Hey! I’m the nice one. The rest of them are all right, I suppose, but I’m the one people really like. Some say it’s my great big witchy house they like. Some say it’s my deep, dark, spidery basement with the window that keeps opening and closing no matter how tightly I latch it. Others say it’s really Hugh Shalby Nameless, my very own black kitten, that people like. I know it can’t be Much Misunderstood, my pet toad, because everyone hates him, except me. Anyway, whatever the reason, they all come here every year, every Halloween, for a sleepover, and we have the Nightmare Club. We all huddle in our sleeping bags (some of them bring their teddies, but I pretend not to notice), and we tell each other ghosty stories deep into the night and we scare each other half to DEATH! The Nightmare Club is all about having nightmares and telling about your nightmares and giving everyone else nightmares. I maybe forgot to mention the “true rule.” The stories are supposed to be true. Because that’s much scarier than fake stuff.
