Bring Me Home

"Please bring me home..." A little boy's tale of how his Mummy didn't bring him home from the Monsters that haunt him.


3. To

        Jackson tucked himself timidly into his bed, alone once again. He could hear Mummy downstairs drunkenly whispering to someone. Possibly that man from over the road again. He always showed up when Mummy rang him and practically slapped Jackson to his room. It made him want to cry, but he was eight now. All grown up. Right? So why did he feel like a stupid, horrible, young kid again? Jackson huddled under his covers, wiping away the tears with his tattered, familiar scented small toy polar bear he'd had since he was a child. Before Mummy was an alc-alco-before she started to drink, but after Mummy's brother Edward had died and gone to heaven. Mummy had gone all sad, muttering that they weren't close enough, and that's probably why she turned to that red, sometimes creamy coloured fizzy one, liquid that made her happier than he could ever hope to.

        Pulling the warming covers further over his head, Jackson drew his knees up to his chin, put his skinny, knobbly arms around them and clutched his trusty polar bear Ringo in his pink fingers. His face started to turn red and hot, being under the covers for this long. Jackson needed air. Poking his head slightly out of the covers, Jackson greedily accepted the coolness of the room and the amount of oxygen that filled his lungs. Sighing and closing his eyes, Jackson hadn't noticed that the closet door had creaked open, the curtains started to breeze out even though there was no wind and that the room had been colder than it should've been. Nor had he noticed the crouching, slouching monstrous figure half hidden behind his slightly open door. It's wide, vague triangular shaped mouth gaped open in a grim smile to reveal row upon row of sharp, serrated teeth. Swirly, dark tribal looking markings on its face seemed to pulse with a golden energy. One eye looked like a normal human eye; the other appeared inverted, with black surrounding a piercing white pupil. The body of the Monster was spindly, similar to spiders legs. Or that game-Slender. It rose, bone joints cracking and clicking out of constant misuse. The smile grew wider with each inch it stood, each centimetre it took toward the nearly asleep Jackson. The Monster had no feet or hands, just an inky darkness that seemed to grow with the shadows that it came from. It now stood over Jackson. The Monster reached for him.


"Won't you bring me home..."





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