Creak, creak, creak, creak... That nasty sound again. This is always heard at the hour of the bull. It's three o'clock in the morning today. I couldn't sleep anymore, I got up, took the gun. It's always been on the next pillow since I've been alone. No one wanted to live on a farm in this wilderness. Last Tuesday there was the same creaking, but I didn't get up, and in the morning I found Daisy, my favorite chicken, dead. I thought it was foxes or wolves, but 2 days later at night I heard the same creaking and in the morning I found a goose dead, and 2 days later a goat. I decided to hunt down this villain and shoot him. Until he killed my pride, Molly the cow. I left the house and followed the sound. I crept to the shed, saw the light and jumped out of hiding and shouted: "Stop! Don't move!" In the next second, I regretted that I had done it. In front of me were creatures with four legs, no nose, but with gills and silver skin. I was scared... But suddenly I heard: "John, it's time...