The Man in the Tree

                                             THE MAN IN THE TREE

         I was seven when I told Mommy about the man in the tree.  The man had been there looking at my bedroom window.  He had a mean face and a rough beard.  He scared me.

         He was there every night and even closing the blind didn’t help because I knew he was there.

         He always stayed in the tree and never came any closer but I didn’t like it that he was in my tree.  He wasn’t there in the daytime.  I know, I looked.  I wondered where he went all day until time to come back to the tree at night.

         I thought maybe if I told Mommy she would make the man go away or cut down the tree or something.  She wouldn’t like it if she knew a man was in the tree looking in my window.

         Mommy saw the man, too.  She said “Yes I see him but it isn’t a man.  Look, the man’s leg is a shadow of that branch.  It's the street light making shadows.  See?  And his face is a rough place on the bark.  She shined the big flashlight in the man’s face and it disappeared.  The man in the tree was a lot of shadows and a rough place on the bark!

         I laughed and hugged Mommy.  We looked at the man together and laughed. And that was the last time I saw him.

         228 words