I Let the Monster In
By
Katherine Sanger
“I let the monster in.”
Maddie’s mother woke up, barely, and registered her daughter’s presence in the doorway of the bedroom.
“What, honey?” she asked, groggy with sleep.
“I let the monster in.”
Maddie’s mother woke up, sleep deserting her mind.
“What? What monster?” Oh dear god, had she let in a burglar? A rapist? A murderer?
“You know. The monster.” Maddie’s voice made it clear that her mother was being stupid.
“I don’t know. Tell me.”
“Well. It was hot. Cause it’s summer.” Maddie waited.
“Yes, it is hot.” She didn’t scream at her to hurry up. It would only make it take longer.
“I was hot. Cause it’s summer. So I moved my blanket. I wasn’t under it. And then I heard a noise.”
“What kind of noise?”
Maddie shrugged. “A noise in my room. Under my bed. It was the monster! I let him in!”
Maddie’s mom sighed. Monsters that go bump in the night. Sleep began creeping back into her head.
“It’s okay. There’s no monster in here. Sleep with me.”
“What if the monster followed me?” Maddie asked.
“There are no monsters in my room. They can’t get in here.” Her mom flipped the blanket off her legs.
Maddie climbed into the bed, snuggled up against her mother’s back.
Maddie’s mom waited, feeling her eyelids growing heavy. “See? Feel better?”
Maddie didn’t say anything. She had fallen back asleep.
Maddie’s mom turned slightly, trying to get comfortable with her daughter leaning on her. That’s when she felt it – something cold, sharp, moving up her leg. The leg outside of the blanket. She stifled a scream. What was it?
Whatever it was kept moving up her leg. It reached above her knee, began moving up her thigh.
Maddie’s mom kept her eyes closed. Didn’t look down. It would stop. It would go away. This wasn’t real.
And it did stop.
Before it had reached mid-thigh, where the blanket lay, it stopped.
She sighed in relief. It hadn’t been real. Just her half-asleep brain playing with her.
Maddie’s mom shifted, turned to hold Maddie in her arms, to comfort her about her monster fears, to assure her that she knew what it felt like to be scared of something that wasn’t real.
She reached out to stroke Maddie’s hair. It felt wrong. Wet. Stringy.
She opened her eyes.
It wasn’t Maddie in her bed.
It was something in Maddie’s skin, in her body.
The eyes in Maddie’s head were coated in a white film.
Her hair had turned into something that looked, and felt, like thin strands of green seaweed.
Her face, covered in blood and sweat, her mouth open, wide, gaping, filled with sharp teeth and a pointed tongue. The lips stretched into a smile as Maddie’s mom looked at what had once been her daughter.
She had let the monster in.
Katherine Sanger was a Jersey Girl before getting smart and moving to Texas. She's been published in various e-zines and print, including Baen's Universe, Bewildering Stories, and RevolutionSF, and edited From the Asylum, an e-zine of fiction and poetry. She’s a member of SFWA and HWA, and the president of the Bay Area Writers League.
By
Katherine Sanger
“I let the monster in.”
Maddie’s mother woke up, barely, and registered her daughter’s presence in the doorway of the bedroom.
“What, honey?” she asked, groggy with sleep.
“I let the monster in.”
Maddie’s mother woke up, sleep deserting her mind.
“What? What monster?” Oh dear god, had she let in a burglar? A rapist? A murderer?
“You know. The monster.” Maddie’s voice made it clear that her mother was being stupid.
“I don’t know. Tell me.”
“Well. It was hot. Cause it’s summer.” Maddie waited.
“Yes, it is hot.” She didn’t scream at her to hurry up. It would only make it take longer.
“I was hot. Cause it’s summer. So I moved my blanket. I wasn’t under it. And then I heard a noise.”
“What kind of noise?”
Maddie shrugged. “A noise in my room. Under my bed. It was the monster! I let him in!”
Maddie’s mom sighed. Monsters that go bump in the night. Sleep began creeping back into her head.
“It’s okay. There’s no monster in here. Sleep with me.”
“What if the monster followed me?” Maddie asked.
“There are no monsters in my room. They can’t get in here.” Her mom flipped the blanket off her legs.
Maddie climbed into the bed, snuggled up against her mother’s back.
Maddie’s mom waited, feeling her eyelids growing heavy. “See? Feel better?”
Maddie didn’t say anything. She had fallen back asleep.
Maddie’s mom turned slightly, trying to get comfortable with her daughter leaning on her. That’s when she felt it – something cold, sharp, moving up her leg. The leg outside of the blanket. She stifled a scream. What was it?
Whatever it was kept moving up her leg. It reached above her knee, began moving up her thigh.
Maddie’s mom kept her eyes closed. Didn’t look down. It would stop. It would go away. This wasn’t real.
And it did stop.
Before it had reached mid-thigh, where the blanket lay, it stopped.
She sighed in relief. It hadn’t been real. Just her half-asleep brain playing with her.
Maddie’s mom shifted, turned to hold Maddie in her arms, to comfort her about her monster fears, to assure her that she knew what it felt like to be scared of something that wasn’t real.
She reached out to stroke Maddie’s hair. It felt wrong. Wet. Stringy.
She opened her eyes.
It wasn’t Maddie in her bed.
It was something in Maddie’s skin, in her body.
The eyes in Maddie’s head were coated in a white film.
Her hair had turned into something that looked, and felt, like thin strands of green seaweed.
Her face, covered in blood and sweat, her mouth open, wide, gaping, filled with sharp teeth and a pointed tongue. The lips stretched into a smile as Maddie’s mom looked at what had once been her daughter.
She had let the monster in.
Katherine Sanger was a Jersey Girl before getting smart and moving to Texas. She's been published in various e-zines and print, including Baen's Universe, Bewildering Stories, and RevolutionSF, and edited From the Asylum, an e-zine of fiction and poetry. She’s a member of SFWA and HWA, and the president of the Bay Area Writers League.
