Building Monsters | WRITER'S AWARDS WINNER 2017

His Introduction

His Introduction

I SMILE BITTERLY as lightning strikes and a figure appears before my low platform. The spots from the sudden light throb away, and the face of my next victim, of the next Sleeper, is revealed. It's a little girl this time, hardly even five. And what are little girls afraid of? Monsters. In their closet, under their bed...

In their dreams.

This is the short spans of time they don't ever remember. The part where they enter into my domain and become my toy, my object, my property until they awake in cold sweat, panting and crying out for comforting. The moment step into my shadowed playground.

Around us there are no walls, only darkness and shuffling shadows. The sleepless moans and groans seep out onto the never-ending black and white checkerboard floor as the little girl whimpers, her eyes taking in the scene before her. I study her face as ideas race through my mind and my fingers twitch with anticipation. Oh, the beauty of fear, of terror...

"Where am I?"

Her small voice echoes through the room, nearly swallowed up by the darkness eating the edges of the room. The scattered throbs of voices from the Shadows escalate slightly as a smile tugs at the side of my mouth. So the growing excitement is running through their thirsty veins too. They're ready for another dream.

"Why, is this not familiar, my dear?" I chuckle, my red wooden chair creaking under me as I lean forward. She shakes her head violently as a tremor works its way through her tiny, fragile frame. Her teddy bear, if it were alive, would have suffocated long ago beneath her tight grip. "Actually, you've never been here before. I don't recall being in your presence, especially with how young you are...

"Well," I go on. "None of you remember me, anyway. And none of you ever thank me, let alone appreciate what it is I do for you..." Zinnia. Her name. Why had it come to me so late? I wouldn't be able to weave without it.

The little girl swallows hard, her breath quivering. "What do you do?"

My lips curl up into an even bigger smile.

Zinnia doesn't budge as I stand slowly, letting the sounds of the Shadows raise the stakes and tickle her nerves. She asked me a simple question, and now I must answer it. I need to let the feeling of terror seep into her muscles, into her bones. Make her teeter on the edge of the cliff before the nightmare begins and she falls off.

"You want to know what I do, Zinnia? How I spend every waking hour of my sleepless life?" I pause, studying the look on her face. Her eyes are wide and her body trembles. The Shadows' sounds grow in crescendo as I find myself again. "Why, I bring forth nightmares."

"Nightmares?"

I'm by her side in an instant, dematerializing and materializing within no time at all. She jumps, startled.

"Yes, you heard correctly, my dear." I lean forward, making her stumble backward a few steps. "And yet you don't understand what a nightmare truly is."

"Yes I do," she bucks.

I wave my finger at her. "Au contraire, you've never had a nightmare, Zinnia. Not one you remember, one that chills you to the marrow of your bones. No, you've had bad dreams, but no nightmares. At least not yet..."

Standing up straight, my brain begins to click things into place faster and faster. It's almost time. The black modes dance around me before I dart to the other side of the girl. Her feet explode from the ground once more as a scream breaks free.

The words slip onto my tongue as I squat down to be face-to-face with the little girl. Silence drapes itself across the room, the shadows readying themselves, preparing to bend at my every command. They are now at my disposal.

"We'll be seeing a lot of each other in the future, Zinnia," I whisper, the words flicking past my lips. "I'm sure of it."

I stand, peering down my nose at her. The ground shakes, and the black and white tiles begin to break apart and crumble beneath our feet. The shadows close in, chuckling and stretching out their deadly claws.

"Oh, and, Zinnia," I smirk. "Happy first nightmare."

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Chapter on Radish: His Introduction