ripley8
Science Officer NOSTROMO 1809246
Little one, little one,
Before you go to bed,
Brush your teeth,
Comb your hair,
And then don't forget—
To feed your monster
All your fears
For a lovely bedtime rest.
Before you go to bed,
Brush your teeth,
Comb your hair,
And then don't forget—
To feed your monster
All your fears
For a lovely bedtime rest.
It was a warm night.
Unseasonably warm.
The window to a small room was open, letting pale moonlight spill in, illuminating various stuffed toys, scattered crayons and tossed-about clothes.
A child's room.
The child, in question, was a little girl. She'd cocooned herself in a swirling pastel blanket, a bright pink bonnet secured over a head of thick ringlet curls. Her small hands drew the comforter closer around her shoulders, her wide, brown gaze fixed on the closed, slatted closet door.
"Are you my monster?" she asked quietly.
"I am," came a quiet reply. It was soft and rough at the same time, like fine grit sandpaper. The girl liked it. It was…familiar. Sort of like Aunt Jessie. Sort of not.
"I'm scared," she whispered.
"I know."
"Can…" A sheen of tears was starting in her innocent eyes. Her voice dropped further. "Can you eat it?"
"Of course, little one." the soft voice consoled. "Of course. Rest your eyes, now."
Her hands under the blanket pulled in fistfuls of it, close to her chin. "But…but the bad…"
"Not tonight," it said again, ever patient, ever kind. "Your monster is here."
"Have…you gotted the extra snacks I left you? I didan' know if you like the closet or under the bed more, so there's some in both."
A few heartbeats of silence, and then, "You're very good to me. Thank you, Sadie."
Finally, her unease and fear morphed into a hesitant grin. "Thanks, monster."
"Sleep now. It's okay. I'm here."
- - -
The moon had shifted in the sky, elongating the room's shadows into slightly more than garish fractals, when the door to the hall opened. There were no lights on, but The Monster's vision was more than well adjusted to the dim of the room, and house.
It could see the man's shadow quietly swinging the door shut behind him.
He carefully stepped around the six-year-old mess of the floor, and came to stand at the side of the bed, gazing down.
Had he been concerned with The Monster in the closet, he wouldn't have kept his back to it.
He wasn't, though.
He was Sadie's fear.
And she was Sadie's Monster.
His thick slab of a hand reached forward, aiming for Sadie's silk bonnet, sitting like a bright pink mushroom atop the swirled and stretched Monet painting-esque blanket.
The closet door had been recently oiled—because Monsters couldn't have their closets creaking—and so it slid to the side almost noiselessly.
Even quieter was the needle plunging into his neck.
It took less than four seconds, for him to fall backward, into Sadie's Monster's arms.
And she looked down, sure to meet his wide, terrified eyes. His mouth moved, forming a J and perhaps an S, but only air squeezed out. He was more or less paralyzed.
It was a bit of a chore, being as silent as she needed, dragging him back into the hall, and to the end of it. She popped the screen out, and leaned it against the wall, before glancing down at his limp form—his eyes wide, darting around, tears dripping down the sides of his face, some of them pooling in his ears.
"I guess," she whispered, lowering into a crouch and planting her forearms on her thighs, "you didn't count on another monster being here, tonight." She let herself give him a wicked grin, before reaching forward and tapping an index finger against his nose. She sighed, as though announcing the end of a good stretch. "Goodbye, Peter."
And then, The Monster put Peter head-first out a fourth story apartment hall window.
And if you feed it every night,
Should trouble come from near or far,
Your friendly monster, dear,
Will be there to eat it all.