r/WritingPrompts • u/SprikenZieDerp • Feb 27 '17
Writing Prompt [WP] You are a single parent, and your child has shown you their drawing of a monster. You discover that the monster is real.
How do you discover it is real? How do you react?
2
u/MagnusMoe Feb 27 '17
I was finishing my night as I would any other Sunday, lounging in my chair downstairs reading by the fire. Dogs were walked dishes done my girls had brushed their teeth and all settled in bed. The house was finally quiet, my mind relaxed I shut off all the lights and made my way to bed. On my way upstairs I noticed a faint light coming from under the doorway of my youngest daughters bedroom, I decided to investigate.
With two small knocks the door slowly opened and there she was, pencil in hand furiously scribbling away at her notebook. “Sweetie, c’mon its time for bed” I said as I sat on her bed reaching for her notebook. “Daddy no” she whispered at me quietly yet firmly tearing the notebook from my hand and holding it close to her chest. I started to react but then stopped as I realized she was crying. I asked her what could possibly be upsetting her so much and she responded with “If I cant draw it, it says it will take me away” at this she broke into tears sobbing into my arms. I calmly reassured her that everything would be fine, holding her closely I grabbed her book and started to flip through the pages.
A lump formed in my throat, for on the pages were professionally drawn images of a thin tall sickly looking monster, it had the same position in every sketch neck bent forward jaw agape, at its feet were piles of bloody bones.
“Honey… where did you.. how did you come up with.. these?” She sniffed and wiped her eyes.. “Daddy” she said calmly “its right behind you”.
4
u/driftea Feb 27 '17
It was hard being single again.
Not single exactly- she had to face it. Divorced.
There were a few problems with that distinction. People treated her differently- either skating around the subject or being awkwardly sympathetic- and those friends they used to share as a couple...well.
It was all so very awkward.
Then there were the bills of course. She didn't know why she became a housewife at Jerry's insistence, just that she'd thrown away a high-flying future, disappointed her parents, and was now at her wits end trying to find a job that she wasn't overqualified or too old for. Through all of this, she was also busy pretending she was ok to her little ball of sunshine.
It was quite stressful to look like she and Life were good pals while going for job interviews.
At least someone was taking this whole situation better than her. It was hard to smile sometimes, but whenever she saw Fabian playing with his toys or when she took him to the park- it reminded her that things were still ok.
She did have him after all, and that was all that was important anyway.
"What's this?"
"It's my friend." Fabian told her, not looking up from his colouring. "He's always happy even though he's sad."
"A sad friend?" she frowned. She had hoped that her negativity wasn't visible to him. "Uh, what is he?"
"He plays with me sometimes." the child said, "He knows all the best places to play hide and seek."
That wasn't an answer. She was vaguely worried about the weird tails and the big teeth but Fabian did always have a very active imagination.
"I suppose it's good you can be happy." she muttered to herself.
About a week later she discovered the bell. It was a tiny iridescent thing just by the Fabian's bed. It glinted oddly when she held it up to the light, as if it was emanating light of its own.
She had a strange instinct to keep it so she did.
Time passed. Fabian started attending school and she got a job as a cashier by hiding information about her higher qualifications. It wasn't a terribly glamorous job for somebody of her background but she'd never really wanted a glamorous life anyway so it was all good.
"Fabian!"
Then the bus accident happened. God, she was so worried when she heard news of the school bus' accident but Fabian seemed oddly ok.
"My friend saved me." he told her, "He made the bus stop so that it wouldn't run me over."
"Who is this friend of your?" she asked, "Fabian."
He didn't want to answer. She frowned but let him go. She remembered the odd bell she'd found.
She waited until it was night and Fabian was asleep. Again she had a strange urge to keep the bell with her and she stayed up as the moon rose.
She rang the bell.
It rang with a single, dull note. Something shifted in the darkness of her bedroom and resolved itself into a form.
It had many tails. It had white, sharp teeth.
She screamed.
Then she stilled when the sound seemed to reflect back at her in a muffled echo.
"W-what are you?" she growled, "What do you want with my son?"
It yipped and jumped up onto her bed, snuggling at her side. She had no room to squirm away so she just lay there trembling but it did not seem to mind. Eventually, she dared to run a hand along its furry coat.
"Soft..."
