Daddy's Here

As he lay in his small bed, staring out the window of his little room, into the void above, he knew it was late, even if it was only eight or nine pm. But for a boy of eleven, it seemed like an endless stretch of time after his forced bedtime. He usually had no trouble getting to sleep, but things had changed in the last three months. Things had changed in the worst way...

"...Now I lay me down to..." he started the prayer weak, his heart and mind roamed to different places. He had began the prayer more times than he could count but could never complete it.

Every time, he would hear it move like the wind coming in from his window, like a sigh, waiting for him to fall into sleep. He knew it was there, behind his little bed, like a wild animal ready to pounce on unsuspecting prey. He had never seen it, no, but its presence was clearly felt to him. As clear as nonetheless.

"It's all in your head, Michael," he heard his mother say in his mind, just as she had the previous night, "it's just that you're upset because daddy left us." She would rub his back and pat his head, smoothing his hair back in the process. "I know, I'm sad too, but it was the best thing for all of us."

He had been saddened because his father had left them without so much as a word, but that had little or nothing to do with the thing that stalked his room waiting for him to fall asleep.

It was smart enough to come at a time when his mother would not be around him. This 'thing' was cunning. As much as he didn't like thinking like that, he still felt so. It made his head hurt.

"Mommyyyy!" he had wailed in a way he would never want his school friends to hear, they would mock him for being so petite but he needed that safe assurance that came when his mum was around him.

"Please! Just one night! Stay with me." He had begged her.

"Ohhh...alright. But just this once. You're a grown boy. No, you're a man now." She had made him smile, it was her super power and he loved her for that.

And so, he had slept with his mother, leaving the thing that had made its home beneath the old frame and the dusty mattress of his bed alone, but he knew he would have to face it someday. He had gotten up that morning and checked underneath his bed, an action that made him feel good about himself, a strong man like his daddy, but had been both disappointed and relieved to find nothing but the half-eaten blueberry pie he had left there a week ago.

But this night, he was alone in his room, with the hungry thing that would surely devour him if he dated to fall asleep. His eyes were weary and his eye lids heavy, without his mother to guide him out of danger.

"Now I lay me down to sleep. I pray the Lord my soul to..." he began

again, paused, listened for a sound, a sigh, a shuffle, anything of his unwelcome guest's presence and to calm his jumping nerves.

"...take..." he continued.

However, he couldn't push the rest of the prayer from his small, trembling lips. He straightened, he would go to sleep. He would deal with it, because he was strong, just like daddy. Yes, just like his...

And then he heard it. He heard a rustle... From outside? Perhaps it was the leaves,

perhaps it was an animal outside, maybe the air rustling something in his room...

But the sound had come from inside his room, what if it was the thing waiting to eat him?

He pulled the covers up to his nose, and was suddenly back in the mindset of a baby.

He wanted his mommy bad. He wanted the thing to go away. But he wanted to be strong like daddy, who he loved with all his...

And then he heard the sound again. And this time, before he could stop himself, his lips were pushed back by a powerful force, as one word slammed its way out of him like a bat out of Hell.

"Mooommmyy!" he shrieked. He slapped his hand to his mouth as if to catch the horrible word before it left his room and entered his mother's ears, but to no avail. Tears began to roll down his face, tears of both fear and embarassment. His door was thrown open, and his mother, naturally fearing the worst by the sound of his cry, rushed into his room. She glanced at him, immediately recognizing the problem, and left her panic behind her.

"Michael, what's wrong, baby?" she asked him. He pulled the sheet down from under his nose and cried harder. She sat down on the bed beside him and hugged him. His head rested firmly on her shoulder and his sobbing grew harder.

"Mommy...I'm sorry...I wanna be strong like daddy, but...that thing is still there and it's waiting for me to go to sleep!" he sobbed.

"Michael...do you want me to check for you? To prove there is no monster under your bed?" she asked him softly.

"...Yes," he said simply, still shaking. She let him go and bent down on the floor. Before she could pull away the sheet blocking view of the underside of the bed, he grabbed her arm.

"No, Mommy! It'll get you!" he pleaded. She held back a grin and lifted the sheet...

"MICHAEL!" she suddenly cried in disbelief. His body shot up against the wall, and his eyes squenched halfway closed. He still watched the side of the bed, expecting his mommy to be suddenly consumed by his fiendish companion. She did rise, though, and in her hand she held something that was very familiar to him.

"Michael, what did I tell you about leaving food under your bed?!?" She snapped. Despite his edginess, he gave a grin.

"I'm sorry, Mommy. I won't do it again. I promise," he told her, his teary eyes finally clearing up.

"Well, there's no monster under your bed, young man. But if you keep it up, there will be a whole army of little monsters. I call them roaches, and you won't be able to sleep at all. Ready to go to sleep now?" she asked him.

"O.k. Mommy. Thank you." He whispered, "Love you. Good night."

"Good night," she replied, happy to have this problem behind her. She left the room and closed the door, and her son was fast asleep in moments.

She returned to her bedroom to resume reading before turning in for the night, her sheets folded down, waiting for her. She situated herself under the covers, backed up against her pillows...but where was her book?

"Damn it," she cursed softly. Hadn't she put it on the nightstand?

She turned and glanced at the nightstand. No book.

"Damn it!" she cursed a little louder. She flipped her comfortable sheets off of her and leaned over the side of the bed. And she saw it, lying there, sticking halfway out from under the bed. How had it gotten there? She thought. She reached her hand out to retrieve it, but stopped. She thought of Jake's monster under the bed. She smiled, shook her head and scolded herself for having such a stupid thought. She reached down and her hand caught the book and she pulled it up. Getting back under the sheets, she sighed in exhaustion. She pulled the book up to her face and began to read. And then, as she came closer and closer to sleep, her eyes beginning to close themselves, a hand yanked her from her bed and pulled her underneath. Her head slammed against the floor, breaking her neck with a 'crack'.

Her son awoke to the sound of the thump. As he ran to his mother's room, the sounds of tearing meat and slurping brought him closer. He placed his small hands on the door knob, twisted and threw open his mother's door. The sight he met froze him on the spot. His mother's body was on the bed with a knife in her stomach. And the man standing above her, with crimson decorating his body, grinned. A wicked grin.

"Don't worry, son. Daddy's here to take care of you now."