Tommy, six summers old, crouched by the window of his family’s creaky house in a muddy English village, 1348. His tummy hurt from no supper, and the air smelled like sour milk and sadness. Outside, grown-ups shuffled, their faces gray as old porridge, coughing so hard it sounded like they’d break. Ma said it was the Bad Sickness, stealing folks away to sleep forever. Tommy’s big sister, Ellie, was abed, hot as a kettle, her eyes all glassy. He wanted to hug her, but Ma said no, so he just whispered stories about brave knights to her shadow. Ellie’s gotta wake up. She promised we’d chase frogs.

  The village was quieter now, no market songs or blacksmith clangs, just moans and prayers. Tommy peeked through the window’s crack, his nose squished against the wood. Pa was out there, helping dig holes for folks who’d gone to the angels. Tommy didn’t like the holes; they were hungry, swallowing everyone. Why’s everything so mean? He thought of the baker lady, who gave him bread crusts, now gone, her shop dark. He wanted to run and find her, but Ma’s voice was sharp: “Stay inside, Tommy!” So he stayed, counting the knots in the floor to keep the scared away.

  Then he saw it—a skittering wave, like a million beetles, pouring over the hill toward the village. Rats, black and twitchy, with eyes like tiny coals, more than he could count, rushing like a river after rain. Grown-ups screamed, dropping their shovels, running for doors. Tommy’s heart thumped like a rabbit’s foot. They’re gonna eat us! The rats were bad, Ma said, carrying the Sickness in their fur. He thought of Ellie, too weak to run, and his chest got tight. He wanted to be a knight, to fight them, but his stick-sword was just a twig.

  The rats got closer, squeaking, a fuzzy tide that made the ground wiggle. Tommy’s eyes stung, thinking of Ma, Pa, Ellie, all sick soon. Who’ll save us? The village bell clanged, weak and wobbly, as folks barred their shutters. Pa burst in, his face like a storm cloud, grabbing a broom to guard the door. Tommy hugged his knees, wishing for a dragon to burn the rats away. Knights always win in stories. But no knights came, just more squeaks, louder, meaner.

  Then the sky flickered, all pink and gold, like Ma’s best jam spilled over the clouds. A rumble shook the house, not scary but bouncy, like a giant jumping on a bed. Tommy pressed his face to the window, the rats almost at the village gate. Something big was coming, bigger than Pa’s ox, maybe bigger than the church. The air smelled sweet, like honey cakes at a fair. Tommy’s tummy flipped. Is it a monster? Something sparkled, and the floorboards giggled and danced under his toes.

  Tommy gasped, his breath fogging the glass. Something huge, huger than the miller’s barn, dropped from the sky, spinning with sparkles that popped like fireflies gone wild. It landed with a thump that shook the village, right between the rats and the gate. A monster, purple as Ellie’s favorite ribbon, with a green belly big as a pond, stood there, grinning wider than a cat with a fish. Tommy’s jaw dropped. Is it a dragon? Its eyes twinkled, not scary but happy, like Pa when he told bedtime tales.

  “Good Morning, everyone! I’m Barney the Dinosaur!He’s magic! Tommy clapped, forgetting to be scared.

  Barney spun, his tail whooshing, and punted a clump of rats skyward like they were acorns kicked in a game. They sailed over the hill, squeaking, landing with tiny plops far away. “No nibbly baddies here!He’s smashing the Sickness rats! Barney twirled, blowing a breath that turned more rats into bubbles, popping with giggles. The furry tide shrank, and Tommy felt lighter, like when Ellie tickled him.

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  “Let’s make it fun!He’s chasing the bad away.

  Barney clapped his big claws, the sound popping like thunder over a picnic. “Time for a super cleanup!It’s a game! The village kids, braver now, darted out, chasing marbles, their laughs mixing with the wind. Even Pa stepped outside, his broom forgotten, staring like Barney was a king from Tommy’s stories.

  The meanest rats, with eyes like burnt peas, tried hiding under a cart, but Barney winked, his tail swishing. He hummed a tune, all bouncy like Ellie’s lullabies, and the cart glowed, sprouting feathers that tickled the rats out. “No sneaky hidey-holes!Chicks aren’t scary! The village square sparkled, cleaner now, the air less sour. Ma cracked the door, her eyes wide, whispering to Pa about miracles. Tommy thought of Ellie upstairs, still hot and quiet. Can he fix her too?

  Some grown-ups, skinny as sticks, shuffled closer, their hands shaky from no food. Barney spun, spotting them, his grin big as the moon. “Let’s share some happiness!He’s making them strong! Tommy’s hope grew, big as a castle.

  The last rats, sneaky as shadow-cats, scurried in corners, their coal-hot eyes darting, but the Bad Sickness felt smaller, like a bully caught by a grownup. Adults happily munched golden loaves, their coughs gone soft, faces pink as piglets. Kids rolled shiny marbles, laughing, and Ma hugged Pa outside, her eyes sparkly like when Ellie used to sing. Tommy’s heart thumped, big as a drum.

  Barney spun, his tail a twirly stick that made the air hum like bumblebees. “No more icky sicky!Candy! Tommy gasped as kids scrambled, stuffing pockets, their giggles louder than Tommy had heard in his whole life. The ground sparkled clean, no more Sickness stink, just sweetness like Ma’s jam pot bubbling over.

  Tommy tugged Ma’s sleeve, pointing upstairs. “Ellie!” he squeaked. Barney’s eyes, bright as puddle-stars, turned to their house. “Time for happy tummies and healthy buddies!She’s awake! Tommy ran in, Ma and Pa behind, finding Ellie sitting up, her cheeks rosy, munching a fat pear that plopped from nowhere. The room smelled like apples, and Tommy’s tummy growled, full of bread that appeared in his hands, warm and soft.

  Barney danced back to the square, kids trailing like ducklings. “Love makes the world yummy!I hope to see you again, friends!He’s better than a dragon. Tommy grinned, safe forever, as the village twirled in a nutty dream that ate the dark away.