Brianna May O’hara wasn’t happy at all, and it was Bob the Water Sprite’s fault.

Little Brianna May mumbled and grumbled like scorned children do, sending plumes of frosty breath into the winter air as she trudged home from school, scuffing with her feet the loose snowdrifts piled along Main Street. Having forsaken pigtails long ago, (about a year), because they were for kids and she was now a grown-up third grader, her ponytail swished back and forth in time with her angry steps, cooling her neck more. Of course, her old jester cap with tinkling bells had been nice and toasty, but she’d also outgrown that in exchange for a pair of stylish pink ear muffs – though truthfully, the jester hat had been much warmer.

Brianna’s troubled thoughts weren’t on her cold neck or accessories; rather, they were on today’s disastrous Show & Tell, when she’d finally decided to show Bob off to everyone, and had been laughed at for her troubles. She’d also been scolded by fat old Mrs.Van Wort for making up ‘silly stories’, (VanWort Face, they called her), and she was so mad, she didn’t feel a bit guilty using the mean nickname.

“Stupid VanWort Face,” she grumbled, “and stupid, stupid Bob!"

Be careful, a cold voice warned inside, keep talking like that, and maybe Bob will go away forever…
….and you’ll be all alone, like before.

Brianna shoved the thought deep inside her heart. She was angry with Bob, and lately things had been different between them – maybe even bad – but she’d never been alone like she used to be, ignored by her family and shunned by her classmates.

Brianna did not want it to be like that again.

The O’Hara’s modest little house on Spear Street was only two blocks away from Clifton Heights Elementary School, so paying the town fee to ride the school bus was “superfluous”; a big word Dad used a lot that Brianna guessed meant “silly”. Because it was silly and Dad didn’t want to spend the money, even though he made lots of it, she hadn’t ridden the school bus to or from school since the end of first grade.

And so because her family – like most today – was very busy; she usually walked home alone. Though her sometimes-nice, mostly butthead older brother Brian was willing to drive her to school in the morning, he couldn’t take her home because he always played sports afterwards. Dad often worked late, hardly ever making it to dinner, her dance recitals, or her soccer games; and lately Mom had been too busy to pick her up because of all the grown-up parties she threw at other houses; parties with weird names like Lia Sophia, Pampered Chef, and Domestic Delights.

A cold wind chilled her, and she shivered while hunching down into her jacket, feeling tired, cold, and mad. Somewhere deep inside, she knew she shouldn’t always be walking home alone.

Someone in her family should care enough to pick her up.

“Right,” she said, her teeth chattering slightly, “just like someone should be there to make supper so we don’t have to eat microwaved junk every night; like someone should do the dishes so I don’t hafta do them all the time.”

There were a lot of somethings that shouldn’t be; of which Brianna was well aware. Girls her age shouldn’t walk home alone all the time, Dads shouldn’t always work late and miss almost all their family dinners, dance recitals and soccer games, just like Dads weren’t supposed to make their little girls sad, either.

Of course, Moms shouldn’t be more interested in throwing Pampered Chef parties than being with her family, and girls her age shouldn’t have friends like Bob the Water Sprite – which wasn’t even his real name, as Brianna had found out last Halloween.

She sighed as she stopped at the corner of Main and Allen, glancing across the street at old man Giuseppe’s pizza place. The front window of Giuseppe’s Pizza & Wings, framed by deep, fire-engine red brick, throbbed with a welcoming glow, and though Mr. Giuseppe would probably let her sit there and get warm, she had no money for pizza. Soaking up the warm, oily odor of crust, sauce, and garlic without eating a slice would only be torture.

She sighed again, glanced down Allen to make sure no one was coming, and crossed the street, leaving the pizza place behind. All the while, she thought about Bob the Water Sprite and how he’d let her down by not coming to Show & Tell.

She wasn’t stupid; she knew girls her age were supposed to shop, download songs to their iPods, go to the mall, and watch “Hannah Montana” on the Disney Channel. She couldn’t help that she was different and didn’t like the things her friends did. Those things just weren’t for her.

She loved reading books of all kinds, and instead of “hanging out” at the mall, she liked to read in quiet, hidden places. Her favorite was the “Wood Den”; a small copse of trees behind her house whose lowest branches intertwined like a thatched roof, the floor a soft, quilted rug of browned pine needles. In the summer and early fall she hid there and read everything from The Brothers Grimm Fairy Tales tothe all of the Nancy Drew Mysteries and even Harry Potter, soaking up adventures and chilling tales like a big sponge. She’d rather read every day of the week and twice on Sunday than do whatever it was girls her age were supposed to do.

