Abigail & A Thing Called It

Abigail’s parents were at their whits ends. She was 7 years old now, a year ago, she had no problem going to sleep on her own. But since her birthday a few weeks ago, she has put up a fight every night at bedtime. Abigail told her parents a tale of a slithery shadow. “It’s been watching me sleep.” She tells mom and dad.

“Please don’t leave me alone in there.” Abigail pleaded with her parents in her soft, little voice and her puppy dog eyes were filling with water. “It’s gonna get me” she began to wail, and mom picked her up and placed her gently back into bed. Dad wasn't in the doorway anymore. Mom kissed Abigail’s pale face and tucked her in tight.

“Baby doll, nobody is comin’ to get you.” Mom stroked Abigail’s wild brown curls and laid up next to her on the twin-sized frame. Abigail knew what her mom said was wrong. She felt it there already. Hiding, Lurking, waiting to strike. A venomous serpent with a long frame and a harsh bite.

Mom started to sing. Abigail loved the Frozen movies, and she found a smile listening to mom’s voice ring out the lullaby from the second film. Mom sheltered the exhausted girl under her arms. Abigail was asleep before mom sang the closing line of the tune. Mom pulled the blankets up over Abigail’s narrow shoulders and placed a kiss in the center of her forehead before leaving the room and turning out the light. But Mom didn't check under the bed. And didn't check in the closet. Mom didn't pop her head to take a look out the window or search the neighboring tree for some snarling creature with jaws that bite. No. Instead, she simply turned out the light.

An hour later, the frigid air chilled the room instantly as a heavy gust of wind rushed into the window. The biting cold woke Abigail and she shivered. Her teeth rattled. Her breath was an icy fog. Abigail searched the room with her eyes only; the rest of her face and down to her toes was hidden behind a Scooby-Doo comforter. The only exception being the tiny tips of her fingers that she held up the blanket with. Abigail reminded herself that she was on the second floor. She was safe here. Her bed was safe. Her room was safe. Her home was safe.

Abigail liked it when the wind whistled. It reminded her of watching the coyote get crushed by one of his failed attempts in taking out the roadrunner. She liked watching the bad guy get taken out by his own traps. It made her feel safe. She believed that bad people were the same. That they would be caught or perished in their own failed attempts to hurt others.

Tonight, the wind groaned. It moaned. Abigail remembered the ghoul that she had been afraid earlier that night. A tall, dark, skinny silhouette slithered across the floor. Abigial froze. Her eyes panicked. The groaning grew louder and there was restlessness in them. Yearning. Abigail ducked beneath the covers. She whimpered. She covered her mouth. She didn’t make a sound. Abigail listened. It was silent.

Abigail slowly poked her head out of the covers. Her little brown eyes frantically searched the room again. The shadow, the ghost, the serpent, the whatever-it-was; it was no longer there. Abigail told herself, Mommy’s right, it’s all in my head. Just a bad dream. Abigail laid back down. Abigail closed her eyes. Then opened them. Then closed them again. And opened them again.

Abigail carried this way for ten minutes. Then she silently slept once more. A shadow that had been crouching began closing in on his target. It slid its janky body up underneath the covers. Slowly. It didn’t want to wake her up. Not yet. It hunched over her defenseless frame and smiled with a hideous smile. A sly smile. A smile that tells someone that It’s up to no good. But there was no one tell and that made It smile more.

It sealed stuck duct tape on her mouth and used his much larger body to pin her down. Abigail strained to scream through the tape. She managed a muffled squealing noise that was too quiet to be heard even across the room. Tears rushed from her frantic little eyes. It sealed her mouth with layers of tape that stretched around her whole head. The tape hurt when it tugged on her baby hair. Abigail’s squealing evolved into grunting. She thrusted her body upward. She tried to fling it to the moon. It wasn’t worried though. It was never worried. It had already visited Abigail’s parents before it came back for her.

In the bedroom down the hallway from where the It held her captive, Mom and dad laid in a discombobulated, bloody mess. There would be no telling which pieces belonged to who. Not until they examined the parts further anyway, and it would be long gone before they were found.

It slithered itself between her delicate thighs. It pushed. It forced. It stabbed and Abigail felt a pop inside her and a warm liquid traipsed down from her private area. Abigail wondered if she had peed herself in terror or because of the tearing pain the it has caused. Abigail looked. Not at the it. Not at her legs. Abigail looked at her bed sheets. The liquid was dark, and Abigail could smell metal. Iron. Mom taught me. Mom said sometimes when there’s blood it can smell like iron. She understood now. She is bleeding.

Abigail held her eyes shut tight. Abigail threw her fists into the its shoulders, but it pressed harder. And then it pressed harder. And the pain between Abigail’s grew worse, and Abigail began to feel her privates throbbing. Stinging and throbbing. She wanted it stop, but it just moved faster. In and out. In and out. In and out. Abigail screamed in her head for it to stop. She begged. She pleaded. She prayed. It didn’t stop.

It didn’t stop until it was satisfied. It groaned and hissed. It dropped its head and bit her small collarbone, leaving a heavy imprint. It thrusted forward with one final oomph and made a strange sound. A weakening groan. Abigail had never heard such a sound. Then Abigail felt a sharp and sudden point thrust up into her ribcage.

It lay there on top of her for a minute. It was exhausted. It had strained itself so much, attacking Abigail and forcing her back down. Just a minute. It picked up its head and kissed her on the forehead. Then it left her there. Abigail was alone. She was alone and bleeding, and she had duct tape on her mouth.

Abigail huffed and puffed through her nose as the tears raced down her cheeks. She was hurting and still bleeding, and she grunted and groaned her muffled groans until she realized that it had gone, and her body was free. Abigail unraveled the tape around her head.

Abigail ran screaming down the hall down to her parents' room. Abigail howled like a tortured demon when she saw the misshapen pile of body parts plopped down on the bed. Mom and dad’s blood supply stained the sheets, drenched the carpet, painted the walls, and splattered across the ceiling.

Abigail ran back to her room but stopped at the door. Abigail saw something on her bed. Or was it someone? Under the comforter, there was a lump. And the lump had been shaped like a person. There was blood. One spot near the top and a lot of it near the lower half of the lump. Abigail inched closer to the bed. She breathed heavily and she crept closer still. She kept going until she stood beside the bed and that’s when she realized she didn’t feel the pain anymore. She shuddered.

Abigail’s small, shakey arm hovered towards the edge of the blanket. She could no longer hear the beating in her chest which seemed so loud just moments before. Abigail grabbed and pulled. She closed her eyes. And then, she opened them. Abigail howled again. Louder and she did so with her whole body.