A child lying awake at night hears creaks and taps, imagining each as the Flatman, a thin creature that fears light and open spaces. Using imagination as a weapon, the child defeats the creature with a flashlight, lamp, and open window, then drifts to sleep.
Chapters
The Flat Man. The Flat Man. At night when it is dark and I am in bed, I hear strange noises. They keep me awake. Tap, tap, tap. I know it is the tree by my window blowing in the wind. Its branches are tapping on the glass. That is all it is. But I like to pretend that it is Flatman trying to get in. His long bony fingers tap on the glass. "Let me in," he whispers softly. Tap, tap, tap. It's only a game. I like scaring myself. Rattle, rattle, rattle. I know it is a train going by. It makes the whole house shake and the windows rattle like someone's teeth chattering. That is all it is. But I like to pretend that it is Flatman squeezing himself through a crack in the window. "You can't keep me out," he whispers. Rattle, rattle, rattle. Shh, shh, shh. I know it is my baby brother making noises in his sleep, but I like to pretend that it is Flatman sliding around the room. "I'm coming," he whispers. "Shh, shh, shh." The Flatman clings to the wall and keeps his back pressed against it. His body looks like stretched-out skin. I know why. I know the Flatman's secret. He's afraid of the light. He hates open spaces. That's why he creeps in corners and drifts in the dark. One flash of bright light and the Flatman would shrivel up like a crumpled sheet of paper. One slight breeze and he would blow away. So the Flatman slips and slides in the shadows until he is near my bed. Then he waits patiently for his chance. To get me. I do not hear a sound now. I know that there is no one there, no one at all, but I like to pretend that it is Flatman holding his breath. He is waiting, not making a sound. Then, when everything is quiet and still, he will dart over to my bed and slide into it. Suddenly I feel a chill down my back. I know that there is a small crack near the floor where the wind blows in. That is all it is. But I like to pretend it is the Flatman. Coming closer and closer, he breathes his icy breath on me. It makes me shiver. I pull the covers up under my chin and hold them tight. I think to myself, he is thin enough to slide through a closed door. He could creep into my room right now. He could be lying right beside me, cold and flat. I lie here, afraid to move. An icy feeling is spreading all the way through my body. Something or someone seems to be wrapping itself around my chest. I cannot breathe. I try to think, but my brain is racing inside of my head. There must be something I can do. Suddenly I remember the Flatman's secret. He does not He is afraid he would blow away. I throw back the covers. I flap them up and down like a whirlwind. "I will get rid of you!" I yell. Flap, flap, flap. The Flatman flies across the room. He tries to creep into a corner. Next, I jump out of bed. I point my flashlight at him. "Take that!" I say. I switch on the lamp. "And that!" I turn on the bedroom light. "And that!" Flash, flash, flash. I can hear the Flatman cry out in pain. He starts to shrivel up. He curls at the edges and floats toward the window. I rush to get there first. I throw it open. He drifts out the window and disappears into the black sky. Slam! I close the window tightly. Even the Flatman could not get in. And don't come "Back!" I shout. I make a terrible face just in case the Flatman is looking back. Suddenly my bedroom door opens. A deep voice says, "What on earth are you doing?" It is my dad. He looks at me and makes a face. "For goodness' sake, close those curtains and get into bed," he says. I creep back into bed. "I was just playing," I say. "Playing?" asks Dad. "Scaring myself." "Scaring yourself?" "It was only a game," I say. "Hmm," says Dad. "You need to stop playing and get some sleep." Dad turns off the light. He shuts the door and goes downstairs. Now it is really quiet. The room is dark. I lie in bed. I squint my eyes and see shapes. I see a big black dragon on the wall. I know it is the kite that my grandpa brought me from China. That is all it is. But I like to pretend that it's a flying vampire ready to swoop down on me. Whee!
