THE CLOSET MONSTER: By Patricia Court
Friday, February 25th, 2011Everyone knows you don’t leave the closet door open at night. Everyone. And if the twins hadn’t wandered into the nursery to report the strange noises, they would’ve been eaten already.
Kat snatched the baby out of the crib. He started to cry immediately. “Get behind mommy,” Kat said. Both twins looked at her, blinking uncomprehendingly, Fagin tugging at the toes of his footies.
A scraping sound and then a splat from the twins’ bedroom told Kat that the monster had slithered out of the closet.
“Fagin, Megan, come over here and stand behind mommy!”
Finally, looking over their shoulders, the twins meandered in Kat’s direction.
And the baby still wailed.
Kat put herself between the twins and their bedroom, gently maneuvering them with her right hand. “Now I want you to hold onto my nightgown and don’t let go. Is that clear?”
Both twins nodded, Megan picking her nose.
Kat, with the baby clutched firmly to her breast, stepped out into the hall. She pivoted to move the twins toward the stairs.
The twins’ bedroom door began to swing open. “Back up,” Kat whispered. “Back up! Back up!”
A set of dripping fangs appeared out of the darkness, a snorted growl sounding.
Both twins screamed.
“Run to the family room! Run!”
The twins both took off running. She heard their tiny feet on the steps, with the deliberate step-together, step-together of toddlers clinging to a banister. Bouncing and shushing the screaming baby, Kat gingerly backed down the hall.
The closet monster’s face, twice the size of a man’s with skin like a salamander, shifted into the light from the hallway. Two spherical, black eyes on antennae shifted back and forth, then pointed directly at Kat.
Kat ran, catching up with the twins halfway down the stairs. She herded them as quickly as their little legs could carry them into the family room.
Directly overhead, she heard the monster scraping up the hallway toward the stairs.
The baby had finally gone quiet. Kat wouldn’t be able to outrun the monster with three kids. She needed someplace to hide. The family room had an odd storage cubby between it and the garage. Kat dragged the TV tray with Chutes and Ladders on it out of the way. She wedged a finger into the ring cut in the wood paneling and dragged the balky door open across the ancient shag carpet. Brad’s camping gear was stuffed inside haphazardly.
A scrape and thump from the top of the stairs told Kat that the monster had started descending. She grabbed the camping gear and flung it across the room until the little cupboard stood empty. “Fagin, Megan, come in here with mommy, now.”
Kat squeezed in with the baby still against her chest. The twins both climbed in and settled under the bend in her knees. Kat dragged the door shut.
As the last shaft of light from the family room vanished, Megan bellowed, “Mommy! I’m scared!”
The baby started to wail again.
Kat muttered quietly and shoved the door open again. “Here, hold your brother.” She placed the baby across both twins’ laps, and slid back out of the closet. She grabbed the sleeping bag and shoved it back into the closet beside them, hoping it might deaden the crying. “Now stay right here until a grownup comes for you, and be very, very quiet,” she said, and closed the door.
She could now hear all three children crying. She would have to try to lead the monster off.
Kat stepped back out into the front hallway. The monster, about halfway down the stairs, twisted its boneless neck to snarl at her, slime dripping off its fangs.
Kat ran straight out the front door, leaving it open. The screen door banged behind her. The chill, night air hit her like a shock wave. Frost on the sidewalk crunched under her slippers. She turned back.
The monster moved much faster now, thumping down step after step, eyes firmly fixed on her.
Kat backed down the sidewalk to the curb.
The monster poked its head out the screen door.
Kat ran across the street. She heard the screen door slam and then frost and gravel crunching behind her.
Kat’s lungs burned. She had run a 2K before she got pregnant with the twins. Now she could barely make it down the block. Gasping, she dared to glance back.
The monster was only 10 feet behind her, four clawed hands thrust toward her.
Kat found another burst of speed, leaping the Wilsons’ hedge. Her foot got stuck in something and she toppled over into their vegetable garden. Their hoe leaned against their garden bench a few feet away.
Kat rolled. The monster came over the hedge, landing exactly where she had just been. Kat grabbed the hoe. Rolling to her feet, she held it up like an axe.
Kat squared her feet and stared the monster in its eyes. Still panting, she croaked, “All right, Mr. Monster, it ends here. You’re not getting my children.”
The monster snorted quietly. Then did so again. And again. It was laughing. A mucous, nasal chuckle.
“And what’s so funny?” Kat raised the hoe higher.
The monster pulled its lips back into a grimace, and spoke in breathy English. “Where do you think closet monsters come from?”
Kat instinctively jumped back two steps. She recovered herself and again raised the hoe.
“We’re children,” the monster continued, “whose parents locked us in closets when they left the house.”
Kat stared. It began to chuckle again. And then the chuckle rose to a guffaw.
Kat dropped the hoe. She ran home frantically, the monster’s laugh taunting her the whole way.
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©2011 by Patricia Court
Patricia Court has never locked a child in a closet, tempting as it may be sometimes. The cats, on the other hand, get themselves locked in the closet fairly regularly, and they truly do become monsters.
