Night Thing

Chasing the light; ventured too far into the night. Thump-thump, each foot landing heavy. Thump-thump, each heart beat tight in my chest. Keep running, go faster; ravenous teeth right behind, taloned shadows reaching closer to slice and shred. Screaming wind and choking dark: eager, awaiting to pull me apart. Right foot, left foot, one more, one more! Can’t see, keep going, don’t fall down….” “Mommy!”

Jolted from sleep by her frightened call, I reach toward the foot of my bed to help Sunny climb up in the dark. One hand over the other we wrestle tangled blankets, both of us damp in sweat. I know she’s been crying, my arms sticky from her face. She seems so small, so scared. I feel my chin tremble and eyes burn for just half a second before forcing a reassuring tone, “I’ve got you.” Her fearful silence gives way to an exhausted wail.

“It jumped out and tried to bite me!” she sobs, clinging to me, dirty nails sinking into my chest and tricep. “I’m so glad it didn’t bite you though,” I soothe, fighting back tears of my own. It has been a harrowing twenty-four hours. “What did it look like?” I manage to ask, tucking a curl behind her left ear and wiping smeared cheek-snot off with my shirt sleeve. For a moment, she stops crying to think…” It had sharp teeth” and with a whimper, tears roll down her cheeks again.

“Oh yeah?” I interrupt, “Did it have wings?” She sits up away from my chest to look earnestly into my eyes: “No. It had sharp claws to scratch you!” “Oh no!” I gasp, “squeezing her a little closer, “You don’t need to worry about that, I won’t let it!” Now she has a lot to say: “Him was really, really big, and scratch and bite and I have to run away and him fast and I said no bad monster but him no listen and keep chasing me!” I swing my legs off my bed, hoist her up, rubbing her back as I creep forward in the dark, just enough glow from the street lamp stealing through the blinds to guide my way.

I whisper, “you got away, you were faster.” I add a little bounce to my walk, gently repeating “shhh,” rhythmic and smooth. So fast her weight sinks in my arms, safe back in dreamland, for now. Squatting to lie her back in bed, shoulders groan and back twists. I rest her on a cool pillow, tucked in a soft light blanket, favorite kitty stuffed toy by her side. A kiss on the cheek, and then another. Kneeled at her bedside, head bowed, eyes heavy, I just stay there.

Minutes or maybe a lot more pass, I am reluctant to leave. At this moment, we’re safe, nobody has to run. I keep thinking, get up. This hurts. But I am stuck, aching and scared of another nightmare. Just move. I roll from my knees to sit like a toddler, criss-crossed on the floor.The room is less-dark from this direction, moonlight casting away sharpness of the shadows. I hear his tired, steady breaths before I see his approaching form. Slipping a warm hand gently under my arm he starts to lift, his voice like velvet in the static night, “let’s go.”

I clamber to my feet by crawling my hands, one and then the next, up Sunny’s butterfly-adorned walls while my husband turns on a fan. Back in bed, which has been made and the pillow turned-over cool and dry, he gestures me close. Leaning into the rise and fall of his chest, I feel the cool kiss of the fan’s air, and I remember sleeping soundly from there.