Saul's Angst:

All he had to do was cross the room, step through the door and hide inside of the closet. It was open an inch, enough to see the void beyond. He circled his thumbs from his bed, his feet tucked beneath himself in one of those positions that only children are able. Voices from below resonated in young Saul’s room, mainly his fathers, it shook the room with its dull bass that carried. His mothers didn’t carry as well, only the upper end of her frequencies could migrate whichever floor she was on. Nonetheless, Saul couldn’t make out the words that came from either of them, but he did know it was high time to hide.

He'd been close to the closet only once at night, it occurred when he was seven, whatever laid beyond the doors scared him so much that he hadn’t returned, unless under the protection of sunlight’s cleansing abilities. He thought that turning eight might bring new courage, but it hadn’t, the shadows were as scary to him now as they had always been. He summoned enough gumption one night over dinner to report the monster to his father. He told him about the closet, and how sometimes he could hear the creature.

“It’s all imagination.” His father said without reluctance, almost as though he hadn’t contemplated for a second that it might be true.

“No.” Saul cried. “I know he’s in there.”

“He?” His father laughed. “Have you seen him?”

“You can’t see him. He’s, well, he’s invisible.”

“There’s no monster in the closet young man. Get that out of your head.” It was said with such conviction that for a moment, Saul felt silly reporting it.

“Are they real? Monsters?” He added.

“Indeed, unfortunately. But listen, they aren’t in your closet or under your bed, they are in the real world and they look just like you and me.” His father was too old to understand, too out of tune with the paranormal to detect it. “Any monster in your room is a figment of your imagination, do you understand?”

“Doesn’t that make it real for me”? He asked, unconvinced by his father’s argument.

“Well.” He smiled. “Just eat your food.”

Eight brought no new bravery and neither had eight and a quarter, but Saul didn’t have enough time to wait until nine. The voices from bellow had crescendoed into full shouts, the wide ceiling above appeared to Saul as a vast open sky with no moon, the only light in the room came from the dim golden glow emanating from atop his bedside. He picked up the lantern and positioned himself toward the closet, it beckoned him with its door ajar, wanting to eat him whole with its slated, bi-folding teeth. He placed a foot down and the tip of his big toe touched the floor, with it, a primal sense was charged. The feeling was sharp like needles stabbing from the inside out, originating from behind his ears and journeying down his spine. A crash came from the floor below, followed by the sound of snapping wood and cries unmistakably from his mother, and there were other voices too, strange ones. The scent of cold air caused Saul’s little heart to pound against his chest, it pounded to warn him, but he already knew. His other big toe made landing, all the other piggies remained in a curled and suspended state above the touch down zone awaiting further orders. His mother sobbed and howled, the toes waited, more yells, more waiting, and then they uncurled, furniture crashed, and they waited some more. When he had asked his mother if monsters were real, she gripped onto him and swayed him side to side, raining kisses of adoration into his unkept hair. The toes touched down; he gave the order after remembering her words. “If they come, you’ll know.”

Between Saul and the closet were plains of rough hardwood that was hell for the bare foot. “I need to hide.” He said, his bottom lip quivered, the monster in the closet waited with the patience of a predator. “Please don’t harm me.” There was nowhere else he could hide, the closet was especially equipped for this occasion, he’d been shown how to lift the carpet and how to find the hatch below. He stepped toward the closet with his lantern leading the way, his attention snapped to his bedroom door, and then it returned to the closet, and then it would snap to the bedroom door again. There was violence in the voices below, orders from the strange men, demands spoke in foreign dialect, he heard his father plea in a fractured form of the language. His parents monsters had them now, he had to face his own. The unknown nature of his own beast didn’t feel like the better option, maybe his father was right, maybe it did only exist in his mind. He continued forward in half steps and then quarter steps, he tightened his eyes. “You aren’t real.” He whispered, it whispered back by gently swaying the closet door. “You aren’t even real.” There were no toys to bring for comfort, they were hidden many months ago in the basement of their old home, a much nicer place with carpets, two bedrooms and a real bed, instead of the two crates and old blankets that he had to sleep on. They were happier there, his mother wasn’t scared by the radio, his father didn’t blockade the door or keep sharp knives in every room, and Saul could sleep at night.

The hardwood scratched his feet and the chill that crept under his door swirled around his ankles. His teeth rattled and clanked against each other, his loose tooth at the front felt a shudder away from coming out, he steadied it with the tip of his tongue knowing that he couldn’t leave a single thing behind. His parents had littered his bedsides with adult belongings and had purged anything childlike for this very reason, he was now three feet from the bed but he had four to go, halfway was close, he feared. “I just need to hide for a little while.” He bartered. “I don’t mean any harm.” He hadn’t heard of monsters that could be reasoned with but thought it was a worthy attempt since he was now three and a half feet from its lair. “Please, it’s just until my mum and dad come and get me.” He said at two feet and one third. The light from the lantern illuminated the inside of the closet by was of seeping through the slats, the monster must have receded form the light, as though it was afraid of it, hurt by it, or fearful of being seen, perhaps all of the above.

“No! No!” Now his mothers screams weren’t muffled from travelling through the floor below, but originating from outside and making them clearer in Saul’s room.

“Bring my wife back!” His fathers dull bass had raised in pitch, he was still in the house and was silenced after a loud thud, to which Saul’s mother filled the night like a banshee.

Saul pulled the closet door open to its fullest extent, it was empty while the light was on it, but it was time to extinguish it now. Boots clunked on the lower steps and the strange voices called out with words that Saul couldn’t understand. He stepped into the closet, peeled back the carpet, opened the hatch and waited. The boots were making quick progression up the stairs, but he knew he could have the light on for just a few more seconds, once it was out, he would be at the mercy of the monster, if he wasn’t eaten straight away, he’d have to remember to close the hatch, along with the chord that would pull the carpet back down. “Ist heir jemand?” The boots clunked on the last step and the voice called from mere meters away.

Saul extinguished the light, the bedroom door flew open and the men invaded the room, he pulled the hatch down but left an inch or two to peek through. His monster now swarmed him from his feet to his neck. The two men searched, still shouting in a strange language, the red contorted crosses on their arms were the same that hung in fierce torment from the Eiffel tower, Saul recognised it all too well. It was the symbol of his parents’ monsters, the symbol that forced them from their home, the symbol that hung over every burned city in Europe. He dropped down and pulled the chord. His own monster embraced him and bound him in limbless restraint, blinding him, and blinding him from others. The monster hadn’t consumed him, but guarded him. He breathed the darkness in and exhaled his fear of it, understanding the pact that it offered, and the unconditional love of the devil he knew.