The Zombie Who Loved Baseball

Leo loved **running** around the baseball diamond, his cleats clicking against the dirt. Today was the biggest game of the summer, and Leo was up to bat. He gripped the bat tight, swung with all his might, and—CRACK! The ball soared into the clouds and kept going, higher and higher until it disappeared.

Leo chased after it, running past the familiar streets until he reached a place he'd never seen before. A shimmering golden **pyramid** rose from the sand, with a towering **palm** tree growing right from its tip.

"Hello?" Leo called.

The pyramid's door creaked open, and out shuffled a figure. Greenish skin, ragged clothes—a **zombie**! Leo gasped, but the zombie didn't moan or groan. Instead, it held out a bony hand.

"You found my lucky ball," the zombie said gently. "I haven't played in three thousand years."

"You play baseball?" Leo asked, amazed.

"I was the greatest player in ancient Egypt," the zombie smiled, and suddenly he didn't seem scary at all—just lonely. "Will you play with me?"

Leo nodded, and they played until the sun began to set. The zombie moved slowly but could hit the ball farther than anyone Leo had ever seen.

"Thank you," the zombie said, handing Leo a magical golden baseball card. "Whenever you need a friend, just hold this card. And remember—things aren't always what they seem."

Leo appeared back at the baseball field just in time for the winning run. From that day on, he never judged anyone by how they looked, and sometimes, when he held the golden card tight, he could hear the faint echo of a bat cracking against a ball, carried on the desert wind.