Would you like me to tell you a bedtime story? Once upon a time, there was a little girl who lived in a regular house on a regular street with her regular parents. And when she went to bed each night, she asked her parents to check for monsters under the bed and in the closet, and all the regular places that children think monsters hide. Her parents promised that there were no monsters under the bed or in the closet, and the little girl knew that was true. The monsters were hiding in other places, places that the grown-ups didn’t see at all.
Each night, after the little girl’s parents tucked her in and checked for the monsters, they’d turn on the tiny night-light plugged into the wall, and they’d close the door until there was only a sliver of light coming from the hallway. Once the little girl’s parents had gone, and there was no more noise, the monsters began to yawn and stretch, slowly waking up. She could see their long, nimble fingers wiggling loose from their hiding places, and their wide mouths with their sharp teeth smiling open. The little girl began to tremble in fear, knowing that soon, those bony fingers would be wrapped around her arms, weaving themselves into her hair, slipping over her eyes and mouth. They dug those fingers into her mind, and showed her terrible things.
Then one day, the little girl went to bed and waited for the monsters to come, but they never did. She stayed up the whole night, but not one monster even yawned. When the day came, the little girl was so relieved that the monsters had finally gone. She got out of bed and got dressed, and went into the kitchen to eat breakfast. All throughout the day the little girl was so happy that the monsters had disappeared for good. Then that afternoon the little girl went with her parents to see some of their grown up friends. When the little girl was about to go and play with the other children, she saw something in the corners of the grown up’s eyes.
The little girl ran towards the playroom as fast as her legs would carry her, and everyone assumed it was because she was happy to go and play with the other children. But the little girl ran because she saw the very same monsters from her nightmares in the corners of all of the grown ups’ eyes. Their dark, gnarled fingers were reaching out from behind the eyes of all the grown ups! How could they be hiding inside of people? Why were they still coming after her? How could she escape them now that they were coming out during the day?
Many days later, the little girl noticed that the monsters weren’t coming after her during the day. They would waggle their scabby, mangled fingers at her from the corners of the eyes, reminding her that they would come for her in her nightmares later. They were no less scary during the day, threatening her with the terrible images she knew she would see later, but somehow the little girl didn’t feel quite so afraid.
Years passed, and as the little girl grew, her fear of the monsters faded. They never went away, always waving at her from the corners of people’s eyes, visiting her in her dreams. And even though they still know how to scare her, she knows that she is safe during the day, and that the monsters don’t hurt her, even in her sleep. Now that the little girl is grown up, she knows the monsters well and knows that they are simply her guide to the darkness, even the darkness inside of other people. The monsters have become her friends, and she hopes that they live happily ever after.
The end.
Sleep well, my dears. May the page-turners be with you.
Thalia Huntley 