In only 100 words, a ghastly fiend frightens a young boy camping in his back yard.
|Mark lay in his sleeping bag in his backyard. His sister let him sleep outside, but he could not sleep. A ghostly nightgown, fluttering in the wind by the house, terrified him. A phantom hand beckoned, and Mark, rising, moving forward, stopping in front of this apparition. The fiend reached out. Panicking, Mark swung his arm, his Boy Scout knife slicing and blood spurting forth. Within seconds, the phantom lay on the ground, dead. How could a ghost die? Slowly rolling it over, he incredulously stared into his sister’s lifeless eyes. She held a chocolate chip cookie in her hand.|