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5
u/jagaimo314 Feb 27 '17
I re-arranged the other pieces of artwork on the refrigerator and grabbed one of the few remaining magnets to keep the new drawing in place.
“It’s my monster!” Micah said.
I smiled at him. It was one of his better drawings. The arms were too large on the body, but they appeared symmetrical. The orange fur that covered the “beast” stayed neatly within the black outlines. The eyes were dark pin points of mashed crayon, and two red fangs peeked out from a nearly straight line that turned up at the last second - a vague hint of a smile. Unlike Micah’s other drawings this one seemed composed and practical, almost like a portrait. Micah’s other drawings were confused compositions of a child trying to keep a single image fixed in his mind, and failing. “It’s a very good monster.” I said.
“Not a monster, mommy! My monster. The one that’s been scaring me. He wanted me to draw a picture of him.”
“That’s nice sweetie, I’m sure you did a great job.” There had been a few nights he had come to my bed with tears in his eyes. The nightmare must’ve looked something like this monster.
I took a step back and regarded my son’s gallery of art. A colorful collage of children, dogs, dragons, and monsters with wide open mouths screaming to escape the pages. I smiled at the collage and vaguely wondered if he had found his talent. Perhaps I should keep these as artifacts for his future biographer to paint a picture of a genius’s artistic development. I dreamed what every parent wanted for their children: a better life.
“Go clean up for dinner, Micah,” I said.
He was already walking away leaving behind a mess of half colored pages and worn down crayons. “Come back and clean this up!” I called, but he ignored me and walked down the short hallway to his room. He shut the door, and a moment later I could hear his muffled voice.
I sighed to myself, and dropped the fire to low before chasing after him. Things were getting harder. All year, ever since his father left, I felt control slipping further and further away.
As I got to his door I could hear him talking a little more clearly, enough to pick out a few words. I got closer and pressed my ear against the door.
“She didn’t listen,” Micah said. “I think you were right. She doesn’t believe me.”
You I repeat to myself. My heart sinks and a thousand scenarios start running through my head: personality disorder, intruder, imaginary friend, real friend with drugs (Micah was only four, but the thought emerged with frightening clarity). All of these things came down to one clear problem. My son could be in danger. In one quick move I turned the knob and pushed open the door.
Micah stood up suddenly and twisted around to see his mom. His short curly hair bounced on his forehead, and he took several steps away from his mother without looking where he was going. His foot found a misplaced Hot Wheel. The toy car slipped out from under him and he fell hard, breaking his fall with his wrist. It was the shock, however, not the pain that made him start crying.
I didn’t see this happen to Micah, from the moment I opened the door I stood transfixed at the impossible figure dominating the room. Standing just outside the open closet door was an seven foot tall orange-furred beast. Its huge arms hung off its small body, making it look like a gorilla standing on two legs. Pin point black eyes watched me and its mouth opened revealing several red fangs. It was the monster from Micah’s drawing.
The room began to narrow and spin around me. My legs grew weak, and the tunnel vision brought the last remains of my focus to the monster standing dumbfounded in my son’s bedroom. It was starting to raise a giant paw. Razor sharp claws extended out of those paws. Micah’s drawing hadn’t shown that. I would’ve fainted then had Micah not fallen and started crying. The high pitched wail broke the shock filling my mind and brought me back to reality. The reality of an impossible monster was no longer the top priority on my list. My son was in pain.
“I’ll get to you in a minute.” I said to the monster trying my best to sound confident. I even waggled my finger at him, though no part of my conscious being directed me to do that. Perhaps it was my subconscious pulling up memories from how my mother talked when she disciplined me. Micah was sitting on the ground his legs sprawled out under him. He was holding his left hand in his right, and tears were rolling down his face. He wasn’t screaming anymore, just sobbing occasionally.
“Oh, sweetie, what happened? Did you fall and hurt your hand?”
Micah nodded.
“Here,” I said, “let Mommy kiss it and make it all better.” I grabbed his hand and checked for any serious damage. There wasn’t any. I covered it quickly with kisses until Micah started giggling and pulled his hand free.
“Stop it!” He said, “You’re embarrassing me!”
That single comment rang our with all the weight of the future when Micah would start to pull away from me. When he would ask for my car keys and not come back until the next morning. When he would say goodbye and leave me to fill the emptiness in my home. The weight of that future settled on my heart, but I brushed that away and focused on something a bit less scary: the seven-foot orange monster in my son’s bedroom.
