Monsters Are RealA Story by Marlena (Crit needed!) Her mother always told her monsters weren't real. She was wrong.
Little girl sitting in her bed, supposed to be asleep Little girl staring at the shadows in the corner Not the ones in her head They're on the ceiling On the floor Little girl sitting in her bed, staring at the door.
--------------- She turns her head slowly, eyes round and wide and scared. She clutches the sheets like they can save her life from the night terrors, from the monsters under the bed. She clamps her eyes shut at the thoughts of the scary things, of the things with no legs and heads and giant teeth and horrible breath and crawling, crawlingscratchingclawsandeyesthataren’tactuallyeyesbut- Shhhrrrrk. - She opens her eyes. She tugs on the blankets and wraps herself up in a cocoon, her voice trapped in her suddenly too dry throat. The blankets are, to her, a shield that will protect her from whatever made that noise and hopefully will rock her to sleep before whatever made that noise gets her. Things with no legs. The thought is there and gone in a second, surfacing for so brief a moment like hands flailing in the water, almost like a message, like an alert. One quick, painful move as if in a struggle to escape the fear in her head, to get the message out before it's too late. Before the person attached to those flailing hands stops entirely, and lies dormant on the surface, there but not really there. What? Things with…No legs. Giant teeth. Horrible breath and handshands GRABBING HANDS ANDANDANDANDAND- She smacks her hands over her ears and whispers, “Stop that.” as her breathing hitches and she hears it again. Her chest moves in an erratic rhythm, she hears her heart pounding against her ribs and wonders silently if it could break. She also vaguely wonders if the little red and white shards of her broken ribcage would look like red snow, or maybe pebbles. Red pebbles. Shhhrrrrkkkkk. Longer. Louder. So much louder. It’s like a dragging noise, she thinks, like….Like how when her father would take out the trash and it would touch the ground for a second, maybe two, and that hissing little scratch would form. It would come into the air and her father would falter for a second before cursing and hefting the bag over his shoulder. Shhhrrrrrrkkkkkkkk. She whimpers, pulls the covers up over her nose and peeks out over the edge, blinking rapidly. Her eyes are a gentle blue-green, soft and loving. The walls in her room are pink, but she can imagine them sprayed with blood so easily. She has an overactive imagination, at least that was what her parents told her, and when she got scared she only had to close her eyes, take a few deep breaths and maybe hop out of bed and turn on the light. There are no monsters, her father says. Her mother says there are, but not the kind she’s thinking of. There aren’t any demons (her mother always said that) there are monsters, just not the kind that live in the shadows in her closet, or under her bed. Her mother also says she’ll understand that statement better when she’s older.
She doesn’t doubt it. She settles herself against the mattress, jumping as it creaks and groans under her and she manages a small smile. Maybe that was the noise she – Shhhhrrrrrkkkkkkkkkkkk. She gasps and presses herself against the pillows, simultaneously grabbing the one behind her. She blinks and all is quiet. Shhhhhhhrrrkkkkkk. Thunk. Thunk. Two soft, cushioned noises. The…The blankets! She whimpers, her voice caught in her throat, she takes a heave of air and brings the pillow in front of herself hesitantly, afraid to let go of the ultimate protection that are her cotton sheets.
Thunk……Thunk.
A ragged breath, a breath that is definitely not hers. It sounds like her brother when he has an asthma attack; loud and strangled. There’s a mumble mixed in there somewhere, a word hardly spoken and she bites her lip to stop it from trembling. There’s moonlight streaming in through her windows, it’s welcoming and though it casts shadows that scare her, tonight it reveals something. She finds now that light can both conceal and show, it can hide the scary things from sight but they’re still there. A hand rises from the foot of the bed, blue in the moonlight. It tenses its fingers, squeezing and grabbing at the air before falling to the flat surface of her bed. She curls her legs in as the second hand comes up, reaching out to grab at the sheets, claws long and yellow tearing into her comforter. She chokes a scream and kicks her legs, pillow stuck in her arms. The skin of the creature at the end of the bed is blue, a pale blue with etches of black and yellow in it, it’s veins are pulsing beneath it’s skinny arms and as it hauls itself up she feels her mouth drop open. Shoulders first, it’s skin and bones, it’s shoulders outlined by veins and strange skin. It’s head is pulled back, hanging limply on its neck as it’s eyes stay wide, white with a tiny dot of black in the center. It’s mouth is drawn open, revealing sharp teeth in jagged rows, like broken glass and wine bottles, and it’s nose is missing, a crater in it’s impossibly blue face. It opens its mouth wider, showing off ripped muscles and dripping black mucus onto the sheets, and takes in a ragged breath. A few strands of brown and gray hair are smoothed onto it’s head, showing how round and curved it is. It’s ears stick out, she sees a rip in one of them and little maggots writhing beneath the skin, itching and irritating as though trying to sew the cartilage together again. It draws back one hand and hauls forward, she inches back with another choked scream and raises the pillow. Another few inches forward for the thing and another few inches back for her. She’s pressed against the headboard, back achingly straight and as the creature crawls forward now she stands, pillow still raised. She catches a glimpse of it’s back and sees ribs, shoulder blades and vertebra sticking up like jagged rocks on the shoreline, dull but sharp and painful looking. They’re all covered in a thin layer of skin, and her eyes travel down to find that it’s body stops too soon, it’s--- Things with no legs --- legs are missing, it’s hips are gone and rotten organs trail that same dark mucus across her bed. It’s spine remains, trailing out like a black and white tail, dried cartilage between those jagged vertebra cracking and popping as it moves. She looks back down and sees it reaching for her leg. She freezes, her breath caught in her chest and her lungs aching to scream. It reaches out with yellowed claws, the needle-point end of one lightly grazing her small calf and trailing blood down it. She hears her heart in her ears. Pain in her leg. THOSE ARE MINE. Without much thought, she draws the pillow back, screams loud and- WHUMP- it’s hand is smacked away. It looks up-Oh,IKNOWyoudidnotjustdothat- with it’s strange eyes, it’s eyes that are all white except for that tiny, tiny dot of black in the center and it breathes foul breath across her skin. It breathes louder and she sees its back move and melt as it takes inhales. It’s about to scream when her bedroom door flies open and smacks against the wall. Her father comes in first, eyes both tired with shadows beneath them but alert from her scream. Her mother wheels in next, baseball bat in hand, and her brother last, holding what appears to be a pan of some sort. Her father shrieks like she had a moment ago, aims and –chkCHK- fires. The thing lets out a gargled scream of agony as it flies sideways off the bed, arms cart wheeling around it as it lands on the floor a battered heap. Rotting blood and matches assault the senses, the little girl gags. She clamps her hands over her ears, a ringing deep in them that she thinks might penetrate her brain, if only a little. Her father pumps the shotgun and fires as he runs over to it, her mother runs and grabs her and pulls her off the bed; her brother ran downstairs and out the front door at the sight of the creature. When the shotgun blasts stop and her father stands over the black-mucus pile of the creature, huffing and puffing and his cheeks rosy pink they hear sirens off in the distance. There's a soft gray smoke in the air illuminated by the moonlight, the scent of burning matches deep in the back of their throats.The front door is open and they hear feet pounding up the steps as her brother comes running back with the neighbors, all of the men with whatever kind of weapons they have, she clears her throat, her voice finally found through all the smoke and screaming and asks, “Momma….can I sleep in your room tonight?”
© 2009 MarlenaAuthor's Note
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7 Reviews  Last Updated on September 6, 2009 Previous Versions Author
MarlenaNYAbout-What's there to know? It's obvious why I'm here, that's all you need to get it.- more..Writing
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