A Fathers Day Tale

By Succubus

Mary snuggled herself deep into her blankets, trying to curl up into a tight ball. Nothing but her cold little nose peeked out from behind the big comforter. She shut her eyes tight, praying, "Please, God, make it go away, Please, God..." On and on Mary mumbled her mantra, hoping against hope that what she had seen wasn't real, that she had imagined it all.

"Yes," she thought, "just my imagination. Kids are always seeing things. Feeling things." She wasn't convincing herself. The shadow, just a shadow, moved slightly. The light in the room adjusted, a deeper patch of darkness swept over Mary.

"Please God, it's not real, make it go away...." Urgency was creeping into Mary's voice, panic was fraying the edges of the stern voice in her mind--the one that told her it was all her imagination. Another voice was getting louder, and this one had nothing but fear in it. Mary pulled her blankets tighter, tried to bury herself deeper into her bed. Maybe if she was really still it would just go away.

Mary held her breath, listening, listening: her ears tuned to every creak, every sigh of the old house. There. Right there--it was a shuffle, a movement. It was walking, slowly, softly. She heard it draw closer.

She screwed her eyes more tightly shut, her form a huddled, trembling little ball with all those blankets wrapped around her. "Nooo..." she didn't know what she was saying no to, she just knew that whatever it was, it was bad.

A breath blew hot across her exposed nose, a fetid smell, rank and rotten, hung in the air. Mary drew a breath and the smell invaded her, it's stench making her gag. She coughed, shoving her face into the blankets to stifle the noise. "If I keep my eyes shut tight, I'll wake up tomorrow and see this is all a dream."  Even as she thought it, Mary couldn't believe it herself.

It was bad, and it wanted her, that was all she knew for certain.

Her mind conjured up images of every monster she'd seen, of every bad thing she'd imagined. Her prayers turned to whimpers as Mary felt the covers being pulled off of her.

"No..." she mewed, still holding her eyes shut tight. The blankets peeled back further, exposing her curled up little body in it's sea green nightgown to the chill air. She covered her face with her hands, sobbing, begging to God, but still refusing to look.

A hand as cold as ice rested on her thigh, and as the tears started to flow from little Mary, another blast of foul air stung her nostrils.

She turned her head, trying to hide in her bed, pressing herself hard against the wall. The hand slid up, pulling the nightgown with it. Mary cried hard, no longer bothering to smother her sobs in the blanket. Another hand clapped down across her mouth.

Mary opened her blurry eyes to finally see as a voice called out to her.

"Hush Mary, my sweet little girl, Daddy's here."