I gulped as I looked at the stairs. I couldn't remember the saying for the stairs, much like I had forgotten the sayings from before. My eyes bulged as I stood frozen, my hand holding my toy sword. I could try and fight the goblin with the toy sword. However, I knew that there were no sayings that involved toy swords. For all I knew, I would swing and hit the stair goblin, and the goblin would just laugh at me.

"No, Grandma's been right so far. I need to remember what she said."

The sound of my own voice was hollow, and I gulped down the dry lump in my throat. Maybe I needed to see the goblin to know what to do with it. It made sense. I hadn't been able to remember what to do with the hall goblin until I had seen sniffing in the hall. Maybe once I saw the stair goblin, I would remember what to do. I licked my dry lips.

"Just do it," I said and crept forward, one massive tiptoe at a time.

"Grack!"

When I peered around the corner of the stairs, I saw the goblin about halfway down. It sat next to the bars of the rail, its legs hanging over the stairs and dangling above the first floor. It had its head pressed against the bars and held both arms tight around them in a hug. It was long and lanky, and its pointed nose stuck out like a dagger. I slid back and put my back against the wall. The goblin was there, and it could easily turn around and grab me like a stranger with candy that adults always warned me about.

However, I knew I needed to get past it. I knew without evidence or reason that Grandma would be on the first floor, as she often was, sleeping in the living room chair. It was her favorite place to sleep, especially on cold nights when the wind scratched the old tree branches against the windows. I closed my eyes and searched my memory. Surely, there was something that could help me. What had Grandma said to do when I encountered a goblin on the stairs?

"If you find a goblin on the stairs," I whispered in the lowest tone, thinking out the words.

I imagined sitting in the rocking chair in her lap as she told me stories. I imagined how she would smile and sometimes even sing a song about goblins. A 'little diddy,' that's what she had called those old songs. Often, she would turn them into rhymes to help me remember them. Now, I could appreciate that effort, even if I couldn't remember what she wanted me to. I mouthed the words over and over again, trying to force my brain to remember.

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"If you find a goblin on the stairs—pretend it isn't there!"

It was a whisper, but it burst out of me all the same.

"Grack!"

I froze, hoping I hadn't alerted the goblin with the sudden noise. Cautiously, I peered around the corner, keeping myself with my back flat against the wall as I scooched my eyes closer and closer to the bend. The goblin was still looking through the bar, though, and hadn't seemed to catch sight of me. I quickly planted my back against the wall again and took a deep breath. I thought about the saying I had remembered.

There was no way it was right, right?

It couldn't be as simple as ignoring the goblin. That made no sense. The moment I walked out from the corner, I knew that the goblin would turn and try and catch me. I knew that in my heart because it was what any sane monster would do. Why would pretending it wasn't there actually prevent it from attacking me? I looked down at my toy sword. That was a better option. I would be more likely to win a fight than just get away by ignoring the goblin.

"Do you trust Grandma or not?" I asked, biting my lip.

I gulped down my fear and stepped out into the hall, keeping my eyes on the hall opposite the goblin and starting down the stairs. I would trust Grandma. She had been right twice so far, and there was no reason she wouldn't be right the third time. Every step felt like I was wearing weights on my feet as I lifted my leg up and put it down. However, I remained adamant. The goblin wasn't there on the stairs. The goblin wasn't there on the stairs. The goblin wasn't there on the stairs.

I put my foot down on the wood-lined first floor on my last step, and the goblin hadn't come for me. Its meaty, hairy hands hadn't tried to grab me. In fact, it had done nothing at all. However, I didn't dare turn around to see. I knew the moment I did that I wouldn't be ignoring the goblin anymore. It wasn't until I heard a familiar noise that I knew I had beaten the third goblin.

Poof.

I turned and saw that only a puff of disappearing smoke remained from where the goblin had been. I jumped up, making a silent cheer for Grandma and her stories. Thrice, she had pulled me out from the grasp of the goblins with her sayings alone. Thrice, I had come out on top when otherwise I would have been captured by the goblins and taken to—taken to wherever goblins took people. Grandma had always been vague on those details.

I stood cheering in the hall for a few minutes before I noticed the noise. I froze and listened, focusing my ears on the silent night around me. I was certain I heard something, something struggling in the night and rustling. It wasn't the sound of a goblin. It hadn't said 'Grack' as they had done for the last three times. No, this noise was something else.

"Hel—mph!"

The noise came from the kitchen.