Bad Thoughts

One night a mother heard her daughter weeping quietly in bed. Sobbing softly and hugging her pillow, the daughter had wet her bed. The mother was not angry. She lifted the little girl up and changed her pyjamas and then made short work of the bed. She tickled the little girl to get her smiling but that stony face wasn't cracking tonight. As the daughter was welcomed back to a fresh linen bed she seized her mother’s arm with such force it jerked her, it was clear she wanted to stall her from leaving.

“What’s your favourite colour?” The mother smiled affectionately, not showing an ounce of annoyance. She sat down beside her and answered the same questions as the night before and the night before that with the exact same answers. She didn’t know why her daughter insisted on asking these random questions but she didn’t mind none the less if it helped her sleep. Her favourite colour was red, her favourite animal was a cat and she was going to bed not now but soon.

“Did you have bad thoughts again?” The mother whispered softly as she stroked the little girl’s cheek, it was like silk. She moved her hand away though when her head nodded vigorously. “What was it this time? Was it the mummies and the vampires?” Her daughter’s lip trembled and tears trickled from her warm cheeks. “I imagined zombies crawled out of the graveyard and were on their way to our house to eat you.” The mother admired her little girl who was so strong and brave, she had impressively managed the whole sentence before her shoulders began to heave and choke on each sob she fought to contain. “Honey, there’s no zombies and there is nothing coming to get you.” In response she shook her head and muttered. “Just you.”

She ignored the eerie statement and continued to caress her face. “Just go to sleep, okay?” No answer came, only a grip so tight on her arm it almost made her wince. She was taken aback by the terror which crossed her daughter’s eyes.

“I’m scared.”
“I’ll leave the door open.”
“No! Mommy, please!”
“Think about happy thoughts and �"”
“I can’t! The bad thoughts won't go away.”

The mother sighed and stayed with the promise of a few more minutes. “What are you scared of?” The girl asked. She had stopped crying but her cheeks were itchy from the tears. Her mother looked up at the ceiling, thinking. “Oh, I don’t know.” A gulp and a tight finger grip led to the little girl’s whisper. “Do you see him at the end of your bed too?” The mother turned and expressed a look of concern. Was she talking of the Boogie Man? “Um no, Sweetheart... Who is He?” Eyes darted around the room and landed just at the bottom of her bed in front of her wardrobe. A soft voice answered. “The man with the hat.” A chill crept down the mother’s spine. “Is he imaginary?” She wished the answer to be yes but her face fell when a slow shake of the head answered her question.

She had to get a grip, she had to be strong and not pay any attention to this childish nonsense. Her daughter had a very vivid imagination and often dreamed up the wildest things and this was one of them. It was clear she was terrified of her own mind.

A thought came to mind, her father used to wear an old-fashioned hat. “Y’know, my Daddy used to wear a hat. Maybe he’s here to be your guardian angel.” This handsome idea brought a toothy grin alight. “Has he ever said anything?” She shook her head but the smile remained. “Do you think you can sleep now?” Hesitation filled the silence. That was close enough. The mother leaned down and kissed both cheeks and wished her a good night and told her she loved her.

She left the door open as promised and jogged down the stairs to see the front door ajar. Her husband was outside the front probably staring at the stars again. She could hear ads running on the TV so she decided to join him. They stood together star-gazing for what seemed like hours when a lone figure came into view. He greeted them with a friendly wave and continued on his way with a brisk walk. It wasn't cold tonight; perhaps he was in a hurry.

“My old man used to wear a hat like that.” Murmured her husband.
“Mine too.”©