Meeting Bob had been the best thing ever, because he loved to tell her stories, as much as she loved to listen. This past summer, she’d spent hours sitting on the edge of Black Creek Bridge, which crossed Black Creek, right at the edge of town, listening to stories of Bob’s daring adventures as he’d fought off enslavement long ago to a wicked, evil witch named Morgan. He and his stories had changed her life, really and forever truly, and she didn’t know what she would’ve done if he’d never popped up from under the bridge that fine summer day as she crossed it, chirping merrily in what became his standard greeting, “Well, well, well! Who’s that, trip-trapping on my bridge?”

Unfortunately, things had changed. Even though he still told her stories she mostly liked, some of them had been a little scary lately, about the bad stuff Morgan the evil witch used to make him do. Also, he’d been a little mean towards her since Halloween, playing awful tricks on her, ike waiting until she’d almost crossed the bridge and then yelling, “BOO! I’m gonna gobble ya right up!” It scared her terribly, but he seemed to think it was very funny, indeed; and sometimes, Brianna wondered if maybe his joking threat to “gobble” her up was all a joke…or maybe…a little serious?

Something was different about him; and she never knew what he was going to do anymore.

“It’s like playing with Mrs. Snowballs,” she whispered as she neared Black Creek Bridge, “every time I pet her, I don’t know if she’s gonna hurt me or not.”

Mrs. Snowballs, her Aunt Sylvia’s cat, was old and losing its mind, and could never decide anymore whether it was a friendly lap cat, playful kitten, or bitter old feline marm who’d soon as take someone’s eye out than let anyone touch her. Lately, playing with Bob was the same way; she never knew what was going

to happen. He made her laugh often enough and still listened to her darkest secrets, but a couple times he’d been rude enough to almost make her cry.

“Sometimes,” she whispered, “I kinda wish you’d never showed up,Bob.”

Are you sure about that? the cold voice mocked. If Bob hadn’t come along, you would’ve spent the last year alone, as always. Is that what you want – to be alone all the time again?

She pushed the voice away, not wanting to listen, because she knew it told the truth.

She supposed she should’ve known better when he’d agreed to come to today’s Show & Tell, so she could finally show him off to her classmates. Even though the evil witch Morgan had imprisoned him underwater forever, he said it would be easy for him to come to school, because he could move around to any body of water he wanted. All she had to do was take a goldfish bowl or something like that to class, and he’d be able to come, easy-cheesy, because he could teleport to the goldfish bowl – or something like that, anyway.

The memory of standing in front of the classroom this afternoon, holding her empty goldfish bowl, trying to explain as the class quickly dissolved into a snickering mass of laughter made her face burn in the cold winter air. Cruel embarrassment flared again inside, though she tried to push it away.

She’d certainly had lots of fun with Bob over the past year; it had been wonderful to have someone to talk to. However, after today’s “Show & Tell” disaster, she wondered for the first time if maybe she shouldn’t talk to him anymore.

How could she possibly avoid him, though? There was no other way to her house except over Black Creek Bridge; it wasn’t like she could stop going to school, plus the town and the library, of all things, was across the bridge. That, if nothing else – her treasured world of books and reading – was enough for her to realize she had to cross the bridge every day.

She shook her head, despondent. She didn’t know what to do, and telling her parents or any grownup was out of the question. They’d just shake their heads and call her an imaginative kid, and that was it.

She was just out of town and about ten feet from the bridge when she heard it: a sharp bark, a pitiful canine whine. Claws scuffed the ground; the bark repeated, followed by another sad yip.

“Oh, jeeeeeeepers,” Brianna moaned, rolling her eyes, annoyed. She was cold and hungry, had gotten into trouble at school because of Bob, hated her teacher and her classmates, and was mad because her family didn’t love her.

She didn’t need this.

She turned and crossed her arms, glaring at the dirty, mangy, scraggly mutt following her: Captain Stinky, the Super Wonder Ugly Dog, as she’d named the dirty but friendly stray dog that had taken up residence in Clifton Heights over the past year.

There he stood on stiff, excited legs; dirty fur tufted by the winter wind. Scraggly ears perked up, tail wagging like window wipers, pink tongue lolling out in glee. Captain Stinky was a scruffy old Irish Setter; and he was smelly, dirty, and annoying. Dad had always told her to stay away from Stinky because “one can’t be too careful these days”, as he always said, “who knows when he had shots last; maybe he’s even got rabies, for God’s sake”.

