JEAPers Creepers

by Unknown

  He didn’t want to call her. He knew she’d be cross at him, as well as the fact that she didn’t know the special Monster Words his dad had always used whenever Bobby got scared of the dark.

  Bobby knew he had no other choice; dad wasn’t here anymore. Mum said he had gone to Heaven to live with Grandma and wouldn’t be coming back, which meant that all he had left was his mum.

  Since then there had been just the two of them, not like before.

  “Mummmmmmm...” he called again, thinking she must not have heard him.

  The light came on, hurting Bobby’s eyes, as his mum flounced into the room, a tired and frustrated look upon her face.

  “Whattttt?” she said, still half-asleep and barely awake. “What is it this time, Bobby? Don’t you know what time it is? I was trying to get some sleep.”

  Bobby’s mum had not been sleeping very well of late – not since his dad had gone away. Bobby hadn’t wanted to call out to her, hadn’t wanted to disturb her, but he was desperate.

  He needed the monster to be gone.

  If he got out of bed, the monster would get him. So long as he stayed in his bed, and awake, somehow he knew that he was safe.

  Bobby didn’t know how he knew that, he just did.

  Though his mum didn’t know the special words his dad always used to say, oft times when he called her she would just sit there and read a story to him until he didn’t feel so scared anymore. Usually one of his favourites, like Where the Wild Things Are or The Night Pirates. By the time she’d finished, the monster would normally have become bored with waiting and would be gone.

  On those rare occasions when that didn’t work, Bobby would just stay awake and wait the monster out; but he knew for a fact he wouldn’t be able to do that tonight. He had been doing that too much of late, and the tiredness was beginning to take its toll.

  If his mum’s presence didn’t scare the monster away tonight, Bobby wasn’t sure what he would do. His mum obviously needed her beauty sleep too, Bobby could see from the dark circles around her eyes that had begun to make her look a little like a panda.

  The moment he saw her, and saw just how tired she was, Bobby almost regretted calling her in.

  Almost.

  Instead, he just huddled down a little further under the covers and tried to look pitiful and grateful.

  “Is it the monster in your closet again?” she asked, exasperated that he hadn’t grown out of this by now. “You know there’s nothing there, right? That it’s all in your imagination?”

  Bobby nodded.

  “Can you just check anyway?” he asked. “Pleeeease...”

  Bobby’s mum went over to the closet, pulled both doors open, stuck her head in and looked around, much to Bobby’s horror, then pulled her head back out again and pushed both doors closed.

  “See? Nothing there,” she said.

  There never was when she came in to check.

  The monster was smarter than that.

  “Story?” she asked. “Now that I’m here, and awake, and all...?”

  “Yes please,” Bobby replied. “Story...”

  His mum went over to the bookcase.

  “What shall we have tonight?” she asked aloud, already knowing which two books he would ask for.

  “You choose,” Bobby said.

  By the time she’d finished the story about ten minutes later, Bobby’s mum gave him a quick peck, wished him goodnight and then left, turning his light out as she went.

  As soon as she was gone, Bobby looked over at the closet.

  With a wave of relief, Bobby noted the monster had, thankfully, grown tired of waiting and likewise left.

  He could sleep easy in his bed that night after all.

  ***

  The next night, Bobby’s mum had to work the night shift at the local hospital, so Bobby went to stay at what he always referred to as his ‘other’ grandma’s house.

  Grandma Peters was his dad’s mum, not his mum’s, and looked after him a couple of times a month whenever it was his mum’s turn to do nightshift, occasions which were luckily few and far between.

  Tonight, for the first time, Bobby decided to tell his grandma about the monster in his closet.

  He didn’t want to disturb his mum’s sleep anymore. Besides, maybe his ‘other’ grandma might know the monster words his dad used to say, Bobby thought. After all, his dad must have learned them from somewhere.