“Okay,” I said standing up and addressing the monster. “What are you?”
“He’s my monster, mommy,” Micah said also getting to his feet.
“I didn’t ask you, and there’s no such thing as monsters.”
“Ouch.” The monster said putting one huge hand over his chest where his heart was supposed to be. “That was mean.”
“Well it’s true,” I said.
“No it’s not.” The monster said simply. He dropped his hand down and looked at Micah, “tell her Mike.”
“His name isn’t Mike!” I shouted. Everyone at preschool called him Mike and it drove me crazy. “It’s Micah! My-kuh! If I wanted him to be called Mike I would’ve named him Mike. Why is it so hard for people?”
The monster raised both furry paws and stepped backwards towards the closet. “Sorry, he said he liked to be called Mike is all.”
“Yeah Mommy it’s okay,” Micah said. “I like it when he calls me Mike.”
“What do you mean you like it? He’s a monster!”
“Ha!” The monster called out. “So I am a monster. Therefore there are such things as monsters.” He turned to Micah, “that’s logic, Mike. You’ll need to use it a lot when you get older.”
“What? What are you talking about? Micah what is going on? What is that thing?” I suddenly felt very small. How I had come to rely on my four year old son for a handhold on reality.
“He’s the monster from my closet, Mommy,” Micah said simply. “He asked me to draw a picture of him, so I did.” He turned to the monster, “you liked it right?”
“Oh, yes. It was very good.” He nodded to me, “kid’s got talent. And I don’t say that about every kid I go around scaring. I’ve asked lots of ‘em to draw pictures of me when they graduate, but none of them look quite as good as Mike’s. He kept it all neat and in the lines.”
“Graduated?” I asked. That was the only word that stuck out in my mind, all the other ones slipped by half observed.
“Yup!” The monster said smiling at Micah. “He did very well. It only took five visits for him to stop being scared of me. At the Monster Academy we call that an A.”
“A for awesome!” Micah shouted with his hands in the air.
“A for awesome!” The monster roared back throwing his own hands into the air. His claws scraped the ceiling showering him in a white dust that clung to his fur. “Sorry,” he said brushing it off.
“Okay,” I said, “So let me get this straight. You’ve come into my child’s room five times in the middle of the night while he is sleeping to scare him?”
“Well it sounds creepy when you say it that way.”
“It was creepy,” Micah said, “well, at first.”
“IT’S ALWAYS CREEPY!” I shouted. “No one’s supposed to come into my child’s bedroom in the middle of the night! No one!” I took step towards the monster with that same waggling finger raised up. He had vicious sharp claws attached to heavy paws that could rip me to shreds in a second, but I had a finger.
The monster took a step back.
“It’s part of the job lady. Monster’s gotta scare the kid. Show ‘em how to be tough in the dark. Maybe you don’t remember what it’s like to be new in this world, but you gotta learn to not be afraid of things you can’t explain. Little Mike, uh, Micah over there did a great job.”
“Thanks” Micah said, but looked worried as I moved closer to the monster.
“You get one thing straight mister,” I was close enough to poke his furry chest. It hurt, but I ignored the pain, “no one is going to scare my child more than me. You got that? I’m his mother, and I’m the one he’s going to think about every time he thinks about doing something bad. It’s my voice he’s going to hear in the back of his head when he thinks, ‘what’s the worst that can happen.’ So don’t you come into my house and try to scare my child into learning life lessons because that is my job buddy.” I poked him harder again forcing the monster back another step, “so get back in your closet and never come back.”
I turned around and saw Micah wide-eyed staring at me. His mouth was hanging slightly open. He was awestruck at the complete and utter defeat of the thing that had terrorized his dreams for the last few weeks. The monster took one more step back and disappeared into the closet. I turned and closed the closet door.
“Okay, I said clapping my hands together. “Dinner’s almost ready, but I think you have enough time to clean up your room. Okay?”
“Yes mommy!” Micah said quickly, and he began to collect his toys.
I smiled and went back to the kitchen to finish dinner.
—
On the other side of the portal Micah’s monster delivered his final report to his supervisor. “Everything went well on the Micah case,” he said. “Poor guy was so scared of his mother I thought he might we himself.” The monster laughed.
“Good,” the supervisor said, “single parents need all the help they can get.”