The Monster in the Closet

I clutch Mr. Pooh Bear closer to my body, as if the moth eaten stuffed bear can protect me from what is coming.  He looks up at me with his one remaining button eye seeming to say, “What do you want me to do?”  My flannel pajamas are sticking to my clammy skin.  Beads of sweat trickle down the back of my neck.  One bead slides down my cheek, making my nose itch, but I dare not move to scratch it.

I muster the courage to peer through the slats in the closet door.  Through the dim light I can see my bed, the covers pushed aside in a heap from my flight to the closet.  The room is empty, but it will not be for long.

Somewhere close, floorboards groan.  My heart is in my mouth.  I recognize the whine of the rusty hinges on my bedroom door.  Shadows ebb and flow in my field of vision through the wooden slats of the door.  My jaw is locked so tight it aches.  My heart is a violent banging in my ears; I am sure the sound must give me away.  Surely the beast can hear it, sense it.

It is so close now I can smell it:  a mixture of sweat, blood, and rancid meat. There is also the cloying scent of decay and something else I cannot quite place.  It is one of those scents that stir fond memories you can not quite grasp.  As it draws closer to my sanctuary, the air becomes more pungent.  A scene flashes in my mind offering me a momentary reprieve from my terror.  It is the day I found my first dog, Charlie.  His long golden locks are a tangled mass from mud and rain.  He licks my hand in an offer of thanks for the shelter from the elements I have provided.  Terror crashes down on me again as I realize that is the scent I could not quite grasp.  My pursuer smells of wet dog.

The dim light that has been filtering through the slats in the closet door is completely swallowed by darkness.  I am already resting at the back of the closet, but I press my back harder against the wall, desperate to be as far from the monster as I can. I clench my jaw tighter still, against the scream I feel rising in my throat.  My mouth is dry; my tongue feels like leather.  Even if I were to try to scream I wonder if I could manage even a dull croak.

The thing looms on the other side of the door sniffing the air.  Each second feels like hours.  It emits a deep menacing growl.  It knows I am here.  My flesh crawls and the hairs on my neck stand on end as its claws rake along the slats of the door.

The door bursts open and I am screaming now.  Tears pour from my eyes though they are closed tight against the horror before me.  My body is a thing of flailing legs and arms, but there is no escape.  I pray this is all some dream from which I will awake, but I know god has forsaken me.

Resigned to my fate, knowing I deserve it.  As the darkness closes in, all I want is for it to be over ….

*****

The young orderly’s face was ashen.  His eyes were still wide with fear as he stared at the woman in the hospital bed.  She was out cold now but he imagined her rising up at any moment.  He could not shake the image of her as she was only moments before:  a monster with limbs flailing, spittle spraying from her lips as she kicked and clawed at them.  Billy ran a shaking hand along the gashes on his cheek.  Questions lingered on his lips he had no voice to ask.  What the hell was she doing hiding in the closet anyway?  What was she so afraid of?

Henry gave his eyes a roll but turned his head so Billy could not see.  What the hell do they expect when they take a job here? He thought but did not say.  Henry had to admit Billy was having one hell of a first night on the job.  A part of Henry remembered many years ago when he was as green as his trainee; fresh out of college and full of confidence.  That shit didn’t last long.

Henry had tried to warn Billy to stand back.  The woman had looked harmless enough huddled on the closet floor, her arms wrapped around knees pulled under her chin.  But Henry knew better.  “Mad Maddy” played out this same scene every night. Billy nearly got his eyes clawed out before Henry pulled Maddy off of him and was able to shoot her up.

Henry double checked the restraints, giving Billy a little longer to recover. Henry would have to reprimand him, for his own good.  Panicking in that place, dealing with those crazies, could get you killed.

Satisfied the patient was down for the night, Henry moved towards the door.  Billy maintained his position.

“What happened to her?  How did she end up here?” Billy licked his dry lips. His tone was curious but sad and sympathetic.

Soft hearted, Henry thought.  Yeah, that shit won’t last long either.

“Her name is Madeline Kincade,” Henry began in a matter-of-fact tone.  “She snapped and murdered her whole family in the middle of the night, right down to her kid sister and the family dog.  Madeline ripped the little girl apart where she hid in her bedroom closet.  I hear the cop who found the body still has nightmares about finding that kid in blood soaked flannel PJs clutching some old Teddy Bear.”

Billy shivered, and then moved to join Henry by the door.  As Henry turned out the lights he cast one last glance over his shoulder at the sleeping form strapped in the hospital bed.

“Yeah, she is a real monster.”