The Protector

The starlight was barely able to look upon her as she slept in her near black room. The pink walls were stained the color of night, and the white trim reflected what tiny bit of starlight, and streetlight that managed to sneak in behind her pretty pink blinds. He watched her as she slept. Propped up in the wicker rocking chair her father had painted pink for her, he sat there. He dared not move an inch so as not to disturb her. She lay there in her frilly little nightgown, her hair in a ponytail that hung down to the middle of her back. The blanket was tightly wound around her, and he just sat there watching. He never even blinked for fear that the split second his eyes were closed something would happen to her. He was her protector, her confidant, her very best friend. He didn’t even want to think of what would happen to him if anything happened to her. It was a symbiotic relationship. Whatever she felt, he felt. That’s how close they were. He knew eventually she would outgrow him and move on. It happened with her mother, and it would happen with her, but he was conditioned for that. It hurt like hell when he was put into that dark cardboard box, but it made the sunlight that much sweeter when he got out again.
His thoughts were interrupted by the very faint creaking of the closet door. His eyes never left her, but he knew what was coming. It was getting braver and braver. At first, it would just stand on the inside of her closet and breathe. No one heard it but him. It was the sound he had heard countless times in the past before he was put in the box. Very faint, shallow breath that almost sounded like dust floating in the air. From that moment on he knew he had to be on his guard. For her sake, and for his. After a few nights of breathing, there was the scratching. Its nails skating across the door never hard enough to leave a mark, but he knew. Oh, yeah... he knew. After a few more nights of that, it tried the door knob. Much to its happiness it turned. OH JOY! He could hear it. It was so happy behind the closet door knowing that it could get out whenever it wanted, and nothing would be able to stop it. After about a week, it finally got brave enough to actually open the door. It would sometimes stick it’s ugly green eye out of the closet, and at once the little girl would squirm in her bed. He just sat in the chair, not moving, not even shifting his eyes from her for a second. He didn’t want to give himself away.
Eventually the thing would get brave enough to come out of the closet, and that’s when he would make his move. Until then, it’s best to remain still.
This same scenario played itself out over and over again night after night, month after month, and as time went on, the girl in the crib got stronger. Her mind began to focus more clearly when she was awake. She could even stand by herself now. This meant the thing in the closet was getting stronger and stronger as well. It could manifest itself in different ways now. It could be a bump, a thump, or a cat’s screech. It was the sudden chill in the air that made the hair on your arm stand up, and your skin pucker. It used to make the light in the closet burn out so no one would see it if they should for some reason, need to get into the closet at night. Oh, it was indeed clever. It was almost ready to make it’s move. It’s breathing became less shallow, and every exhaled breath from it would fill the room with a humid stench like one would get from a diaper pail. The worst part of all is, the grown-ups never hear it, never see it. They never remember what it was like to wake up in the middle of the night in an icy sweat with this thing that was all claws, and teeth, and glowing eyes looking right into your soul. They never, never remember. All this time they think of a nightmare as something that only lives in the mind. A manifestation of the stress of having to work a nine to five job, the worry that your husband is banging his secretary, or that your wife is banging her's. A nightmare to the grown-ups is mysterious lipstick on a collar, and a bottle of antacid tablets. It’s a little too much wine at dinner, and a little vodka in your OJ in the morning just to get you out of bed. That’s what nightmares are to them. A child doesn’t know from these things. When they are very young, a nightmare is reliving the hell of being born. Your entire mass being shoved through an opening no bigger than a quarter, and that sudden feeling of gravity. For nine months, they are surrounded by water, and they float. Gravity and the cold air are a nightmare. These things are soon forgotten, and the thing grows in the closet. It starts out very small. A child’s brain is soft and squishy. It can’t retain anything at all when they are brand new. They are sponges that suck up what’s told to them. They are creatures of instinct, and nothing more. The thing doesn’t have much strength then. It’s small, infinitesimal, but that changes. As the child gets older, and the brain solidifies, the thing in the closet takes form, and grows until one day it’s finally strong enough to emerge from the closet, and scare the hell out of them. That’s what a real nightmare is... and that’s what he’s waiting for. That’s the day when he will make his move. The day came sooner than he thought.
It was exceptionally dark that night. There was no moon to speak of, and the street light was dying as soon as it hit the blinds on the window. She slept knotted in her blanket like she usually did, and he was at his post never taking his eyes off of her. He heard the familiar sound. Oh, it had been a long time, but he knew that sound. The closet door opened all the way. The doorknob barely touching the wall behind it. It stuck one of it’s green eyes out of the closet, and peered around the room. There was no danger it thought, and another equally green eye poked out of the closet. The two of them looking like glowing tennis balls attached to tethers. The clawed hand came out next. It touched the threshold of the doorway just to make sure it could get out. There was no problem. If it were capable of being happy it would have right at that moment. It’s big ugly, stinking feet moved over the threshold and into her bedroom. There he was. Free of the closet it was able to do it’s worst. He slithered over to the crib where she lay, and just looked down at her. Ugly blonde haired child, Ugly perfect skinned beast. She would pay. She would pay just like all the rest of them for countless millennia. He could see her eyes moving wildly behind her lids. He knew she could see him... The dreaded closet monster. It was coming for her. The closer it got the more agitated she became. Tiny beads of sweat broke out on her forehead, she started to squirm around in her crib, and make the most inaudible sounds. It’s eyes glowed at her feeling of terror. Her nightmare was coming to fruition. It was loving this.
The beast was so involved in the sleeping one that he never saw her protector slide himself off the chair, He moved quietly around the crib, while his claws began to extend themselves from his stumpy paws. Then came the teeth, oh yes, the teeth. They were carefully hidden, stitched up behind his lips, but they could come out if he really wanted them to. His black button eyes began to glow a deep menacing red as his fur bristled. He was mad. This was a big closet monster, and it was hurting his little girl. The protector stood and planted his feet firmly on the ground and roared as loudly as he could. The closet monster flinched when he heard the noise. He’d heard it countless times before, yet it still managed to scare the hell out of him. That noise was the nightmare for a nightmare. The creature was more afraid of that than even those infernal nightlights that were cropping up all over the place. Nightlights, blankies, all of these amulets to protect against him. They were strong, but the Protector was the strongest of them all. He swung around, and saw the brave little bear standing there, and roared in it’s face. The bear responded by smashing his clawed paw against the thing’s chest. The creature winced, and tried to make it’s way back to the closet. As the door was swinging shut, the bear could hear the little girl screaming. She had woken up. He turned to look at her, and the closet monster swiped at him knocking him across the room just beneath the crib. The lights in the room went on just as the closet door silently closed. The daddy came in and scooped the girl from her crib, and held her tight in his daddy arms, while the mommy hovered around, and smoothed the hair from the girl’s face. The girl quickly fell back to sleep in her daddy’s arms and they put her back in the crib.
“She must have had a nightmare,” the mommy commented. As they were making their way to their room, the mommy tripped over the stuffed bear that seemed to have fallen off it’s rocking chair. She looked at it and clucked her tongue as she noticed the popped seam. She would sew it tomorrow. She placed the bear back onto it’s rocking chair, leaned down, and kissed it on the head.
“Watch over her little bear,” and she turned out the light and closed the door behind her. The bear smiled, and the little girl curled up into a ball, and had a nice dream.