Yawnkin is a little fuzzy monster with two tiny horns, four little teeth, and one great big yawn. Tonight is Halloween. The moon is round, pumpkins glow, and orange leaves rustle along the path.
Everyone wants to stay awake for a spooky, silly night. But Yawnkin already feels a yawn growing deep inside his tummy. He takes a slow breath in… and lets it out.
“Yaaaawn…”
Out it comes, round and warm like a floating cloud. Yawnkin blinks. “Do you feel a little yawn growing too?” he whispers. Then he smiles. “Oh dear. Not on Halloween.”
Yawnkin puts on his little black cape and walks down the moonlit path. At the gate, a tiny ghost hides behind a pumpkin. He waits… and waits… Then—“BOO!”
Yawnkin jumps. The ghost giggles.
But another yawn is already tiptoeing up Yawnkin’s throat. His fuzzy tummy rises as he breathes in. Then—“Yaaaaawn…”
The ghost blinks once, then twice. “Boo… yaaaawn…” His eyelids grow heavy, his floaty arms droop, and his white sheet settles onto a pile of crunchy leaves. Soft… softer… still.
In a moment, the little ghost is fast asleep. Yawnkin giggles quietly. “That happens sometimes.”
Farther along the path—clack-clack! A little skeleton dances beside a fence. He wiggles his elbows, shakes his knees, and spins around and around. “I can dance all night!”
Yawnkin smiles, but his eyes begin to water and his tiny horns wiggle. He breathes in slowly… deeply… and—“Yaaaaaaaawn…”
The skeleton freezes. “Oh.” His shoulders sink and his knees wobble. Clack… clack… He sits beside the fence and rests his head on a round orange pumpkin. His feet stop tapping—well, almost. One tiny toe wiggles twice, then stops. “Zzzzz…”
Soon Yawnkin reaches the pumpkin patch. A little witch swoops through the sky on her broom. “Wheeeee!” She loops around the moon, zooms over the pumpkins, and dives toward Yawnkin.
“Happy Halloween!” they call to each other.
Oh no—here comes another yawn. Yawnkin takes a long breath in and lets it float gently out. “Yaaaaaaaaawn…”
The witch blinks. Her broom wobbles. “Oh my… yaaaawn…” Her shoulders relax, and the broom flies slower… and slower… until—poof! It lands softly in a pile of hay.
The witch curls up on her broom as if it were the coziest pillow in the world. Her pointy hat slips over her eyes. “Zzzzz…”
Halloween is quieter now. Crunch… crunch… go the leaves beneath Yawnkin’s feet. Then a tiny voice squeaks from above. “I’m not sleepy!”
A little bat hangs upside down from a tree. “I sleep in the daytime. Nighttime is when I wake up! Your yawns will never work on me!”
Yawnkin tries not to laugh. A tickle grows inside his tummy. He breathes in, his shoulders lift, and everything relaxes as he breathes out—“Yaaaaaaaaaawn…”
The bat stares at him. “Nope. I’m definitely not…” Blink. “…sleepy…” Then his tiny mouth opens. “Eeep… yaaaawn…”
His eyelids close while his feet stay safely curled around the branch. One wing, then the other, folds around him like a warm blanket. Soon his tiny snores drift through the tree. “Eep… eep… eep…”
“Goodnight, little bat,” says Yawnkin.
At last, Yawnkin reaches the town square. Orange lanterns glow in the windows, pumpkins shine along the path, and the moon hangs above the rooftops. Everything is becoming still.
Yawnkin thinks of the ghost in the leaves, the skeleton beside his pumpkin, the witch in the hay, and the bat wrapped in his wings. Then one last yawn grows deep inside his tummy.
This yawn is not big or silly. It is slow, soft, and warm. Yawnkin closes his eyes, takes the slowest breath of the night, and gently lets it out. “Yaaaaaaawn…”
The quiet yawn drifts through the square like a warm blanket. Leaves stop dancing. Lanterns flicker. Pumpkins glow softer. Even the night seems to breathe in… and out… Halloween grows quieter and quieter.
Yawnkin turns toward home. His steps slow, his arms feel heavy, and his eyes blink once… twice… He passes the sleeping ghost, skeleton, witch, and bat. Everyone is peaceful. Everyone is cozy. Everyone is asleep.
Back at home, Yawnkin takes off his cape and curls into a warm little ball. His arms relax. His legs relax. His tiny horns sink into his soft pillow.
Outside, pumpkins glow beneath the moon. Yawnkin’s eyes grow heavier… and heavier… until they close. He takes one last slow breath, and his great big Halloween yawn becomes the tiniest goodnight whisper.
“Yaaawn…”
Shhh… Goodnight, little ghost. Goodnight, skeleton. Goodnight, little witch. Goodnight, little bat. And goodnight, Yawnkin. Happy Halloween.
The End
Read Yawnkin’s first sleepy adventure
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