  So later that evening, as she was tucking him in, Bobby told her about the monster in the closet. “You don’t need any magic words,” Grandma Peters told him. “You just need to learn to face and confront your fears. Monsters thrive on fear, they feed on it, but they also need you to believe in them so they can continue to exist. So if you are afraid, if you believe in them, you simply end up giving the monsters what they want.”

  “No, you have to show the monster in your closet that you are not afraid of it. You have to be

  strong. You have to walk right up to that closet and tell that monster you are not afraid of it anymore; that it has no power over you, and you don’t believe it exists.”

  “If you do all of that, and only if you can truly convince yourself that you believe it in your heart, then I guarantee your monster will go away.”

  “But will that really work, Grandma?” Bobby asked. “I mean really, really truly?”

  “Have I ever lied to you?” Grandma Peters asked him.

  Bobby shook his head.

  “Then that’s all the proof you need,” she told him.

  That night Bobby slept better than he had in weeks.

  ***

  The next night Bobby was back in his own room, back in his own house, and the monster in his closet was there.

  Again.

  This time though, Bobby was not so afraid anymore. He remembered what his grandma had told him. Summoning up all his courage, Bobby slowly climbed out of his bed and crept towards the closet.

  “Who are you?” he asked, as he moved steadily forwards, closer and closer to the closet. “What are you? What business have you here? Why do you lurk there in my closet and try to scare me? Why are you always watching me? What do you want from me? Tell me, answer me – I want to know. I demand it. What do you want from me? Why won’t you leave me alone?”

  Bobby paused, only inches from the closet now. He was scared stiff, almost shaking, and desperately trying to hold on to his bladder so he didn’t end up wetting himself. He could feel he wanted to, but he also knew he had to convince the monster he wasn’t scared of it.

  He just had to show the monster it had no power over him, he had to face his fears just as his grandma had told him to.

  It was taking all his effort not to just turn tail and flee back to his bed though.

  The monster said nothing, just stared out at him from within the closet.

  Bobby wanted to reach out and just fling both doors open, but knew that would be going a bit too far – for both him and the monster.

  If he did that, Bobby knew he would trigger the monster’s fight or flight response and it would have no choice but to attack.

  The monster seemed to sense Bobby’s hesitation about what to do next, leaving him to stew for a moment to see if his nerve would break.

  It didn’t.

  Eventually, the monster spoke.

  “I was sent here,” the monster told him eventually. “I was sent here to watch over you, and to protect you.”

  “From what?” Bobby demanded.

  “From the monster under your bed,” the monster in the closet replied – still not coming out. “I’ve been watching it, not you, waiting for it to attack. I’ve been trying to let it think I’m not here so it will come out and I can kill it. That’s why I just sit here in this closet every other night and don’t come out, watching and waiting. I’m waiting for the monster under your bed...”

  “I don’t believe you,” Bobby said, suddenly feeling more confident now. “I don’t believe you, I don’t believe in you, and I certainly
don’t believe there’s any monster under the bed. You have no power over me, you don’t belong here anymore, and I don’t want you here. I don’t care who sent you or even if you are protecting me; I don’t want you here, I just want you gone.

  “I. Don’t. Believe. In. You...” Bobby finished.

  “I don’t believe in you, I don’t believe in you, I don’t believe in you, I don’t believe in you, I...don’t...believe...in...you!”

  There was a sudden flash of light, a noiseless explosion of brilliant white light that momentarily lit up the gap between the doors in the closet, revealing there to be nothing but coats and jackets inside, and then nothing.

  When Bobby opened his eyes again, the monster in his closet was gone.

  He felt a small trickle of wee come out as his bladder relaxed a little, but Bobby controlled it. For a moment he stood there in awe, still not quite believing he had just done that.

  Then he turned and silently headed back towards the bed...

  What if...he suddenly thought, What if...there is something under the bed?

