looks a lot like a big chicken.”

  “Makes sense.”

  “I imagine it’s got two big yellow eyes that glow in the dark, razor-sharp scales, and three-fingered claw hands and claw feet. It stinks like a sewer.”

  “That sounds like a pretty powerful monster,” he said, chuckling softly. “It was a long, long time ago, but a monster like that lived in the crawlspace under my house.”

  “Really?”

  “The thing had me so scared I couldn’t even play in my own yard. Then one night I decided to face my monster.”

  “You broke monster rule one?”

  Daddy James laughed. “Is that the rule that says you shouldn’t face a monster alone?” I nodded. He went on. “ ’Spec I did. But to keep that ol’ slinky, slimy thing from beatin’ me down, I had to take it on face to face.”

  “Was it ugly?”

  “It was all the way ugly!”

  “Was it mean?”

  “Oooo-weeee. It was mean like a snake. But I found courage that night long ago.”

  “Tell me what happened!”

  “I called that monster out, and when it came, I stood flatfooted and looked at it straight in the face.”

  “Weren’t you scared?”

  “At first. But as I held my ground I got stronger and it got weaker. Then I said, ‘I’m not afraid of you. Now git gone!’ Next thing I knew, it had run off hollering.”

  “Did it ever come back?”

  “Oh, every now and then one tries to scare me. But that monster long ago must have told all its friends that I wasn’t easy to scare, ’cause I ain’ been bothered too much down through the years … till now, that is.”

  I was so excited. Daddy James was a monster fighter. “Good! Then will you chase the creepy thing in the chicken coop away?”

  “I could. But it ain’ troubling me. If I run it off, it’ll just come back and devil you some other way. To be rid of it forever, you must call it out and face it by yourself.”

  “You mean break monster rules one and two? That’d be like facing Dracula in his castle, at night, all by myself! I wouldn’t have a chance.”

  “You can do it. You’re my granddaughter, and that makes you very special.”

  The short walk home had taken over an hour. Ma Franky had homemade peach ice cream waiting. I didn’t feel much like eating, knowing what
was before me.

  Mustering my courage, I hugged Ma Franky and Daddy James, just in case I didn’t get back. “There is no fear in love,” he whispered.

  Breaking every rule in the monster manual and trusting my grandfather completely, I went to face the creature within.

  “You Chicken Creep. Come out and face me.”

  Heat lightning zippered across the sky. Thunder grumbled in the distance. Slowly the coop door creaked open. The monster’s foul odor sprang at me from its dark hole. The wind picked up, sending wind eddies scampering into the dust. All at once a scratchy moan followed by an awful commotion chilled me to the bone. “Ssss-flip-kkkkk-flop, ssss-flop-kkkkk-flop!” The thing was at the door. I waited breathlessly, not knowing what to expect. Running crossed my mind, but Daddy James’s words helped me stand firm. And I did.

  What a surprise to see Ma Franky’s rooster flap and flutter out of the dark hole with one of his feet stuck in a tin can.

  “Another trick,” I said boldly. “You can’t distract me.”

  The wind whipped and churned the trees. The thing’s anger roared out of the dark gaping hole. It wanted to get me. Why wouldn’t it come? Suddenly I realized it couldn’t! I was getting stronger and it was getting weaker.

  Armed with the powerful weapon my grandfather had given me, I yelled over the whistling wind, “I’m not afraid of you. You’re just a lot of hot stinky air.”

  I heard scurrying about inside the darkness. I waited and waited, hardly noticing that it had started to rain.

  Then calling upon the growing courage within me, I turned my back on the monster, saying with confidence, “I am the oldest granddaughter of James Leon Russell. He loves me, and I know it!”

  And that’s when I knew that my monster was gone!

  Patricia C. McKissack is the distinguished author of many books for children, including A Million Fish … More or Less, illustrated by Dena Schutzer; Nettie Jo’s Friends, illustrated by Scott Cook; and Mirandy and Brother Wind, illustrated by Jerry Pinkney and winner of a Caldecott Honor. She makes her home in St. Louis, Missouri.

  Brian Pinkney has won critical acclaim for his scratchboard technique of illustrating, including Caldecott Honors for The Faithful Friend by Robert D. San Souci and for Duke Ellington: The Piano Prince and His Orchestra by Andrea Davis Pinkney. A graduate of the School of Visual Arts, he lives in Brooklyn, New York.