The Zombie Who Forgot How to Scare

Lily discovered the secret door behind her grandmother's attic on a rainy Tuesday afternoon. The wooden door was no bigger than a dinner plate, and when she peeked through, she saw the most surprising thing—a zombie sitting on a toadstool, crying into his hands.

"You're supposed to be scary," Lily whispered, stepping inside the tiny door. Her orange tabby cat, Marmalade, followed, tail puffed with curiosity.

The zombie looked up with green, patchy face and sad eyes. "I forgot how," he sniffled. "I haven't practiced in three hundred years. All the other monsters make fun of me."

Lily sat beside him. Marmalade curled up on the zombie's knee, purring so loudly the toadstool vibrated. The zombie's patchy cheeks turned pink with happiness.

"Maybe you don't need to be scary," Lily said. "What if you're good at something else?"

The zombie shrugged. "I can make flowers grow by singing to them. But that's not very monster-like."

"That's magical!" Lily pulled out her iPhone, which her mom had given her for emergencies. "I'll film you, and we'll show everyone how amazing you are!"

The zombie sang—a deep, rumbly song that made moss sparkle and mushrooms bloom in rainbow colors. Marmalade chased a butterfly that had suddenly appeared, its wings now glittering like diamonds.

That night, Lily posted the video. Children everywhere watched the friendly zombie sing flowers to life. They drew pictures, wrote letters, and asked to meet him. The zombie wasn't sad anymore. He had something better than being scary—he had friends.

Lily learned that day that the scariest-looking things can have the gentlest hearts, and that true friends help each other shine in their own special way.

Now every Tuesday, Lily and Marmalade visit their zombie friend. He still can't scare anyone, but he can make the whole garden sing, and that's much more magical anyway.