Mother always said be in bed before midnight.

She would tell us if we weren’t in bed the beast would come to pluck us out of our beds

and punish us by making us strike the cows, 

“We wouldn't want to do that now would we?” she always said. 

To our mothers' instruction, my brother and I always made sure to be tucked in bed before midnight struck, every single night.

We would clasp our hands together, the blanket thrown above our heads serving as a barrier from the world outside the two of us, and pray for the sound of the unfortunate kids striking the cow on the beast's order to come to an end.

One day my brother and I waited for the sounds of striking to end, with plans of going outside and wishing our mother a happy birthday. As fearful as we were, we loved our dear mother.

As soon as the sounds of the striking ceased, we slowly and with caution slithered our way to the door, opening it as quietly as we could, and made our way outside.

To our surprise, we found out it was not a cow that was being stricken, and it was not the kids who struck the cow, but rather the beast itself.