Challenge of The Month: It's the month of halloween! There have been many takes on ghost stories: romance, horror, even comedy. Write your own unique ghost story.

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Winner: ChayAvalerias

Title: Monster

I was a little girl, no more than seven, but I sure wasn't stupid. My family worked as farm laborers. All around us, nothing but green fields and at night: complete darkness.

A girl could get lost out there or worse. My momma said that I had to be smart about who to trust. Most of the other migrants came from all over, traveling in clumps and family units. We didn't care too much about making friends with the others. Well, at least not the adults.

Us children, we played all kinds of games and told stories. We fooled around, so long as the grown-ups didn't catch us. "Don't you have work to do?" They'd say.

When it got dark, everyone came back to the camp. The lucky families got to stay in these small cabins made of plywood. The rest of us slept out in tents or even on blankets looking at the stars. At night, when the wind blew you could swear that some monster had been lurking in the fields, watching you, waiting to pounce on you. That's why momma always said to stay in the camp. "The monsters come out at night," she warned.

I never believed in monsters. Well, not at first.

Not sure what time I woke up, but I remember the moon glowing brightly and the wind howling and my bladder aching for release. I tried to go back to sleep, but the pressure kept building. So, I stood up.

Nothing but the sounds of people sleeping. The final embers of the camp fire pulsated. I squeezed my legs together. "Momma, I gotta take a pee," I said. She just slept.

I scurried into the fields. I will be quick, I thought. I dropped my shorts and squatted, letting nature take its course. All migrants, girls and boys, had to learn how to pee in the fields. There wasn't any other place to go. I was grateful that I only just had to pee.

I hiked up my shorts. The wind blew again. I paused. There aren't real monsters here.

Large, dirty hands reached around my face and around my belly. At first, I felt stunned. Then I smelled the alcohol on his breath. I screamed the best I could. I kicked and pounded my fists against his body, but he was too big.

He carried me through the field, deeper into the darkness. "You be quiet, now," he said. "Unless you want to get hurt real bad. Do you want that? To get hurt?"

"Let me go!" I yelled, but only muffled sounds escaped my lips. My body bounced as we cut through the high grass. "Please, please," I begged. I sobbed.

We emerged from the field and crossed into another heavy with dark stalks. By this time, I had worn myself out. All I could see was the full moon bobbing up and down. "Please, please." The words slipped out.

"I'm going to have some fun with you tonight," the man boasted.

I recognized the dilapidated barn he took me to. The wood had rotted, and the door warped off its hinges. When I first saw it I thought it would make a great playhouse, but momma said it was dangerous. "It'll fall apart on you. So you better not play there."

So, when he rushed me into it and hauled me up a ladder to the loft, I trembled.

Half of the roof had torn off, and the moonlight seemed to shine on us. Finally, he dropped me down and pulled out some shoe string.

"You don't move, you hear. Don't move."

"Help!" I kicked and screamed. Then, he slapped me hard.

"Be quiet, you hear!"

I whimpered at the pain.

He reached for the string again, but that's when we heard the sound of someone knocking.

"Stop that!" He raised his hand to strike me.

"Please, it's not me."

The knocking came from the roof—the part which was still there. "Who's up there?" The man stood up and retrieved a hunting knife from his belt. "I'll kill you." He waved the knife in the air.

Silence.

We heard the knock again, further down. Then again. It sounded like deep heavy footsteps.

"Show yourself or I'm going up there!"

His eyes trailed down from the roof to the open window that was behind me.

I didn't want to look, but I had to see. I had to know what the man was looking at, what made his eyes bulge from their sockets.

Staring back at him, the figure wore a black suit. It held a pitchfork in one hand. Its eyes flickered with firelight. Its teeth dripped with blood. And its grin...

The man jumped, waving his knife wildly in front of him. "Stay away, stay away!"

The man scrambled backwards, the wood beneath him cracking from his weight. "Who are you!"

One more step and...

Momma said the barn was dangerous.

The man crashed down into something, something sharp. He cried in pain and screamed and moaned and whimpered and died.

He'd drop the knife, and its metal blade reflected the moonlight. I used it to cut myself free. I carried the knife back with me and slept with it.

The next day, momma wanted to know how I got that bruise on my face. I told her that I fell down on a rock when I went to pee that night. She fussed about me being more careful.

Later that day, rumors spread of some drunkard who tried to camp at the abandoned barn and died when the wood gave way.

Momma wasn't lying. I believed in monsters now, but not the kind that comes from the undead. The real monsters are the ones living and getting drunk and attacking little girls.

I wasn't stupid anymore. Every time I had the chance, I lifted the blade and jabbed it into the empty air, imaging it pierce right into the monster's throat.

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Directions:

- Enter your prompt entry by pasting the link in the comment section below and please include the word count

- During the voting period, vote by posting the author of your favorite prompt entry in the comment section below

- In the event of a tie, the board will determine the winner

Good luck and have fun everyone!