Radley's Home for Horny Monsters by Annabelle Hawthorne (best novels for teenagers .TXT) 📗

this place really had been built to harbor a monster collection, then ordinary thieves wouldn’t have a chance. Looking at the boxes, he debated cracking them open, but was convinced that he would only find more books.

“Fuck, it’s hot,” he muttered, wiping sweat off his brow. The afternoon sun was turning the place into a bit of a sauna. He resigned himself to the fact that he was going to have to leave the house again. Carefully moving through the stacks toward the door, he heard the sound of metal dragging on concrete.

Mike froze. He closed his eyes, listening carefully. It was faint, but the sound of light fabric across concrete carried to him from the back of the garage. He moved slowly, quietly, maneuvering around the stacks of boxes. A narrow gap between some boxes revealed a small hallway in the back of the garage. Mike breathed out, barely fitting between the stacks.

The hallway U-turned, revealing a flight of stairs that went beneath the garage. He quietly descended the concrete steps. Toward the bottom of the steps, he heard it, the unintelligible mutterings of someone up ahead. The voice was raspy, but feminine. He ducked his head, the space just barely over five feet tall.

There was just enough light that he saw the pull-cord dangling from the ceiling. He yanked on it, casting light into the dark spaces beneath. Unlike the room above, this one had plenty of space. Boxes along the edge of the space had been decorated with dirty fabric, and it was immediately obvious that it was originally intended for working on cars — large pit covers up above were sealed and locked shut. Along the back wall was a tool bench littered with tools, and Mike immediately spotted the supplies he had bought earlier. Off to the side was a tiny bed. The muttering he had been listening to had vanished.

Of greater interest, however, was the short figure between him and the bench. facing away from him, it stood at around four feet tall with dark green skin covered in dirt and grime. Its hair was so dirty that Mike couldn’t make out any color, but did notice that it had been pulled back in a wild ponytail. The sudden light had frozen the creature in place, casting a comical shadow along the back wall. The figure dropped what it had been holding-Mike’s screwdriver.

Mike tried to process what he was looking at. It wasn’t see-through, so not a ghost (thank God). Where could he even go from here, now that he had discovered the creature’s den?

“Those tools belong to me,” he said, trying his best to sound firm. The creature in front of him turned around slowly, squinting into the light. She wore a dress that looked like it had been stitched together from spare furniture covers. A dirty yellow pair of goggles were on top of her head, and she bared her fangs at him, hissing through her teeth. Her tiny hands curled, revealing claws.

“Tools are for Tink.” She growled. “All tools are Tink’s tools.”

Mike’s heart raced. The thought of this angry little creature attacking him was simply too much. Still, he couldn’t help but stare at her body. She had wide-set hips, accentuated by small breasts, and her makeshift dress had a split up the side, revealing just the edge of her bony hip and the movement of a thin tail with hair at the end. Her ears were wide and pointy, and a tiny nose made her big mouth look even larger.

He had no idea what he was looking at.

“Uh, okay. Tink, is it?” Mike held his hands up to show that they were empty, his knuckles scraping the ceiling. “Look here, Tink. My name is Mike. I bought those tools so that I can fix the fountain. I can’t fix the fountain without them. May I please have them back?”

Tink bared her fangs again. “You challenge Tink. Tink fight. Protect goblin home.” She grabbed a wrench off of the floor, holding it over her head.

“Whoa, whoa.” Mike backed up. “We don’t need to fight, Tink, but I need those tools. There’s no reason we need to do this.” Mike ran through his memory, looking for info on goblins, but drew an absolute blank.

“Then man leave. Never come back, or Tink fight to protect goblin home.” Tink hunched forward, tossing her goggles to the side of the room. It was now or never.

“Let’s talk about-fuck!” Tink leapt across the room, arms spread wide. She tackled Mike, and Mike fell over backward, pushing Tink’s head into the ceiling by accident. The wrench clattered across the floor, vanishing into the boxes.

“Oh shit, I’m so-hey!” Unfazed, Tink clawed at him, grabbing handfuls of his t-shirt. He fought back, not wanting to hit her at first due to her size. Unfortunately, it was like tangling with an angry cat. His bandages were quickly shredded, and Tink was busy trying to wrestle him into submission.

The low ceiling prevented Mike from standing up easily. Instead, he rolled around on the floor, doing his best to avoid her teeth, which tore away the rest of his shirt. As they fought, her dress ripped too, and Mike was soon grappling with a naked goblin.

At first, the fight seemed a sure defeat, but Tink was rapidly tiring. He flipped her on her back, slamming her rock-hard skull on the pavement. It didn’t seem to faze her, but she slowed down quite a bit. Using the moment to his advantage, he crawled on top of her, pinning her in place with the weight of his body.

Tink almost got free, but Mike managed to pin one arm down with his knee while holding the other straight. The rest of his body was on top of her torso, and she flopped helplessly for several minutes before going still.

“Give up, Tink. I’ve won,” Mike panted, sweat pouring off his body. “It’s over.”

Tink fixed him with an angry stare, which quickly melted into defeat. Her large,