His room was covered in
darkness, the curtains were drawn. Normally this is the most playful room in
the house but the sense of childhood was long gone. The little boy sat up in
his cozy bed, clutching his dinosaur pattern sheets around himself. He looked
at the clock and yawned, almost as a reaction to the numbers he read on it. It
was midnight, much too late for a seven-year-old to be awake. He looked around
at the menacing shapes and shivered. He clenched his teeth hiding half of his
face in the covers, trying to keep the darkness out. He was suddenly awake as
his blue eyes darted straight at his door. “Prosper?” He questioned timidly. He
poked his little head out completely and peeked over at the light that
shimmered under the door. “Prosper?” He questioned once again. Parker waited in
fear as the clock turned12:15.
The door slowly creaked
open allowing the light to overcome the darkness. He relaxed as a tall and much
older boy appeared in the doorway. “What’s wrong Parker?” Parker laid his head
down, his eyes still wide open. “I can’t sleep.” He whispered as his eyes
darted at the bedroom closet, Prosper followed his gaze. “Don’t!” His little
brother shouted as he tiptoed to the closet. Parker screeched as his older
brother opened the door. “No monster in here.” Prosper reassured him, poking
his head inside the closet. Parker then pointed to the foot of his bed. “What
about under there? Sometimes it likes to hide under there too.” He whined.
Prosper tittered, walking towards his little brother’s bed and poked his head
under. “Nothing,” he reassured him again. “It’s just your imagination kiddo.”
He patted Parker’s head and giggled. “Nothing will get you as long as I’m
around.” Parker grunted folding his small arms across his dinosaur t-shirt.
“I’m seven, not a kid!” He protested making a face. Prosper just laughed as he
placed his long arms around his little brother, hugging him tight, he
whispered. “Never grow up.” As he kissed Parker’s forehead comforting him.
It was two in the morning
by the time Parker could get any sleep. It was the presences of his older
brother that comforted him. He was safe. No longer did the darkness creep
around him; No longer did the menacing shapes appear to corner him. And no
longer did the monster seem to frighten him. As his little brother laid sound
asleep beside him, Prosper slowly stood up, smiled looking down at Parker and without
a sound walked out of the room. There was a lot on his mind that night, a lot
he had to figure out.
Two-thirty in the morning
Prosper paces in the halls outside of Parker’s door, checking on him every
moment he thought was necessary, worried about a different kind of monster. “What to do” seemed to be the question he
frequently muttered to himself. At this time (3:15 a.m.) Prosper was lost in
deep thoughts; still pacing, still checking as he continued muttering to
himself.
It was five a.m. when he
suddenly darted his brown eyes at the grandfather clock as it sung of the time
as if it was his way of telling it to hush. He then slowly slid his back down
against Parker’s door. It was much too early for him to sleep now. He then
closed his eyes for a moment and allowed his thoughts to sink in deep. Something
in him felt wrong, felt as if there was a part of him drifting along the
darkness in the house. He felt like the monster. He had no signs of flesh
eating sharp teeth, his fingernails weren’t sharpened like claws, nor did he
ever remember hurting anyone. Yet there was something in his thoughts that told
him things, secrets he didn’t want to believe. “Who was he?” was now the question he was frequently muttering to
himself. He opened his eyes to stop the thinking and slowly brought himself
back onto his feet, took one last look into Parker’s room and carried himself
to his own bed.
Five-thirty in the
morning he opened his bedroom door, the room was ice cold, the kind of cold
that welcomes death inside. Prosper laid still under his warm blankets with his
eyes glaring at the ceiling. He then turned his head to the wall that he shared
with his brother’s room and listened closely hoping there would be nothing to
hear but silence, telling him that parker remained asleep. His heart settling
as he heard nothing, finally excepting that the monster allowed his little
brother to sleep. Though he heard nothing he knew he was not alone. Something in him always
has a way of reminding him that he is never really alone. He turned his eyes
back onto the ceiling and just laid there for a while, allowing his thoughts to
once again haunt him. Something in him told him that he wasn’t himself. Something
in him wanted to believe that there was more to him that meets the eye. It worried
him, more about Parker. His little brother is everything to him. He wondered if
this was normal, if this was the kind of things that fourteen year old boys
normally think about but then he sat up and directed his brown eyes at his
window and wept. He then came to the conclusion, “No,” he mumbled. “This is not
normal, I am not normal but I am no monster, I am Prosper.” He then slid his
finger across his white teeth. Still talking to himself he whined. “My teeth
does not tear the skin of others.” He placed his hands in front of his face
with a blank stare he continued, “My hands do not shred the flesh off others
with claws.” He touched his face softly with his eyes closed. “My face it ages
like it supposed to. My heart is beats like it should. The scent of blood does
not tempt me with hunger.” Nervously he opened his brown eyes, once again
wondering them around the room. The curtains danced as the wind flew in whispering
soft songs. His room remained ice cold with death still welcomed. Fearfully he
continued, “I have done no harm to others. I have done no harm to Parker.” He paused
as he wiped away his childish tears. He couldn’t help but to let his mind
wonder…if his words were lies. He would remember hurting someone. Parker would
fear him instead of crying for him in the dead of night….but...the monster that
haunts his little brother’s room…is that? Is he? “No!” Prosper protested to his
thoughts. “I am not a monster nor am I a hero. I am Prosper, just Prosper.” He shivered
as chills ran down his entire body. For a third time he looked around his
gloomy bedroom. There was nothing there but he knew he was not alone. Finally at
seven a.m. he closed his eyes to rest.
It was the sound of a
blue bird that had woken Prosper, singing of the morning. As his eyes opened he
stretched his long arms above him and yawned wildly.
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