  Shaking again, Bobby dropped down on his hands and knees and tentatively lifted up the cover draped around the bottom of his bed. For a moment he had to let his eyes adjust.

  Nothing. Bobby breathed a sigh of relief. There was nothing under there. Just forgotten board games he had outgrown, and an old Monster maker stencil set his dad had bought him back when he was little. He’d lost some of the tiles for it ages ago, and hadn’t wanted to play with it since his dad went away.

  But what about the other side? He hadn’t checked that yet...

  Bobby moved around the other side of the bed and on shaky knees, dropped down to the floor again.

  Nothing, he thought, as he lifted up the draping cover on this side of the bed. Nothing here either. It had been a monster bluff...a dirty trick to try and keep him believing in the monster in his closet.

  Bobby was just climbing back into bed, when something reached out from underneath it and grabbed hold of his foot.

  Oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God, Bobby thought, in blind panic and terror. There really was something there; it hadn’t been a trick...

  The monster pulled Bobby off the bed and he landed on the floor with a solid thump.

  Bobby smacked his head and for a second, saw stars. Then he remembered what was happening, and somehow managed to spin himself around as the monster began to pull, drawing him ever closer and closer underneath the bed.

  Real, it was all real; the monster in his closet had been right!

  “Come back!” Bobby called out to the monster in his closet, all too aware that it was probably already far too late. “Come back! Come back and save me, you promised, you said you were here to protect me....”

  His hands and fingers scrabbled at the bedroom carpet; trying to find some kind of purchase, something to hold on to, in an attempt to try and halt his progress further under the bed. The monster under the bed was strong. Bobby knew he was fighting a losing battle.

  But you don’t believe in me, Bobby heard a voice in his head telling him. You said that, not I. You don’t believe me, you said, and you don’t believe in me. I can’t help you now, no-one can...only yourself.

  Bobby wasn’t sure if the voice he heard came from the monster in the closet, or whether it came from inside his own head, his own imagination. He could see a pair of eyes again, staring out at him from in between the gap in the doors of his bedroom closet.

  Please, he begged the silent eyes. I’m sorry? Save me...

  I can’t, the monster replied. It’s too late now, even if I wanted to...

  Bobby disappeared from sight as the monster finally succeeded in pulling him underneath the bed. There was a half heard scream, and a crunch, and then Bobby was no more.

  The monster in the closet sat and waited, patiently, as he had done for many months. Only when he was fully satisfied all was still again, and there was no more movement under the bed, did the monster push the closet doors fully open and step out into the bedroom.

  The monster looked just like Bobby.

  Silently, he moved over to the bed and climbed under the covers. He heard Bobby’s mum at the door.

  “Bobby, is everything alright in there? I heard a noise...” she asked.

  “Everything’s fine,” the monster replied, in his best impression of Bobby’s voice. “I just knocked something over is all...” he said.

  He heard Bobby’s mum walking back down the hall to her own bedroom.

  “Well, so long as you’re alright and not having bad dreams or seeing monsters in the closet again,” the monster heard her say as she closed her bedroom door again to try and go back to sleep.

  The monster chuckled.

  He would wait until morning, he thought. And then he would kill Bobby’s mum. Whatever he

  couldn’t eat himself, he would feed to the monster under the bed.

  And then he would go to Grandma Peters’ house and he would probably eat her too - for trying to help Bobby to get rid of him.

  Interfering old bat!

  The monster closed his eyes and prepared to go to sleep, but first he said the monster words.

  It didn’t hurt to take precautions...

  The Far Darrig

  Ashley L.Hunt

  Malachi sat in the window watching the gaslights from the lake rising in the evening air. Had he been younger, he would have believed the wild stories old Mr. Callahan told him of will-o-wisps. Wild spirits who roamed the marshes looking for unwary travelers to lure into the depths. But he was too old, now. The 'man of the house' until his father returned.

  “Malachi, come help me.” His mother called from the kitchen. “Set the table, please.”

