Mr. Crook rode his horse drawn carriage into the old town square.
He had a plan.
Once the carnival was in full gear, he unveiled a massive red box to
the curiosity of the onlookers.
"A dollar a guess my fine friends! Winner gets what's inside!
Revealed by tonight's full moon!"
People gathered together into a line that stretched until the distant faces
appeared to be dabs of paint on an evening canvas.
One by one they tore off a piece of paper, wrote their guess - and
dropped it into the black top-hat.
Some guessed several times.
Once the top-hat was full, Mr. Crook smiled. "I wish every
town was this easy." He thought to himself.
The townspeople retreated to supper and song, knowing they had until
midnight before he revealed the winner.
Mr. Crook packed up his money, and rode away from the town, his top-hat
upturned beside him with the unborn guesses and hope of others.
He had plenty of time, and so he relaxed. The moon was rising.
In less than one hour the townspeople would return to an empty horse
corral, and Mr. Crook would be far from touch.
As Mr. Crook grew sleepy, he did not notice the slips of paper that
held the townspeople's guesses - gently floating away in the desert
night...leaving a trail right to him.
Just then a massive red thing exploded from the box behind him, splinters
shooting through the night like the desert stars overhead.
Mr. Crook was shocked and bewildered. He knew what was inside
the box, it was a simple child's toy, a ratty old doll...barely worth
the dollar he charged to guess. It WAS NOT this demon before him.
Before he could consider his situation, the thing ate him down with
one big gulp.
The thing did not know what it was, but it heard people's thoughts,
and it was no demon. It followed the trail of white
papers back until it stood over one piece that seemed to call to it.
Its master's name was Nathan Jones Jr. age 5. And Nathan's
guess was a drawing that looked just like the red thing now holding
it. It smiled, now knowing to whom it belonged.
Nathan was its creator. It was his imaginary pet.
The thing awkwardly placed Mr. Crook's top-hat upon its oblong head
and followed the trail of guesses and greed back towards the old
town. It was almost midnight as it strode toward the town center,
in search of its creator.
The end.