She wasn’t worried about rabies, though; Captain Stinky just smelled bad, and though she liked to read instead of watch American Idol, she was still a girl, and smelling bad was bad no matter what you liked. Whenever she encountered Captain Stinky, the dumb dog always jumped around her with muddy paws, trying to slobber her with his tongue. She’d push him down and then he’d try to rub against her legs, running around in circles, yapping, generally making himself a “nuisance” – as Mom sometimes called her when she begged to go check out more books at the town library.

Eventually – though she hated to admit it - she tossed rocks and sticks and whatever else she could find until Captain Stinky kept his distance, barking happily and somewhat sadly all at once.

And here he was today, when she just wasn’t in the mood – thanks to Bob not showing up when he promised, and mean old Van WortFace sending her to the principal’s office for making up stories.

“Go away, Stinky!” she yelled, her nose wrinkling as she imagined the dog’s sour stench even this far away, “Just go away!”

Ignoring her, Captain Stinky barked; tail wagging and tongue curling while he trotted towards her.

Brianna clenched her fists and stomped the ground; she’d had enough. She turned and stalked off, fully intent on ignoring the dumb dog all the way home. She walked quickly, hoping to escape Stinky’s dirty fur and slobbery tongue, because if she had to shout or throw things at him, she somehow knew she’d feel worse than usual.

Her angry stalking faltered, however, as she came to Black Creek Bridge.

Everything was quiet; it was getting cold and dark out, most everyone was warm at home. It was just her, Captain Stinky, Black Creek Bridge, and if she crossed it…

Bob the Water Sprite.

Looking at the wooden, slightly arched bridge that crossed only a few feet above Black Creek itself, she remembered the first time she met Bob. It had been after one of her summer soccer games last July, and she’d been both mad and depressed because – as usual – no one in her family came to watch her play. Dad had promised to take the day off from work but hadn’t, Mom had booked an Avon party in nearby Boonville at the last minute, and Bryan – well, who knew where he’d been.

She was upset because she’d played her best game ever, and no one had been there to see. She’d scored two goals, made three steals, while every parent cheered their kids on, not her. Worse yet, after the game the whole team made a special trip to Pizza Hut over in Old Forge, and no one lived near her, so no one could give her a ride home. Not only had no one come see her play the best game ever, but she had to miss the team’s victory pizza party, and she had to walk home by herself – as usual.

It had been the worst day ever, until she walked over the bridge and heard those fateful, cheery words, “Well, well, well! Who’s that, trip-trapping over my bridge?” and found Bob, living in the water under Black Creek Bridge.

He’d changed her life, mostly for good….until lately; until today.

She closed her eyes, took a breath, and walked onto the bridge, ignoring the trailing Captain Stinky. She made it just about halfway across when her fragile hope she might make it without encountering Bob died as she heard his cheerful, gritty-gravelly voice…

“Hey, hey, hey! Who’s that trip-trapping on my bridge?”

At the sound of the voice that had let her down so badly today, Brianna’s anger flared. She stopped, stepped to the bridge’s edge, grasped the cold rail with mittened fingers, and glared at the iced over creek, under which the truant Water Sprite floated with his wide, toothy grin.

His soft, furry serpentine body stretched out for miles under the frozen creek, which never made any sense to her, seeing as how Black Creek was only four feet deep. Outstretched hands with four slender fingers pressed up under the ice, a patch of wavy tendrils on his head - looking like exotic undersea vegetation – rippled back and forth in currents Brianna knew couldn’t be there, seeing as how the creek was frozen and all.

Bob looked something of a cross between a fuzzy seahorse, a sea snake, and those wanna-be Muppets on The Cartoon Network called “Fraggles”. He sported catfish-like whiskers on either side of a long, narrow face, and even grew a small beard of the same wavy stuff growing on his head. He didn’t have any ears she could see, nor legs, his body ending in a triangular point. Along his back was a spinal ridge looking a lot like those on the iguanas in her science textbook at school, and it sparkled with an iridescent, shifting, ever changing kaleidoscope of colors.

Although he wasn’t exactly frightening, he wasn’t cute either, because there was something different about him. If she were grown-up, she’d say Bob was alien, but being only nine; she only thought he was weird looking.

Bob’s smile flashed rows of perfectly square, stubby teeth while he gravel-growled again, “What’s shakin’, ma belle? You look a bit out o’ sorts today, kiddo.”

Brianna scowled. “I don’t wanna talk right now, Bob; I’m mad at you.
“Go away.”

Bob spread his hands, grinning wider, stretching his narrow, rubbery face. “Aw come on, Baby Cakes – don’t be mad. I wanted to show up today fer Show ‘n Tell; I tried, honestly. But I keep’s tellin’ ya I can only come out when yer alone, don’t I?”