  Malachi sighed and pulled out the plates from the cupboard. Four…no three. Father had only left last month.

  “Mother, how much longer am I grounded?

  “Another two months.” She reminded him. “Maybe next time, you'll think twice before using all our laundry money to buy bubblegum.”

  “I didn't know it was for laundry,” Malachi protested. “Dad always gave me money for gum. And he…”

  “Malachi, you are ten years old, “his mother burst out, slamming the vegetable platter on the table. ”You should know better. You're old enough now to understand!”

  Malachi brooded as he set the glasses on the table. Typical of grownups. Everything children did was fine until the day it wasn’t. They were expected to know when that day was, without the adults ever saying. Malachi looked out the window at the rising night fog. He wondered how hard it really would be to run away from home.

  Maybe he could find his father. Travel with him and help sell the vacuum cleaners. Mother had never believed in the vacuums, but Malachi knew his father could sell five hundred vacuums. Maybe even more, if he wanted to.

  “Malachi, dear?” his mother's voice broke into his thoughts. “Malachi, listen to me.”

  “Oh, yes mother?” He blinked his wide brown eyes a few times. Still at home, still with mother. Still in the gloomy middle of nowhere. “I set the table, mother.”

  “Yes, I see that. Now, please go fetch Mr. Callahan.” Mother replied in her mild way.

  Malachi moaned and stomped up the stairs. Mr. Callahan was nice enough by Malachi's standards, but he told wild, outlandish stories. Malachi didn't want to admit it, even to himself, but a few of the stories still scared him.

  He knocked timidly at the door. “Mr. Callahan?”

  The boarder was chanting in a thick Irish accent:

  “Beware, beware, the man in red

  Lest he fill your heart with dread

  Shriveled skin and flaming eyes

  Knows all your truth, believes no lies

  Should the red man comes for you

  Too late, you're through.”

  Malachi ran his fingers through his shaggy black hair and opened the door.

  “Mr. Callahan?” Malachi called again. His voice came out in a squeak. It was undignified a
nd he knew it.

  “Ah. Young Mr. Case.” The wrinkled old man turned to face him, long nose quivering; his odd, red woolen cap perched on his head at a strange angle. He never called Malachi by his first name.

  “Yes, sir. My mother sent me.” Malachi began, but stopped talking when Mr. Callahan leaped to his feet. He was spry for someone so old. His long arms and legs splayed wide, like a jumping jack

  that had been paused.

  “Your own ma, she ever tell you of the Far Darrig?”

  “No, sir she never told me about a fear dearing,” Malachi admitted.

  “SHE DIDN'T?” Mr. Callahan glared menacingly. “Well. She should have. He's a wily one, and if you don't keep on your toes...SNAP!” He jumped in the air and clamped his hands together. Malachi swallowed the lump in his throat.

  “His hobby is tricks, he delights in mischief and mockery. He can be a gruesome practical joker. He manipulates his voice, emitting sounds like the thudding waves on the rocks or the cooing of pigeons. His favorite is the dull, hollow laugh of a dead man. A cold creepy noise you do not wish to hear on nights when you happen to be alone. Far Darrig has also been known to give evil dreams. One o' the few that can.”

  “I won't go near him then.” Malachi promised, humoring the old man. “But mother said it's time for dinner.”

  “Did she now?” Mr. Callahan looked Malachi over as though he’d just seen him. “Aye, boyo. Can't keep your ma waiting.”

  Malachi followed him out, trying to keep his hands from shaking. He normally shook off the stories as just an old man babbling, but something about the Far Darrig spooked him. Mr. Callahan pulled the odd red cap off his head as they reached the kitchen. He had splotchy, yellow skin atop his bald head.

  “Good evin, Mrs. Case.” Mr. Callahan smiled brightly and bowed. “Dinner smells nice. Like something from back home. I could never hope to cook like you,” he told Malachi's mother with a sincere smile.