Create A Scene Tuesday (13)

Yes! October is here! Time for some Halloween fun!

What scene will you create? For rules – please see Create a Scene Tuesdays.

This week:

 Character – A Monster

 Action – Trying to Scare Someone

 Setting – Anywhere

My entry: The monster waited in the walk-in closet as the light of the bedroom seeped under the door frame.

“Jasmine, there are no monsters in the closet!”

There was a soft mumble as the three year old spoke through her sheets that covered her face.

“Would you like me to send Boo in to inspect the closet for you?”

The child nodded.

“Alright!”

The monster leapt back, squeezing himself onto a shelf. The door opened and the light on the ceiling illuminated the closet.

“Alright, Boo. Take a look around.”

A sly black cat entered the closet, strolling over to the opposite side. His whiskers twitched as he sniffed the air. The bright, green eyes scanned for the slightest hint.

Boo turned to the back of the closet, slowly making his way to the shelf. The monster slipped past once the cat’s back was turned. Boo’s nose wrinkled, catching the monster’s scent. He wheeled around.

The monster held his breath, staring down at his purple feet stuffed in a pair of dress-up high heels. A flower bonnet covered his face.

“Boo!”

The cat turned and ran out the door.

“You see. No monsters. Good-night, Sweetheart.”

The lights went out. The monster edged from his hiding shot to the door. He opened it carefully. His orange eyes darted left to right. There was no one in sight. He grinned, revealing neon green teeth that glowed in the dark.

He moved swiftly towards the bed when he heard a growl. From behind a chest, Boo leapt onto the monster, hissing and clawing. The monster panicked. He threw the cat to the floor and rushed into the closet. He slammed the door shut, his heart racing in fear.

“Purr-eow.”

7 thoughts on “Create A Scene Tuesday (13)

  1. Heather Rosdol says:

    I could see the headlights of the cars as they made the sharp curve, bending through my room like an arm grabbing me. I was too old for monsters, but I knew she was there just the same. She’d haunted me for years, lying under my bed. I slept in the corner of my room, my back against the wall facing out. My dog slept against my front. My extra large stuffed penguin insulated me from the cold concrete block. I saw her shadows dance on the wall as the cars drove by. She wanted my feet. I’d always known that. Did I dare do it? I let one toe slip out from under the covers. I slowly edged it to the side of my bed. Her anticipation was tangible. What would she do? I thrust my foot over the side of my bed and she grabbed it with her clawed hand. I screamed for my mother. The lights came on and underneath the bed was checked. Nothing. But the crimson streams of blood running from my feet.

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  2. Bridge Marie says:

    Hey, cool challenge! I love your cat, and your stuffed penguins, Heather.

    Here’s mine…

    Shannon’s monster was tricky. He was something between a Boggart and a Ringwraith – shapeless but shaped largely by the books Shannon had read in middle school.

    The monster lurked beneath Shannon’s dorm bed when she went to college. It had been tricky moving from home here. The monster had been familiar with the haunts of Shannon’s childhood home. There were plenty of nice, dark spaces in the spacious old Victorian. Sometimes the monster hung out in the attic and sometimes in the basement and, in the winter or on stormy fall nights, he found shelter under Shannon’s bed, though there had been less and less space there these last few years.

    And then the dorm room. Cheap blue linoleum floor and unforgiving florescent boxes in the ceiling. The monster felt himself shrink from the light and shouts of new friends.

    But when Shannon’s roommate was in bed and Shannon herself sat alone, working on an assignment for that awful accounting class or facebook stalking the boy from the sub shop, he felt free to sneak out again. He knew Shannon could sense him. She would frown and snuggle into whatever out-sized hoodie she was wearing. She would pick nervously at the Lean Cuisine dinner she’d let get cold. This was always the kind of stance that meant he could pounce at home. She would stay up reading for hours to make him go away.

    Now, though, she just left. She went off to find friends because she knew there was always someone awake, and she left him behind to slink back into the shadows, uncertain of what shape to take, and wishing for the haunts of home.

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