Brianna kicked the bridge. “You promised, Bob.”

Bob folded his arms, furry blue caterpillar eyebrows arching. “Lissen, Baby Cakes – I promised I’d try. I didn’t promise nothin’ about bein’ there for sure. You filled in those blanks on yer own, so ya got no one to blame but yerself.”

His chilly tone made her feel like a scolded little kid and she kicked the bridge again. “It’s not fair, Bob,” she whined, “all my friends are startin’ to think I’m nuts, and now VanWort Face thinks I lie and make stuff up, too. Howcum I can’t show you to anyone?”

Bob’s stern look vanished, his face softening as he folded his hands before him. “Aww, lookit ya – yer so precious when you get all mushy; I swear I could just eat ya right up.”

Brianna fidgeted uneasily. Her stomach always felt queasy when Bob said that, because of an odd, hungry twinkle in his eyes. Pushing her icky-stomach feelings down, she said, “Why’s it gotta only be me? Why can’t other people see you?”

Bob shrugged his furry shoulders, assuming an indulgent air. “Ah told ya, kiddo – it’s all that evil witch Morgan’s fault, remember? She got mad at me ‘cause I wouldn’t eat her enemies’ babies no more, and she cursed me underwater forever. Sucks, but I just didn’t wanna eat those anymore babies, ya know?”

“Hmm.” She tapped her foot. At first she’d thought it very noble Bob had risked eternal banishment by refusing to devour all the newborn babies of the evil witch Morgan’s enemies, but lately Brianna wasn’t so sure. There was always a hungry little gleam in his eyes when he talked about eating babies and how he’d wanted to stop – kinda like Dad had in his eyes a year ago when he’d quit smoking for only a month.

For some reason, she didn’t think Bob hated eating babies nearly as much as he said he did.

“Uhhh…Bob….” She swallowed; this was the hard part, because not only was she a little afraid of Bob, but she also loved him too, in a strange way. In a small town where most of the girls wanted to be like big city girls, life was lonely for an imaginative girl like her. Bob had been great company; his stories about fighting off evil wizards, battling trolls and dueling underwater monsters had filled her lonely days with color, wonder, and amazement.

Still, something was wrong. The gleam in his eyes bothered her deep inside. Probably the only good advice her father had ever given her – an offhanded comment made as a token ‘don’t do drugs speech’ – was that friends who made you feel uncomfortable were probably not friends, and she could no longer deny that Bob made her uncomfortable.

“Hey, Baby Cakes…turn that frown upside down, willya? You know what you can do to make it all better, right? It’ll be easy, and we’ll have tons of fun, too.”

Brianna stared at the kindly looking Sprite, pressing her lips together, remembering. Around Halloween, when things with Bob had still been good and fun and exciting, she’d expressed the wish that he could come out and play with her in the real world, for all everyone to see, instead of being stuck underwater, living under Black Creek Bridge.

He’d acted so overjoyed at this, Brianna had been deeply touched, thinking she’d finally found someone who loved her. He’d then confided in her, whispering quietly because he “never knew when Morgan’s spies still lurked about”, that the only thing needed to free him would be for someone in the real world to say his real name – which he then told her – three times.

It’d be real easy, too – because his name was only five letters long.

That had been months ago, though. She’d planned on saying it right away, on the same day as Halloween, because she figured it would be so neat to go Trick or Treating with a real live Water Sprite, while everyone else wore stupid costumes bought at the Family Dollar over in White Lake.

Something had held her back, though. Bob had said he understood, and he’d only brought it up a few times since then, and never acted that upset when she kept saying she wasn’t ready. She now wondered, though – with the way he’d been acting lately – if he hadn’t been madder than he’d let on

“You know my name, Brianna – my real name. Just say it three times, and I’ll be free. We can get into all sorts trouble – for real, ya dig?” He grinned, showing lots of teeth that looked much sharper than minutes ago, leaned closer to the ice, palms pressed against the frosty underside of the frozen creek’s surface. “You have no idea what wonderful things I can show you, Brianna,” he whispered.

She sucked in an icy, burning breath, eyes squeezed lightly shut. “No,” she said tightly, hands squeezed into little fists at her sides. “I won’t, and…and…..”

“Aw, c’mon,” Bob whined suddenly, “don’t such a little sissy, Bri….”

Brianna’s eyes snapped open, and she glared at the water sprite floating just beneath the ice; his form no longer oddly attractive or strange, but somehow disgusting. For the entire year Bob had been around, he’d never spoken like that to her, even the last couple of months. If Bob really was her friend, he would’ve learned one thing about her by now, for sure…
….nobody called her a little sissy.
Nobody.

