It was long past midnight when the Horror appeared at the end of Westmoreland Road. No one in the run-down housing estate saw it. No one heard it as it burst through the washing lines of the poky little gardens.
Reaching number thirty-three, Savannah Grey’s house, the Horror dropped its star-shaped head on one side, knotted its murderous claws behind its back and tried to work out the most entertaining way to reach her bedroom. There were many ways available, but the Horror was young and like all young things it liked to use its teeth.
Biting a path up the brickwork, it anchored its incisors into Savannah’s window ledge. Then, thrilled with excitement, it raised its single cobalt-blue eye to the night winds and howled.