Hey, this is me, Annie. I’m the one in charge here.

I mean, look, every year, it’s my house. My sleepover. My dad who sprays the fake cobwebs on the window. My mum who makes the cake with the black and orange icing and the jellies on top that look like worms.

(You thought I didn’t have a dad and a mum, right? I don’t. I just made them up right now. To make me sound more … well, normal. But it is my house. My cobwebs. My toad. And my adorable black kitten. I order the cake from The Gravediggers, in case you were wondering.)

Everyone who’s sleeping over has to tell a story, see. It has to be a scary story. Because if it isn’t scary enough, you’re out. That’s my scary rule. I get to make at least ONE rule IN MY OWN HOUSE.

If you’re out, you have to pretend you’re sick. So you ring your mum or dad and get them to come and collect you.

Last year, we sent Matthew home. I mean, his story was useless. It was about a ghost that said BOO and waved these swords around. What an idiot! Everyone knows ghosts don’t say BOO. They say BLEURRRRGHHHHHH. And sometimes they don’t say anything at all. They just attack.

Anyway, this time, it’s Jack’s turn. He is going to try and convince us all that his brother (what brother? he hasn’t even got one) is a zombie. Yeah, right. Way to go, Jack.