Little Timothy

The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night a candle burned in the window.

Timothy nervously stands facing his large bedroom window. Pushing himself onto the tips of his toes, he grips the side of the frame while clutching the soft edge of his nighttime blanket. The peculiar light had attracted his attention when he woke from his slumber. At first, he had only noticed the warm and damp sensation in his bed. “Oh no” he thought, “Not another accident! Mommy won’t be happy”. Timothy had recently turned 7, and his mother had made it expressively clear to him as he blew out the 7 small candles on top of his chocolate birthday cake that he was now a big boy and couldn’t continue wetting his bed like a baby. Taking this conversation gravely, from that point on, every evening, Timothy made sure to use the bathroom right before bed, and whenever he woke up in the night. It had been months since he had wet the bed, so when he felt the familiar warm puddle, he was disappointed in himself.

It was only as he rose from his small bed that the flicker of light caught his attention. He had never seen any light shine within the small backyard cabin. His family mainly used it for year-round storage and didn’t make a habit of visiting the cabin at night, or any other day for that matter. Seemingly hypnotized by the dancing flame, Timothy feels warm urine trickle down his leg.

“Mommy” yells Timothy.

“I wet the bed”.

The last part of his sentence is muffled as he contains his tears. Repeating his calls, Timothy quickly understands his mother will not come to him. He softly slaps himself on the forehead, the realization dawning on him. He is a little man now; his mother won’t come clean up after him. He is on his own. Tightening his grip on Mr. Snuggles, Timothy feels his hot urine drip from his fist and off the end of his nighttime blanket. He must have completely emptied his bladder during the night, and he whimpers accepting the fact that he will need to change his pyjamas and the sheets before regaining the comfort of his bed.

Timothy is overwhelmed, but he knows what he needs to do in order to be a real man, like his mother would want. Making sure to keep the lights turned off to not wake her, Timothy silently opens the bedroom door and makes his way down the flight of stairs leading to the first floor of the home. Reaching the ground floor, Timothy notices the backdoor of the house is slightly ajar. Peeking through the crack in the door, he sees the cabin window and candle flicker in the night. A rhythmic “Shh, Shh, Shh” can be heard coming from that direction. Suddenly, Timothy feels as if his eyelids weigh a ton and an intense wave of fatigue grips him making him temporarily lose his footing. Getting groggily back to his feet, he returns into the hallway. His mother must be cleaning the cabin tonight, but he shouldn’t get distracted. He still needs to fix his mess.

Stripping his clothes off, he leaves them on top of the laundry machine and reaches into the dryer to pick a matching pyjama shirt and bottom with bright yellow trucks on them. Pulling them on, he gathers a pair of sheets cleanly folded next to the machine. Timothy is exhausted as he slowly crawls back up the stairs in his new Pyjamas while dragging Mr. Snuggles and the clean sheets behind him. He painstakingly makes it back to his room, the climb was difficult, his tummy isn’t feeling quite right either. Taking in a deep breath, Timothy gathers his remaining energy to remove the covers from his bed and pat the mattress with the urine-soaked sheets to absorb any remaining liquid from the bed. He makes sure to neatly fold the stained sheets on the floor next to him. His mother will be so proud.

With one last effort, he places the new sheets on the bed and observes his accomplishment with a smile. Finally, after what seemed to be an eternity for little Timothy, he places himself back onto his small mattress. Timothy holds his urine-soaked blanket to his face. The smell is disgusting, he will take care of washing Mr. Snuggles in the morning. Right now, he needs to rest. Letting sleep take over, Timothy falls into unconsciousness, a small grin on his face. The last thought floating through his mind that night was: “I’m really a little man now!”

***

Police sirens ring out within the neighbourhood. The smell of decomposition emanating from the small cabin behind the house where single mother Mary and her son Timothy lived was what had alerted the neighbours that something was very wrong. As investigators arrived, they were faced with a gruesome scene; Mary’s dismembered and severely decomposed body was sprawled in the middle of the small cabin. A candle had burned out and a broken hand saw lay next to her mutilated corpse. It was instantly clear to investigators that the murderer had attempted a cover up, but was faced with a faulty saw. Leaving the scene in a hurry, the intruder had left, disappearing into the night. A blood-soaked knife was also discovered lying in the cabin, but it didn't match any of Mary’s wounds...

Investigators discover the lifeless body of little Timothy in his bed. Two distinct stab wounds are evident on his abdomen. A trail of blood showing Timothy’s last movements are visible; from the window, down the stairs, to the back door, to the washer, and back to his room. A heap of blood-soaked clothes is found neatly placed in the laundry room, making it clear to inspectors that after being stabbed, little Timothy had woken up and attempted to clean the room and himself before getting back into bed. He had most likely not understood what had happened to him.

Little Timothy now lays motionless in his neatly made bed cradling his blood-soaked blanket, a small grin forever glued to his face.