The Zombie Who Forgot How to Scare

Emma loved playing **baseball** in her backyard. Every afternoon, she'd practice her swing under the old oak tree. Her brown **hair** flew in the wind as she hit the ball higher and higher.

One day, the ball bounced into Mrs. Pennyworth's garden, where a grumpy old man lived. Or so everyone said. Emma tiptoed through the gate and found him sitting by a pond filled with orange **goldfish**.

"You again," he grumbled, his skin pale as moonlight. His clothes were torn and dusty. "I'm a **zombie**, you know. I eat children who bother me."

Emma giggled. "Zombies don't feed goldfish."

The man frowned. "These aren't ordinary fish. They're magical. Each morning I take my morning **vitamin**, then I feed them a special sparkle-crystal. Without it, I'd shuffle around forever, hungry and grumpy.

Emma's eyes widened. "You're not a real zombie?"

"Real enough," he sighed. "But I forgot how to scare people years ago. Now I just want to be left alone with my fish."

Emma felt sorry for him. Being grumpy must be lonely. "Want to play baseball?" she asked. "It's fun. You'll forget all about being a zombie."

Mr. Pennyworth hesitated, then shuffled to his feet. His first swing missed completely, but Emma cheered anyway. By sunset, the grumpy zombie was laughing as his goldfish swam in happy circles around their pond.

"Same time tomorrow?" he asked, almost smiling.

"Absolutely," said Emma, skipping home.

That night, Emma learned something wonderful: sometimes the scariest monsters are just lonely people who need a friend to remind them how to play.