“I want you to go away, Bob,” she pronounced; her anger making it much easier, “and never come back.
Ever.”

The stinging, cold air bit her skin as she gazed at the blue little Water Sprite, floating beneath the ice. All was silenced; the wind no longer blew and the sounds of winter – water trickling beneath ice, settling of snowdrifts, icicles tinkling in the wind – ceased, and even Captain Stinky himself had stifled his keening whine, sitting quiet at her side.

Bob merely looked at her, expressionless, round eyes suddenly dark, glassy pools of indeterminate depth. His tiny, furry blue chest rose and fell with breaths she knew were impossible because he was underwater; but other than that and the coiling of his long tail, he was dreadfully still.

Finally, his whiskers twitched, and his tongue – long, lizard-like, pink – slipped out and licked his lips. His face still empty, but eyes glittering, he growled, “Don’t even think about it, kid. I’ve gone through a lot of trouble to pick you – had to sort you out from a bunch of others – you don’t want to spit in my face, get it?”

His edged tone carved something cold in Brianna’s stomach, yet what he said touched off a nerve. “What do you mean?” she whispered, “What other kids?”

Bob smiled, showing teeth in an ugly, leering grin. “What, ya think yer the only one?” he sneered. “I got a whole laundry list of kids like you; a freakin’ little black book of whiney, snotty little kids with no friends, who ain’t got nuthin’.”

Brianna lurched back; Bob’s words like a slap to the face. The urge to flee clanged against her limbs, and though she opened her mouth; her tongue only flicked silently. She swallowed, throat tight, and finally wheezed, “No… that’s not true. You said I was your only friend; the only one in the whole world.”

Beside her, Captain Stinky pawed the ground and whined fretfully, but she was oblivious to this as her whole world shattered.

Bob’s nasty grin widened, showing more teeth than she thought imaginable – rows and rows of sharp, razor-like teeth – and he pressed himself against the ice. “Kid, I’ve got tons of friends, and they’re all just like you – weak, pathetic, and alone.”

Tears trembled on her eyelashes, and then stiffened and froze in the cold as she bit her lower lip, shaking her head quickly back and forth in short, jerky sweeps. “N-no,” she sniffed, her anger suddenly cooled by the weight of her loneliness, “s-stop staying that.”

The blue, fuzzy little monster – as she now thought of him – pushed back from the ice, folding his arms. “Oh come on, it’s true. Sorry princess, ya gotta grow up sometime. First of all, there’s little Timmy Johnson, living right at the end of South Street? He’s a pain; all he does is complain all the other kids beat him all the time ‘cause he like poetry and not sports. There’s also Samantha, you know – the one who wears all the eye shadow? She pretends she’s really dumb, so all the boys will like her, because boys don’t like smart girls, do they? Then there’s Billy Hopkins,” Bob counted each child’s name off on an extended blue, worm-like finger, “the fat kid with the big, thick black hair and all the pimples?” Bob rolled his eyes, releasing a long-suffering sigh. “Well, you can imagine what he whines about all the time…”

Fresh tears flooded her eyes, and she hugged herself tightly, shivering in the suddenly suffocating cold. She reeled with the torrent of names; Bob was lying, had to be, because all the kids he’d named were….

Bob’s laugh was slick, sliding, nothing like the warm chuckle she knew so well. “That’s right, sweetie, they’re all in your class; the little schmucks from this morning who laughed at you and called you weird – every single one of them knows me, and knows me well.”

The truth thundered down upon her; they’d laughed, pointed, called her horrible names, yet they knew she’d told the truth.

Bob smiled. “To be fair sweetie, I look different to them, and I show up differently, too. One kid I talk to through the TV; another over his short-wave radio – I show up on freakin’ Myspace with one looser – so in a way, they don’t know yer tellin’ the truth…”

His grin turned all teeth again, “But in a way, deep down, they do know, and think it’s funny.”

Captain Stinky barked once; loud, sharp, but all she could think about was Bob’s deception.

“Why?” she rasped. “Howcum so many kids? Why?” She stomped, her voice shrill. “Why?”

Bob shrugged. “I had ta find out which was the best kid, right? The best, strongest, most imaginative one to latch on to?” He waved a blue hand, adding, “I know I played ya, but I hadda do it ta find the best kid to let me outta here. I wanna bond with a sure thing.”

His words made little sense, but one in particular resonated with ominous meaning. “Bond,” she whispered, “what do you mean…bond?”

Bob leaned forward hungry hands caressing the ice. “That’s the best part, sweetie. When one of you free me, we’ll be pals forever. I’ll be on the inside; you’ll be on the outside, and we’ll have such fun….”

