The Thing

When you know that you are indeed alone, a shudder scuttles into your spine and takes control of you, gifting fear instead of comfort. Nothing can best the monsters, the Things, that plague one’s imagination, save for one thing. The bedsheet.

Nothing can penetrate a bedsheet, if it blankets all of the body. However, a lonely toe, uncovered by the soft cotton is enough for the darkness to take hold and gobble up one’s fate. It is therefore of the most vital importance that the sheet is snug around the dogged body, and toes are left unexposed, drawn in by the legs, which melt into the belly. Fingers pinch the sheet around the pillow and barricade the fabric bastion.

Here you are safe, for the mere touch of the bedsheet will shrivel the Thing’s tendrils and ring through its teeth. Nothing can harm you, for the bedsheet is a sacrosanct Templar of battle.

The nightlight diffuses through the sheet in a soft glow, bathing you in in the luxury of safety. All is well. The horizon pulls toward Helios and banishes the Thing, which thaws from the imagination and frees the body to protest the prodding of a mother in the morning sun.

Reviews

[Skin]

Great concept, executed almost perfectly

[AK]

A wonderful reminder of safer times. Thank you for this delight!

[ChristianM]

This reads like an old fairy tale rhyme and I love it.
Your words of advice will keep me safe from the thing tonight. lol
I would love to see you expand this into a tale full of fairy tale advice throughout. That would be awesome.
Great story.