Roses and Dreams: A Collection of Short Fantasy Stories

The Sock Monster

Few visited Gash, for whispers in the dark chilled those who were unfamiliar with the underground. Every household was similar: layers of life above with screams of laughter and the suffocating air of too many bipedal creatures clustered together, stinking of sweat and oversaturated cleaning agents, but beneath the soil, where the air was cool, the surroundings vast, and the atmosphere quiet, Gash enjoyed his freedom and peace in the darkness.

Once a day, one of the older creatures would venture down the wet wooden steps with a large basket of goods. Today was no different. Her face hidden behind the mountain clutched to her front, the creature made her way down, each unsteady leg finding support below before moving downwards. At the bottom, there was a quiet click and Gash shrank back, hiding behind one of the empty metal tanks. With narrowed eyes, he observed the creature making its usual habit of feeding her basket of goods by the handful to one of the metal machines, before slamming its mouth shut and bringing the metal machine to life. Gash knew he couldn't be seen, so he stayed still, counting down the seconds when the unpleasantly warm and over-stimulating yellow light from above would switch off. His eyes twitched, watering at the corners. So bright. So very bright. The creature beside the machine straightened up with a groan deep from her throat. Picking up her basket, she flicked off the light – Gash heaved a sigh of relief when the soothing chill of darkness flowed over his scales – and she jumped at the sound, eyes wide.

Gash stayed perfectly still. The creature seemed to decide between investigating the sound and returning to her world above. She settled on the latter, stomping up the wooden steps and swinging the door shut, sealing Gash back in his nest.

Eagerly, Gash slithered out from behind the tank, spreading his limbs across the uneven, dirt-streaked ground and sighing when the coolness soaked through his scales. The machine continued to rumble, the sound reverberating into the ground and through Gash's body. He shivered with pleasure.

Eventually, the machine came to a stop, chirping. Gash righted himself and slid over, hooking one limb through the handle and tugging the mouth of the machine open. Wet, dry, or rumpled – Gash wasn't fussy. He rummaged through the sodden pile, eventually fishing out three treasures. Closing the door behind him, he studied each of them in the dim light. Different sizes and colours – one was long, with white spots; another had frills, and the last was a vibrant, solid orange. He licked his lips and devoured them one by one, savouring the soft material.

He disappeared into the shadows again when the creature returned. Throwing the wet goods into her basket, she returned above ground, but Gash didn't mind. He had eaten.

Several hours later, he sprawled on the ground, sleepy and full. The shrill cries of the creatures living above him floated down.

"Muuuum... where's my other sock?!"

Word count: 497

Written for Ambassadors's "The Beast in the Basement" prompt.