Brianna stood terribly still, part of her mind refusing to understand…but part of her understanding all too well….
I’ll be on the inside….on the inside…

Bob clapped his fuzzy hands together, rubbing them in glee. “C’mon, Bri….ya gotta see how much fun that’ll be.” Brianna shook her head, her face pale, cold against the wind. Bob rushed on. “Well, it’s great – because when I’m inside, I bring so many good things to the table. You’ll be able to see and hear things like never before, you’ll understand things no kid your age does – ace school for the rest of your life, howdya like that? – and you’ll be stronger, faster, heal from pain a lot quicker.”

He leaned closer to the ice again, piercing her with a penetrating gaze. “You’ll be able to do whatever you want; Brianna,” he whispered, “and you can have anyone you want, for the rest of your life. No more being alone. When I’m a part of you…everyone will want a piece of your action, savvy?”
The last two sentences caught like fishhooks in her heart; tugging, pulling, twisting, refusing to let go. She had the barest ideas of what Bob meant; all she could imagine were strange images of Bob playing with a Brianna marionette puppet – but the thought of having lots of friends and not being alone anymore…

She swallowed. Bob looked tender, almost forlorn. “I’m lonely too,” Bob said, “I know what it’s like, kiddo. All those other kids ain’t nuthin’ like you…”

In response, Captain Stinky – nearly forgotten – barked, snapping his jaws with a menacing click at the ice.

Bob narrowed his eyes, noticing the dog for the first time, and hissed sotto voice, “Bug off, mutt, this ain’t any of yer business…”

Brianna stiffened, clasping her hands to her tiny chest. The image of her entire class laughing at her because of Bob assaulted her mind, and her betrayed feelings resurfaced. “You’re lying,” she said, “you’re not lonely, at all – not with all those other kids…”

Bob smiled nervously, perhaps sensing his once-attractive bait was starting to sour. “Listen Bri, all those other kids don’t mean nothin’, ‘cause I’m pickin’ you, get it? Yer the one I wanta say the spell; the one I wanna bond with!”

Captain Stinky came alive, lunging and snapping his jaws at the Water Sprite hovering beneath the ice. Brianna looked on in wonder as she realized the dog not only sensed Bob’s presence, but could also see him, as well.

In a violent flurry, Bob slammed a small, furry fist into the ice, causing the puddle’s surface to shake, both Brianna and Captain Stinky jerking in alarm. “Beat it, dog! Go chase a cat, eat yer Kibbles n’ Bits, and leave us alone, for Pete’s sake!”

The lure of having lots of friends and being able to do whatever she wanted was gone. Somehow, because Captain Stinky could see Bob too, she no longer felt alone, no longer needed what Boboffered.

Bob’s genteel mask slipped back into place as he realized his mistake. “Listen, babe, this mutt ain’t lookin’ out for you; he just wants a nice warm bed and some good grub. Me, on the other hand…”

Brianna stomped her foot. “No,” she said spat, “I’m not letting you out, Bob. I’m not saying your name.”

Silence. Bob stared, hands closing and unclosing, whiskers and furry tuft of hair waving back and forth. Something glittered and flashed in his black eyes, and for the first time ever, Brianna knew what it was to stare death deep in the face.

Exploding, the Water Sprite attacked the ice, pounding and flailing and thudding with all his might, howling and thundering away. Brianna screamed, scrambled, slipped and fell to the cold, hard ground. She quaked in fear as she the ice trembled and even in some places cracked, as a green glow flared to life beneath the ice, spreading into the gray winter evening.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid little girl!” Bob yowled as he pounded, each blow harder than the last, shaking the ice worse with each impact. “Say my name and lemme outta here; lemme outta here now! I get outta here, I’m gonna tear you to shreds, you worthless piece of….!”

Captain Stinky leapt forward, something transforming his face from a good natured mutt to wild, fierce protector. He snapped at Bob, clicking his teeth, pawing and scratching the wooden slats of the bridge, as if desperate to get his jaws around Bob’s scruffy little neck and snap it.

Shame like she’d never known filled her, along with something else…relief. She was not alone; she would never would be again, at least not while Captain Stinky was around. Still afraid but now emboldened, she climbed to her feet on shaking legs, huddling close to the dirty Irish Setter, who no longer seemed to be all that smelly.

With an ear-splitting howl, Bob swung one last blow which struck the ice hard enough to convex it outward. Cursing, Bob spat, “You miserable dog! She’s mine, get it? Mine!”

