Mosters and Magic Blankets

 

      When I was nine years old, I was afraid of the dark. Horrifying things lurk there and they freeze you in the blackness of your bedroom and everyone, under the age of twelve, knows this.  

 

    It also goes without saying that Monsters have the ability to bite off a young boys head with razor sharp fangs the size of No. 2 pencils. They chase you up the basement stairs only to snatch you back from the very last step.  Next, they’d happily start gnawing away at your ankles as they dragged you- kicking and screaming- behind a groaning furnace so nobody could hear your shrieks of terror as your pajamas were torn to bloody shreds on the cold, cement floor.

 

    Bedtime is serious business when you’re nine; and a dangerous time too. A lot of effort is expelled trying to avoid the inevitable: You’d hide from your parents. You’d feign interest in their television drama shows. Or, end up clinging to yourself in a cold bathtub, while the tips of your toes began looking more like raisins as you shook the fillings out of your teeth. You’d try hard to be quiet, thinking they might forget about you altogether, but eventually they’d come for you.  It was as if the parents were in on it - The bedtime feeding frenzy. The parents would feed their kids to the monsters so that the monsters wouldn’t come looking for them.

 

    Nonetheless, each evening played out the same:  When the little hand hit ten, and the big hand was at twelve:  it was game over. This was when the freaky things woke up and started lurking around the house, dragging their arms on the ground, stinking clumps of fur and terrible breath. They’d giggle deeply in corners as you heard what sounded like marrow being sucked out of old bones. You could see them gaze out from shadowy nooks where old shoes sat. They were looking for something more to eat; something preferably, fresh.

 

    At the time, I knew of only two things in the world that could fend off monsters. They were the blanket on my bed, and my old Night-light.

 

    My blanket was my ‘force field’, and I made very certain that no part of my body fell out from underneath it, especially my feet.  I kept my toes safe and only allowed the tip of my nose out from the top of my bed.

 

    Every kid knew that Monsters couldn’t get you when you were underneath your blanket and when the Night-light was on.  Anything that dared to dwell in the black shadows was merely zapped into nothingness when the little light came on and it was the rule that goblins, crazy maniacs, werewolves and vampires, couldn’t stand the glow of this Light and would scurry away to darker bedrooms, and closets, and haunt the less fortunate kids that lived on the other side of the shopping mall.

 

    My bedroom was exactly twenty and one and a half steps from the hallway bathroom, to the safe confines of my bed. I timed it out and could make it in less than five seconds (if you made sure to clean up all toys to ensure a clear running-lane). You can imagine that I hated going to sleep, but there was a process nonetheless, and this process worked.

 

It went pretty much like this:

 

    I’d stand in my hallway, my left arm outstretched as far as it could reach with my finger on the switch of the bathroom light.  I’d point myself, as if in a race, towards my bedroom.  I’d flick the switch down and bolt down the hall as fast as I could run.  Next, I’d grab the doorway with my right hand and use my momentum to swing myself around in an arc, and into my bedroom where I’d launch myself to bed and immediately fling my heavy blank over my body.  From there I immediately went into a fetal position. My feet rarely touched the blue carpet of my room during this feat. We obviously had to beware of the snakes, whatever it was that sat waiting under my bed.

 

     From there I’d wait; sometimes for an hour before adjusting myself.  You see, I know that monsters can wait a very long time before they attack.  If they notice even the smallest itch underneath the blanket, they charge at you with their sharp, gnashing teeth and you’re done for.  Any friends that you had, ended up making stories about you at recess until, after awhile, you were forgotten altogether.  Just some kid who stopped coming to school one day, oh well.  Let’s play dodge ball.

 

    Then one day I realized something that changed my life forever. It was this: bedtime didn’t necessarily mean that you had to go to sleep, or, that you had to lay there terrified with the lights off.

 

     I had a lamp next to my night stand. When I turned it on, life changed for me forever.  I had power.  I had light! I had…nothing to do.

 

     I couldn’t play music because my parents would hear, I didn’t want to get out of bed because of course; Monsters.  So, one night, I took some comic books and hid them underneath my bed. When my parents left the room, I turned on the light and began READING.  Eventually, I graduated from comic books, to actual book books.  I realized that letters formed words, and words had meaning and some meaning could actually change the world.

 

    I read, and read, and fell asleep, and when I woke up, I’d read some more.  I had books under my bed, and along side of it, in the closet and scattered in the hallway towards the bathroom.  I read about fat people, and cars, farming and weather, space ships and cowboys.  I learned about whales and what it’s like to lose two of your favorite Labradors.  I cried and laughed and got angry when my character didn’t succeed.  And, most of all, the monsters got bored with me, and they went away, eventually.

 

    One night, I realized that I hadn’t thought of monsters in my room for over a month or two.  I actually turned off the nightlight..  And, one night, I actually let my left foot dip out from underneath my blanket, open to the night air. Free! I wasn’t amazed when I found it still attached to my body the next morning.

 

    I write now because it’s inside of me, it’s a compulsion.  I write because it inspires and takes away fear and allows me to understand myself better.  I write because letters make words, and words mean things, and some things can change the world.