It was my eleventh birthday. It was the day that eleven turkeys showed up in our driveway. Sally had tried to catch them, but they were too fast.
I went to school like usual. It was boring. When I left to get on the bus the turkeys were waiting – watching. I slipped between them nervously and got on. They watched me leave. Had they followed me to school?
After dinner there was a tapping at the door – eleven taps. My father opened it, but nothing was there. Something short ran past the kitchen window. That night I found eleven feathers in my bed. Of course my mother blamed me for it. Once the lights were out, I heard a tap from the closet.