Leering at Brianna, Bob placed his hands on serpentine hips and hissed, “There’s a small bit of the bedtime story I forgot to tell ya, sweet thing. Guess what happens to all the other kids when one of ya finally does set me free? After me and the lucky one bond, we get to have some fun; my kind of fun. First thing we get to do? Go settle with all the folks that’ve done us wrong, if you know what I mean.”

Brianna clung close to Captain Stinky, whose furry hide rippled with a menacing growl, to which Bob paid no attention as he leaned in, dark eyes glittering. “Oooh, that’s right, sister…if one of those other kids lets me out, and not you…I’m comin’ to you first, and then I’m having you and mommy and daddy and Brian’s guts for dinner, and no one will ever, ever know what happened.”

He flashed an evil smile, “And then the real fun will begin.”

Brianna said nothing, merely clung to Captain Stinky and buried her face into his scruffy fur, which no longer smelled like the town dump but mysteriously carried the scent of jasmine, roses, maybe even wild clover.

She was scared. She knew Bob probably would get out, someday, and would come looking for her, to do the bad things he promised. If he looked and sounded and even smelled like someone else, how would she ever know? She was just a little a girl and the thought of this horrible, terrible Water Sprite stalking her was more than she could bear.

“Let me out,” Bob cooed, “and we can have all the fun you want. I may ask for a few small favors now and then,” he shrugged, looking like an innocent blue Fraggle again, “but what’s a few tender, juicy babies compared to all the power and friends in the world, right?”

To her childish horror, a small part of her wondered just how bad eating a baby could really be.

With a great sob, Brianna choked back tears, trying to dry her face on Captain Stinky’s suddenly wonderful smelling fur. Oddly enough, the Irish Setter no longer barked or growled or quivered, merely stood stiff at attention, as if waiting….

….for her to make a choice.

“You’ve really got no choice, now do you?” Bob whispered, almost omniscient in reading her despair. “You’ve only got me, babe – and that’s it.”

Choice. Choosing. Her choice.

She had all the power; could say his name, or not.
He couldn’t do anything.

“But I can,” she muttered into Captain Stinky’s warm, soft fur. “I can….” she stopped, afraid Bob would hear, afraid she was wrong and the blooming magic inside would be destroyed when she whispered it, afraid it was simply untrue…
….I can make him go away.

Everything stopped. It was no longer cold, the wind stilled, and the sound of Bob’s voice faded from her mind. There was nothing but Captain Stinky and her, and the realization that she could make Bob go away.

“Well babe, what’s it gonna be? Are you an’ I gonna party, or am I gonna hafta find some other kid to hook up with, and then come back here and eat ya for dissin’ me?” Bob chuckled, raising his furry, blue-caterpillar eyebrows as he did so, looking impish. “I gotta be honest; I’m of two minds. Yer the best kid out of the whole lot, buuut…” he leaned forward, pressing hands and face against the ice, “I bet you’re also the tastiest, too. Either way – I’m gonna have a bellyful of kid-meat by tomorrow morning, that’s for sure.”

She threw her arms around Captain Stinky, hugged him once, drawing as much strength as she could from his warmth. She stepped away from the no longer ugly, smelly Irish Setter. Balling her little hands into tiny fists, she approached the bridge’s railing and looked at Bob the Water Sprite.

He looked his best at this moment, which made it much harder. Clownish blue face smiling, rippling, wriggling blue beard, fuzzy shock of hair floating, he looked nothing more than the Fraggle he’d always appeared to be. Beneath the surface, though, she saw the hungry gleam in his dark, deep eyes and the points of teeth hidden in the back of his mouth.

She swallowed, rocked back and forth, and squeaked, “No. Go away.”

Mock surprise registered on Bob’s face, but Brianna saw something else there, too.
Fear.
Fear of her.

“Brianna,” he reasoned with a smile, “it don’t quite work like that sweetie; you can’t order me away.” He grinned, blatantly exposing his teeth. “You just don’t have the power.”

Though he brimmed with self-confidence, she knew he was lying, again. “No,” she said in a firmer voice, emboldened by something splendid rising within, “that’s not true. I can do whatever I want; I can make you go away, because I don’t want you here anymore.”

His smile hardened, anger flowed from him. “If that’s what you want, sweetie, is to send me away to Timmy or Sally or Bonnie, so I can come eat your eyes out later, fine by me! Just remember you had your chance to…”

She stomped her foot, and to her childish delight, Bob actually flinched. “No! No more lies, Bob, no more, ‘cause even if you do go to someone else, you can’t hurt me – because I said no, I sent you away. You can’t touch me!”

