Horrors

As I cupped the water in my hands and noticed that my palms were shaped like a tiny heart, the cool water washed over them and spilled into the sink. I drank from my hands, brought the cold liquid to my face and immersed my cheeks and mouth into the heart for a moment. My heart, my actual heart in my chest was beating quickly and strongly, my mind was racing and full of words and thought. I shut off the faucet finally and quickly ran into the front room of our house. Feeling flushed and full I did sit ups with my feet stuck under the front of the couch until I felt silly and unfulfilled by the movements. I sat here at my desk and typed these words while still feverish with thought.

Sometimes I feel so full I can barely contain this ever quickening feeling of inner turmoil. I am not unhappy. I am not ill. I am just here wanting to tell a story to someone, anyone.

The story is short and simple enough. The words are not hard to put onto this pad of electronic means. And yet it will not come. Not for me, not for you, not for any living person to hear and set upon memory.

And so it goes. On and on till the end of time, or at least till the end of my time. I am young, maybe it will flee from my mouth or my fingers eventually.

If it does not, I know that no one will ever know.

Because I realize that I tend to be dramatic and overstated, I will try to quickly pen this for you, just you.

The girl, the one with the dark locks and the fleeting thoughts sat in her bedroom, surrounded by familiarity and pleasurable things. The room is lit with a single dull light, issuing from a pink lamp set upon a broad white four drawered dresser. Perched upon her four poster bed and covered by this bed’s brightly colored canopy the girl should be at ease. Her mother has placed her in this bed, in this room, with good nights and sleep tights. The door to the room is wide open and from her place at the far end of the rather large space the girl can hear a t.v. and it’s evening noises radiating up the stairs. She knows her mother is in front of that t.v., finally relaxing after a day of assault by the girls’ neverending babble and inconsequential talk.

In front of the bed is a dark closet and in that closet on the top shelf is a black creature. It has been staring at the girl as long as the girl has been sitting and staring at it. It feeds off of her fear, off of her shallow breaths and short whimpers. Confounded by the mother’s complete and total lack of concern for the girl’s well being the being is stuck, frozen in thought.

“Should tonight be the night I eat your toes right off of your darling baby feet?” It sickeningly taunts the girl in a low barely perceptible growl.

“Should tonight be the night I feed on your little baby nose? Should I rip it right off of your lovely face?” It will not stop the assault.

The girl barely moves, but is obviously frightened beyond any conventional fright. Every time she opens her trembling mouth to call for her mother the creature starts, as if brought to life by the words left unsaid in the still night air. It stops the girl for a few moments until she gathers up enough courage to open her mouth again. And again the creature moves only this time, it slinks off of it’s high topped perch and onto the dark floor below, now out of sight.

“Should tonight be the night I twist off your tiny baby legs? Crunch the bones beneath my fingers, lick the blood and the tops of bone off or your silky young skin?” It’s lost to sight in the dark at the bottom of the girl’s bed.

She is absolutely trapped and now not able to stop from gagging and vomiting in her clean comfy bed.

She opens her mouth once more and though she feels the creature hurrying towards her bed in a fury of terrifying movement she finally yells out for her mother.

“Mommmmmmmmmmmaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa………………..” Shrill and sickening is the sound that finally issues from her trembling throat.

The being has reached her bed and from barely lit expanse at the bottom she sees it’s shadowy limbs scrambling up front left poster. The bed shifts with it’s weight.

She looks right into it’s dark face before vomiting once again. Not in control of the heaving that fear has wracked on her body, the girl is not cognizant of where the being vanishes to as her mother enters her room in horror at the sight of her shaking baby daughter and the mess she has made.

It ends like this. The short story. The nightmare I had so many nights of my childhood. I call the creature Thelonius, he’s a Midnite Cruiser.

There, I did it. I put it all down and I feel…not…much…better.

Comfort your children in the night, use more patience than you usually would. They may be suffering in greater ways than you would ever know.