The Night Octopus by Michael Dahl

Author:Michael Dahl [Dahl, Michael]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: fiction; Stone Arch Books; Michael Dahl's Really Scary Stories; JUV018000; JUVENILE FICTION / Horror; JUV058000; JUVENILE FICTION / Paranormal; JUV038000; JUVENILE FICTION / Short Stories; 9781496548993; 9781496554482; 9781496549112; 9781496549075; 9781474744218; 9781474744171; 9781496549037
Publisher: Capstone
Published: 2020-02-11T00:00:00+00:00

FLUSHED

The water swirled rapidly down the toilet with a loud gurgle. “Where do all the goldfish go?” asked Rachel.

“Down,” said her older sister, Pamela.

The two young girls stood over the toilet in their bathroom. They had just flushed another dead goldfish — the seventh or eighth? — into the swirling waters. Its final, fishy resting place.

Rachel peered into the water. “Do you think they’ll ever swim back?”

“They’re dead,” said Pamela. “They’re gone. The water flushes them out into the ocean or something.”

“What if this time the goldfish wasn’t dead?” Rachel worried aloud. “Maybe it was just sleeping. Sleeping looks like dead.”

“It was not sleeping. It was sick,” said Pamela. She lowered the toilet lid and walked back to their bedroom. Rachel followed close behind.

Pamela flopped down on her bed and picked up a magazine. “Goldfish get sick so easy,” she said, flipping the magazine pages.

“But everybody gets sick,” said Rachel.

“Not me,” said Pamela. “I don’t even get colds.”

Rachel sighed. Her throat was feeling scratchy. Her nose had been plugged up ever since she woke that morning too. Rachel hated colds.

“The fish wouldn’t have gotten sick if you hadn’t fed it too much,” said Pamela, without looking up from her reading.

“But it was hungry,” Rachel protested.

“How can you tell?”

“Its sad, sad eyes,” said Rachel.

“Fish eyes all look the same,” Pamela said.

Rachel coughed. She put her hand to her throat and rubbed it.

Pamela looked up quickly and stared at her sister.

“What?” demanded Rachel. “What’s your problem?”

Pamela’s eyes were wide and frightened. “Nothing. Never mind.”

Rachel looked away. She did not want to get a cold. Everyone would make too much fuss.

But the next morning, she couldn’t get out of bed. Her mother came into the bedroom, sat next to Rachel, and felt her forehead. “Oh dear,” said her mother. “It’s a fever.”

“I don’t have a fever,” mumbled Rachel from her damp pillow.

“Shh!” whispered her mother.

The woman looked around the room, as if afraid that someone was listening to them. She looked down at her daughter and shook her head. “And you looked flushed too,” she said.

“Flushed?” said Rachel quietly.

“Your face is all red, honey,” said her mother. “I’ll go get you a cold cloth for your forehead.” She bent down close and said, “I’ll tell your sister. Don’t worry, Rachel. I know you’ll get better soon.”

Rachel watched her mother walk out of the room. I don’t have a cold, she thought. I don’t! And Mom is right. I’ll feel better soon. It’s nothing.

The next day, she felt worse. Her temperature had risen. Her throat was raw and raspy. Her cough could be heard throughout the house.

Pamela came to look in on her sister. She stood by the door with a frown on her face. “Can you please keep it down?” she said. “Everyone can hear you.”

“I can’t help it,” said Rachel. Suddenly, she coughed again, long and loud.

Pamela looked out the window. “Too late,” she said.

Outside the house, two huge gold-colored fins reached down. The fins gripped either side of the building, raised it up in the air, and then began shaking it.

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