Every so often I write something and when I come back to read it I creep myself out. This is one of those times. While it was supposed to be a child afraid of the dark in a new place, there is a bit of a darker undertone at the end of the story, that leads the reader to a darker place. Read at your own risk.
There was something in the dark, and she didn’t know what to do about it. Right now she was as safe as she could be with the blankets pulled to her chin, and to leave the room, to get to the light she would have to run right by it and be at her weakest.
She felt the tears welling up in her eyes as the fear passed over her in waves, each one stronger than the last, but she was brave. She didn’t scream. She wanted to, she knew with a single cry that someone would come, and rescue her, but then they would know that she was just that kind of kid that cried.
She was too old to believe in monsters, but there was something in her room in the darkness and she was afraid. Lying here in this new place, new bed, she was alone in a room for the first time she could remember. At the group home they were packed into the room, so overcrowded Ms. Edwina had almost lost her funding. She overheard the inspector saying that the only reason they didn’t pull it was because it would do the same things to all the other places in town.
This was her sixth foster home, and each one before this had other kids. Most had more than one foster kid, but even the homes with real kids, she still had to share. This place was different. It was big, and empty and for this first night it was just her and her new foster mother. She was told there was a foster father as well, but he was out of town, she would meet him tomorrow.
She shuddered at the thought. She hoped he was better than the last one. Anyone would be better than the last one, she didn’t even like to think about him. Ms. Edwina said that was better, that it was best to just put him out her mind. She would never have to think about it again.
This place, this place would have to be better. She would be safe here, if she made it to morning that is.
Anne McSommers' Writing Nook 