You turn the nightlight on because the darktime is scary. The cool, smooth feel of the polished iron plate over the switch soothes you as the backs of your fingers brush over it – no fairies will be playing around with your nighty-nighty brighty-bright tonight.
The hide-behind on the other side of your bed is quiet tonight, which is atypical but not alarming. Sometimes it just gets tired.
The snallygasters beat their leather wings around your roof, producing a soft, steady rhythm that’s perfect for falling asleep to.
Your cactus cat scratches its myriad thorns on the back door begging to be let in, but you know you’ll just wake up to a prickly loveseat again if you acquiesce. Bad cactus cat – no cactus water for you!
Every once in a while you hear a tree fall nearby which is no surprise since it’s mating season for the splintercats. You wish they’d knock it off, though, or at least save it until morning because the agropelters keep picking the twigs and branches off of the felled trees and throwing them at your windows.
At three in the morning, just like every morning, the rest of the critters go quiet and you hear the stomping of hooves on your roof. You hide underneath your blanket and hope your nightlight will protect you. Jersey doesn’t like nightlights, and he hates blankets even more.
…but it’s best not to take chances.
You breathe as quiet as you can until morning.