TITLE: "Spooks" 1/?
AUTHOR: Marie-Claude Danis
EMAIL: mc@verticalcrawl.com
SITE: http://verticalcrawl.com/mostly
FEEDBACK: Hell yeah. Bring it on.
ARCHIVING: My site, nummytreats - anywhere else, just ask.
NOTE: Short. Very short. Just a thought, really. And not beta'ed.


I stare hard into thick darkness, holding my breath, all senses on edge. My fingers
are cold, clutching the wool blanket shakily, but there's no way I can bring myself to
tuck them inside the mock safety of my own body warmth. I feel like I'm six all over
again, kept awake by creaks of the hardwood floor and angry footsteps somewhere
else in the house. My youth's paralyzing cocktail of irrational and rational fear. It's a
good thing I didn't know back then that the monsters under my bed might have been
just as real as the family threat outside my door. I wasn't sure which was scarier.

Having since grown up on hell itself, I am now perfectly aware that the noise I just
heard might very well be those long forgotten monsters coming back to tug at my
bedspread. I listen intently, filtering out usual house-noises, but hearing nothing else.
I exhale slowly, trying to keep my body from moving at all, just in case. I close my
eyes again, but this time they squeeze shut with a desperate attempt at making the
uglies go away, whatever they might be tonight. Tomorrow. Think of tomorrow, when
all of this will seem absurd, and the basement, bathed in dirty sunlight, will look like
nothing more than an uninviting hovel.

I fall asleep. Under the narrow window, hidden behind the faint shaft of grey
moonlight, one of the monsters creaks his Zippo open again, compulsive, and wishes
he could be the one tugging at the bedspread. Instead, he leaves, unnoticed. Maybe
another night.