María walked down the hallway, the floorboards creaking under her shoes. She peeked into one of the children’s rooms—she liked to check in on all of them before she left.

  She checked her watch. It was almost 11:00. I have to get home, she thought as she neared Alejandra’s room. María liked Alejandra—she was her favorite child here at Hogar Infantil Guanacaste.

  She gently pushed open Alejandra’s door and heard a snuffling and grunting sound. She must be snoring, María thought, though she had never heard Alejandra snore before.

  BANG!

  María jumped, then exhaled in relief—it was just the wind slamming the shutters against the window.

  Then, she heard the snuffling again. She opened the door wider. The bed sheets lay on the floor, torn open and covered in a red, foamy substance. A sense of unease crept over her as she scanned the dimly lit room. In the moonlight, she saw it—an animal.

  A peculiar-looking thing, she thought.

  It was long and skinny, with grey skin and light blue dots on both sides of its spine, about two feet tall and three feet long. It raised its head, revealing a narrow, pointed snout and eerie green eyes that glowed in the moonlight.

  It had something in its jaws.

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  María squinted, trying to make out the object. It looked like a snake or some kind of tube. Then, she followed the creature’s gaze down to the floor.

  And she saw her.

  Alejandra lay motionless, her hand bloodied, a dark pool spreading around her.

  The animal stood near her leg, stepping on the “tube” as it pulled and chewed.

  Realization hit María like ice in her veins.

  It wasn’t a tube.

  It was Alejandra.

  The animal had torn her open. It was eating her.

  Alejandra’s leg twitched.

  The creature noticed.

  With one nimble leap, it landed on her chest and bent down, tearing into her neck. The twitching stopped.

  The animal lifted its head. Its jaws dripped with blood and foamy saliva.

  María screamed.

  María walked down the hallway, the floorboards creaking under her shoes. She peeked into one of the children’s rooms—she liked to check in on all of them before she left.

  She checked her watch. It was almost 11:00. I have to get home, she thought as she neared Alejandra’s room. María liked Alejandra—she was her favorite child here at Hogar Infantil Guanacaste.

  She gently pushed open Alejandra’s door and heard a snuffling and grunting sound. She must be snoring, María thought, though she had never heard Alejandra snore before.

  BANG!

  María jumped, then exhaled in relief—it was just the wind slamming the shutters against the window.

  Then, she heard the snuffling again. She opened the door wider. The bed sheets lay on the floor, torn open and covered in a red, foamy substance. A sense of unease crept over her as she scanned the dimly lit room. In the moonlight, she saw it—an animal.

  A peculiar-looking thing, she thought.

  It was long and skinny, with brownish fur, about two feet tall and three feet long. It raised its head, revealing a narrow, pointed snout and eerie green eyes that glowed in the moonlight.

  It had something in its jaws.

  María squinted, trying to make out the object. It looked like a snake or some kind of tube. Then, she followed the creature’s gaze down to the floor.

  And she saw her.

  Alejandra lay motionless, her hand bloodied, a dark pool spreading around her.

  The animal stood near her leg, stepping on the “tube” as it pulled and chewed.

  Realization hit María like ice in her veins.

  It wasn’t a tube.

  It was Alejandra.

  The animal had torn her open. It was eating her.

  Alejandra’s leg twitched.

  The creature noticed.

  With one nimble leap, it landed on her chest and bent down, tearing into her neck. The twitching stopped.

  The animal lifted its head. Its jaws dripped with blood and foamy saliva.

  María screamed.