With a roar that shook the ice and the heavens, Bob the Water Sprite exploded in all directions, swelling and growing into a rippling mass. No longer a little sprite, but now something a cross between a man, lizard, and snake, Bob was something ancient, and evil; her entire body went deathly cold at the sight.

“Listen girlie,” he screamed in a deep, hollowed out voice, “I AM DAGON! I get what I want, ALWAYS! I’ve kids like you for centuries, and I AIN’T about to be stopped now!”

LET! ME! OUT!” Each bellow was accompanied by a horrible blow of a horrible fist to the ice, which shook and heaved with great splashes of spectral green light.

Brianna closed her eyes, plugged her ears….and screamed back.
“GO AWAY!”

She screamed for the days and nights of loneliness, wondering where her family was, why they left her alone all the time. She screamed from the hole in her heart where “Daddy” and “Mommy” were supposed to be; black, aching holes that hurt all over. She screamed and screamed and screamed for the best friends she didn’t have, the sleepovers she never went on, and the parties she never went to.

She screamed for the stories that were her life, because she sensed – she knew – deep down in the dark place inside, that if she said Bob’s true name, she’d never have a story of her own, ever again.

She screamed for herself.

The instant the words left her lips, a something exploded from the icy, watery depths below. Ice and water and snow and frost flew everywhere, shards of coldness biting into her skin. The blast’s force threw her backward and she fell, arms and legs akimbo, hands flailing for purchase and finding none, feet thrown out from underneath her. Everything was bathed in a green glow, the air rent by a horrible, inhuman scream born of darkness. Obscenities and brief, horrific images scalded her mind and then faded instantly, as something wicked which had been coming now fled, intent on leaving behind whatever mark it could.

Brianna fell back, thumped her head on the ground, and everything went black.
* * *

A snuffling filled her ears, undercut by a soft murmuring - the wind, perhaps. A high-pitched whining punctuated the muffled sounds, occasioned by a snort and some more snuffles…

Something wet and rubbery ran down her check, over and over, licking, lapping, bathing her.

Brianna May O’hara’s nostrils twitched, as she caught a faint whiff of rotten leaves, sour smelling garbage… and maybe even poop, for Pete’s sake….

..with just a hint of jasmine, roses, and wild clover lingering underneath.
But still, it was pretty smelly.

A quick, sharp bark and Brianna woke to the sight of a black, wet, smelly nose and a ginourmous pink, wet tongue descending from above.

“EWWW!” She shrieked, and scrambled to a sitting position, flapping her hands and pushing away Captain Stinky the Wonder Ugly Dog, which only wafted around his putrid smell even more. Worse yet, because the mangy old Irish Setter had apparently been licking her face and fawning over her for the past several minutes, when she looked down and sniffed herself…

“Aw, gross,” she wailed, and then glared at the smiling dog. “Stinky! I smell like you! YUCK!” She raised a hand to shoo him away…

…and her gaze caught Stinky’s, which was pretty thoughtful for a dog. The wheels spun and whirred in Brianna’s head, the sour garbage scents faded from her nostrils, as the fog over her mind cleared.
She remembered.
Bob. Dagon. Baby eater.

She scrambled to her feet, frightened yet hopeful. Captain Stinky instantly sidled up to her and she reached out and pet him, unmindful of horrible smells as she peered over the bridge’s guardrail at the broken, splintered patch of ice on frozen Black Creek.

Nothing was there, save the winter trickling of muddy water, stone, pebbles, and maybe a brown stick or two.

She cocked her head, listening. Maybe he wasn’t gone and was hiding, waiting to pop up the first time her back was turned. Maybe Timmy Johnson or Bud Jenkins or Chris Baker would show up on her doorstep tomorrow, with a strange, hungry glint in his eyes.
She listened for sounds she couldn’t hear, motionless, still.
There was nothing; splendid, wonderful nothing.

She looked down at Captain Stinky, the Wonder Ugly Dog, and smiled as she pet him, his kind, suddenly wise eyes all the reassurance she needed.

She repositioned her hand and scratched his head between the ears, and he cocked his head in tune with her fingers, angling himself to get the best scratching reception. She smiled and said, “Mommy and Daddy are just going to love you, Captain Stinky, but I think you need a new name.” She sniffed again and her nose wrinkled, but she smiled too. “Plus, you really need a bath.”

Captain Stinky the Wonder Ugly Dog – soon to be named something sweet, kind, and appropriately fluffy – barked once, as if in total agreement. Brianna nodded. “Let’s go home.”

Brianna May O’hara walked across Crossman Creek Bridge with her new friend, leaving Black Creek and nothing else, the shadows of the coming night growing longer and silent, though all was well with the world.

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