This post is in response to a Sunday Scribblings writing prompt.
The monster crouched in the dark, yellow eyes glowing. Two little girls clung together, nervously calling out to the creature.
"Hello? Mr. Monster? You aren't going to chase us, are you?"
The monster's silence frightened them more than any growl. The sisters crept cautiously along the side of the house, their eyes locked with the monster's yellow orbs. When they reached the corner of the building, they turned and ran screaming, certain that the monster was inches behind them. If they ran faster, they would be more likely to trip on an unseen obstacle, perhaps a root of one of the large tree near second corner of the house. If they fell, the monster would surely catch them.
Rounding the second corner, they picked up speed in a clear stretch of yard. There was more light here. The adults were on the other side of those windows. The girls would be safe there, if they could just reach the door.
Gasping past the third corner, they stumbled into the pool of light by the door and collapsed on the carpet inside, giddy over their escape. The adults smiled at the children and continued their conversation.
As I recall, the game of "Monster" didn't really have much in the way of rules. My sister and I just had to make it all the way around the perimeter of our grandparents' house in the dark without the monster catching us. We knew the the monster with the glowing yellow eyes was really our uncle, holding two flashlights and hiding in the shadows. We knew it was him, but what if we were wrong? That doubt, that belief in the possibility of monsters, made the adventure so thrilling. We had conquered the dark! We could do anything!
Categories: writing, SundayScribblings