springing backward as the beast threw its weight against the door.

He fell into Madam Dimbleby just as she must have leapt forward to help him. Luckily, her momentum launched him back into the door. “Get the latch!” she yelled directly into his ear. “Ian! Throw the latch while I push the door closed!”

Ian fought the panic spreading along his limbs as he and Madam Dimbleby pushed the door with all their might, closing it bit by bit. He leaned every ounce of his weight into the hard wood while reaching up to grasp the latch. His sweating palms and shaking fingers made pulling on the metal plate nearly impossible as he frantically fought to secure it before he and the headmistress lost their edge over the beast. Out-side, the creature snarled and growled and the door shook as the thing dug its great claws into the wood.

With another snarl the beast thumped the door again, and to Ian’s horror, he and Madam Dimbleby began to slide backward along the cement floor. “I can’t hold it!” Madam Dimbleby shouted. “Ian, you’ve got to run!”

“No!” he groaned, locking his knees and straining with every ounce of strength he had. “We can do it, ma’am! Push!” But the beast had other ideas, and it thumped against the wood yet again. Ian and Madam were pushed back even more. The door was now open several inches and Ian could no longer reach the latch.

Refusing to give up, he twisted his body around, trying desperately to gain purchase on the slippery floor, and gritting his teeth, he pushed with everything he had against the great hulking weight of the creature on the other side. He tried to ignore the smell of sulfur and rotten meat filling his nostrils and making his stomach lurch, as well as the grumbling growl that made the hairs on his arms and the back of his neck stand up. Ian saw a giant paw with nails as thick and sharp as spikes curl around the lip of the entry, and he knew that both he and Madam were likely seconds away from death.

Just when his legs began to shake from the strain and his arms began to slip down the door, there was a rush of wind from behind him, followed by a whump right next to him. The door edged closer to the frame and a small grunt came from his side. Craning his neck to look over his shoulder, he saw Carl, his face turning red with his efforts to help close the door. Then something else crashed hard into Ian’s back and he was propelled slightly forward. He felt little hands pushing on his shoulders and he knew without seeing that Theo was pressing her small frame into his as she joined their fight. With tremendous effort they struggled and pushed and groaned and gained ground. “Quickly!” yelled Carl, his voice tight with strain. “We’ve got to close it now!”

It was all the encouragement they needed. In one great effort the four gave a tremendous shove and the door banged shut. Ian grabbed the latch with both hands and heaved it closed. With a screech of rusted metal, it clanged home and everyone let go of the door, exhausted and shaking in fear.

The beast gave an angry howl and thumped its paws against the wood, making the door shudder on its hinges. The four of them quickly backed away and scurried toward the stairs. “Hurry, children!” said Madam Dimbleby, gasping for breath. “We must get upstairs and lock the cellar door from the kitchen in case the beast is able to break through this one!”

The four scrambled up the stairs, Ian closely following Theo and Carl. He looked behind him as he dashed up the steps and saw Madam Dimbleby hurrying as best she could, her breathing labored and her face flushed bright red. As he cleared the last stair, Ian turned around, reached out his hand to her, and pulled her up the last few steps and into the kitchen before Carl slammed the door to the cellar and threw the latch. Next he hit the light switch, and the kitchen was enveloped in murky darkness. They all paused for a moment, taking great gulps of air and keeping away from the shuttered windows. Every muscle in Ian’s body felt weak and rubbery. Madam Dimbleby looked ready to topple over, and Ian was relieved when a watchful Carl pulled a stool from the corner over to