My Best Friend, Zeke

In a secret part of the forest only I know about, I have a friend. My friend was lonely, but I now keep him company. He wears a mask over his face. He says it’s because he doesn’t like his face. My friend’s name is Zeke, and he likes Cheeze-its (so do I, but I’ll give him a box every time I see him because he likes them a lot!)1

My friend is tall and his voice is deep. He wears a red cloak, and it’s soft. His hands have long claws and his scaly skin is dark, dark maroon. I love Zeke—because he’s my only friend. And he’s a good friend. He comforts me when I cry. 2

I tell him “I’ll be here for you when you cry!” But he chuckles and shakes his head. 3

“I don’t cry.”4

“Isn’t that sad though?” I ask, my eyes water. 5

“Sad? Why?” He tilts his head and his shoulders sag.6

“Because, I feel so much better after I cry!” I say, waving my arms to exaggerate the sentence.7

Zeke stood up on top of the rock we were sitting on and held his hand out for me to join him.8

“When I’m angry, or sad, or upset, I yell, like this!” He let out the loudest roar I had ever heard. Often I had heard that noise when I was in bed at night, and I hadn’t realized it was Zeke! His voice carries on forever, it seams and then—I can’t see it, but I know—he smiles. “Your turn!”9

I puff out my chest and suck in as much air as I can. “Rooar!!!” I scream. It’s much, much higher sounding than my friend, and doesn’t carry as much, but it’s loud!10

I look over at him and smile, two of my teeth missing, and he smiles back and snickers. 11

Yes, he’s my best friend, from the forest. A monster named Zeke.12