Morning

“Goodnight,” said the mother as she softly shut the door.

“Goodnight,” the girl whispered back. The door was closed by then and there was nobody to hear her, but each night she said it anyway. If she didn’t, she knew, the bad thing would come. And the girl was terrified of the bad thing.

Outside the wind made tree branch shadows dance across her window. Sometimes one of them tapped the glass accidentally, trying to get in. The street lamp from the boulevard ensured that the room was never dark, but it was never light either.

The girl lay in bed, trying to be as still as possible. She had pulled her blanket up over her head, and held it tucked tightly with her hands; only her eyes, nose, and mouth remained exposed. She knew even that was a risk, but she had to weigh the risk against the possibility of suffocation and she had concluded that right now dying was scarier than the bad thing. So she lay in bed, in the half-dark, only letting half her face peek out, and she screwed her eyes shut as tightly as she could and willed the room to disappear, the night to end, and tomorrow to come.

She heard a creak, then several taps. They were coming from the closet. She desperately wanted to open her eyes but she knew she couldn’t. As long as she lay perfectly still and didn’t look, the bad thing wouldn’t know she was there. And soon it would be morning and everything would be okay for another day.

She held her breath, only sipping in shallow, silent swallows, doing her best to prevent her diaphragm from causing the rise and fall of the blanket. Another creak.

Next came rustling from the doll’s house in the corner. One plastic chair in the dining room scraped back. In the bedroom above, the plastic teddy bear fell off the wardrobe, knocking the toy train off its tracks and onto the floor. Still, she kept her eyes screwed shut.

She heard one of her dresses slide off its hanger and onto the floor. The metal buttons clacked as they hit the wood. And still, she kept her eyes screwed shut. She told herself it was just the wind. The house was just old. Old houses always talk. Clothes shift all the time on their own.

Everything was fine.

Pulling the covers closer so that no air could seep in, she tried counting. Not sheep, never sheep. Sheep were too awake to help her sleep. She counted just the numbers, one for every shallow little breath.

At fifty, she paused. The creaking had stopped. The dollhouse was silent. The only sound was the accidental tap of the tree on the glass, checking to make sure she was okay.

Everything was fine. It had just been the house. Now, she could sleep. And soon it would be morning.

Her feet were so hot but she knew they had to be tucked in. Well, they had. Before. But now that she knew it was fine, that the bad thing wasn’t coming, that she had done everything right, she was sure it would be fine to let just one foot peek out. Besides, if she let her foot out she knew she would sleep better.

Carefully, cautiously, the girl wiggled her left foot out from under the blanket. She made sure to keep everything else tucked in tightly, just in case.

The cool air felt wonderful. She was surprised at how much of a difference having just one foot out could make. Finally, she felt perfect.

There was a light crawling sensation on her foot, as though a spider were scurrying across, and she shook her foot quickly just in case. And that was when the bad thing grabbed hold. Its large, clawed hands grabbed her left foot, slid up to the ankle, and started to pull. The claws pricked into her skin, sending panic up her back. The girl shook and kicked. She felt her foot hit the bad things jaw and she felt her skin tear on its fang. The slobber stung in the open cut.

Still, she kept her eyes shut. Still, she kept the rest of her body wrapped tightly in the blanket. She knew the bad thing couldn’t take those parts of her as long as she held on.

Frustrated, the bad thing snarled and sunk its teeth into her foot. It took bite after bite, gnawing away, eating the little of her she gave it. The girl hoped that maybe this would be enough to keep the bad thing busy until the morning. Maybe it wouldn’t be hungry anymore after it had finished with her foot. Possibly, that would be enough.

After finishing her foot, the bad thing paused and the girl let out a soft sigh of relief through the tears rolling silently down her cheeks. They disappeared with the sigh into the blanket tucked tightly under her chin. The clack of claws sounded away from her, taking one step at a time towards the closet.

But then she heard the steps pause. The plastic bedroom furniture in the dollhouse fell all the way to the floor with a hollow crash. And before she knew it, the bad thing was back. It was on top of her, underneath her, it was tearing at the blankets and reaching through the cracks, it was trying to swallow her whole. Its hot breath fell on her exposed face. She felt its rough tongue lick her gently. The bad thing went still and carefully raised a hand to her cheek, scraping one claw from her temple to her jawbone, delicately splitting the skin. As she shuddered, it licked the blood from her face. And then it let out a howl of pleasure and finally, she screamed.

And opened her eyes.

It was morning.