The Sandman
By Arwyn, of the Lios Alfar
Once, as ever, there was a little boy, his parent's only child, and the delight of their eyes. And like all little children, he objected strenuously to going to bed.
"It's far too early" he would point out, when asked to pack up his toys and go upstairs. "I know I won't be able to sleep. I should just stay up and play, just ten more minutes." But his parents were tired, and his drum was noisy, and they wanted a break.
"The Sandman will make you tired" they told him, and his mother took him upstairs, wished him the pleasantest of dreams, tucked him into bed, and softly blew out the candle.
The boy lay quietly in his bed, shivering in the darkness. He did not want to sleep, he knew he could not sleep, for there was something in the dark, lurking, waiting for him. He had felt it there the night before, waiting outside his window, but now he knew it was there, inside the room, looking for him.
Desperately he pulled the covers high over his head, for as every child knows, they can't get you if you are under the covers. He did not move, he barely even breathed, and the sound of his heart and the rushing blood in his ears filled his mind, but over this, he heard the sounds of the thing moving around outside, looking for him, waiting for him. He cowered entirely still, curled up tightly beneath the covers, praying that his hair did not show, and his feet weren't sticking out, for it if could see him then he was lost. He did not know how long he lay there, but he knew that it was out there, in the room with him. He heard its soft breath, the sound of its footfalls as it prowled around the room, looking for its prey. He did not know what it was, but he knew that he could not escape.
Finally, oh so finally, it gave up, and it left. Cautiously, when he was sure it was gone, the boy poked his head out from under the covers and peered nervously around the room. The room was empty. The thing had gone.
Terrified, the boy through into his parent's bedroom, and threw himself upon his beloved mother. Crying, he blurted out the whole tale: how it had come in, and was looking for him, and how he had hid and escaped. He begged his mother to tell him what it was, and to allow him to sleep with her, for as every child knows, they can’t get you if there are adults around.
His mother jumped at this, startled awake by his sudden assault. Sure from her dear son's state that something terrible had happened, she listened with growing impatience to he tales of his nightmares.
"You were dreaming" she tells him, unable to keep the sharp tone out of her voice. He shakes his head, no, it was real, and begs again to be allowed to sleep with his parents. But the child sleeps restlessly, and kicks, and his parents must work in the morning.
"It is a dream" she tells him "And dreams cannot hurt you. But if you need proof, then next time when you think there is something there, then take your head out from under the covers, and look. And you will see that there is nothing there."
"But then it will see me! It will know I am there and it will catch me" His mother frowns, irritated by this childish idea, and reiterates her suggestion "Look out from under the covers, and you will see nothing."
Shaking, her son nods, though this answer does not satisfy him. She picks him up and carries him gently back to his room, tucking him in and blowing him a kiss before she leaves.
He tries to sleep, but the fear remains. He turns his head this way and that, watching the shadows in the cold white glow from the crack beneath his door, as the curtains twist in the breeze, and the dark corners writhe from the light. He doesn't so much see as feel it's entrance, and suddenly he knows that the thing is back once more.
Forgetting his mother's advice, he all but screams as he pulls the blanket high over his head, fingertips pushing it down so the thing cannot lift it, legs curled up tightly against his chest. No part of him remains visible, and his breath comes in frantic, terrified gasps.
He mustn't scream, for it will hear him. It's there, looking for him. It knows he should be there.
He lies perfectly still, cramp building pain in his limbs, his mother's words in his ear "Look out from under the covers, and you will see nothing". He is scared to look out, for what if it is there? But perhaps she is right. She must be right. He will pull the blankets from over his head and look out into the bedroom, and he will see nothing, for there is nothing to see. His mother told him so, and it must be true.
Softly, he curls his fingers round the very edge of the blanket. He grabs it tightly, but only by the edge, for he does not want his fingers to show, to give away his intention. All he needs is his courage, and he will look out and see nothing, for there is nothing to see.
Braving the terror, he suddenly jerks down the covers and looks out. And sees it, for it was waiting.
Its hand suddenly shoots forward, claws reaching for his face. And though the boy jerks back, screaming, the hand reaches its target, hits the boy's face, and beyond.
He looks out from under the covers and he sees nothing, for he has nothing to see with.
And outside the window, the fiend munches on his soft, blue-pupiled prize.
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Author's note: "Source: A Polish cartoon which was on at 4am one night a few years back. And if I didn't have insomnia beforehand..."
All Works are © Original Author
(OC Author - Marianne Wells)