Mr Teddy

What really happens when the monster in the closet comes out to play..

The last sliver of the moon disappears behind a thick cloud, plunging the little room into complete darkness. On a bedside table, a clock’s hour hand crawls by. Within the gloom, a dull scratching arises, muffled and obscure. It is persistent, and soon enough, the small figure curled beneath the sheets twitches.

Slowly prying open sleep encrusted eyes, the child awakens. His gaze shifts up towards his old Mickey Mouse clock. 2:39am. He moans softly, burying his face back into his pillow. Minutes pass in near silence. The tick-tick-ticking of the clock marks a steady yet ominous countdown. The boy rolls onto his back, unable to return to sleep. The scratching returns. The boy's eyes flick open and after raising his head, rest on the large mahogany wardrobe positioned several meters from the foot of his bed. He waits with bated breath, head tilted. Silence. He jumps suddenly as the heavy wardrobe door swings open with a tired, rusty creak. Wide-eyed, the boy stares into the yawning abyss that greets him, a darkness more threatening than the rest of his room.

He blinks, trying to improve what little vision he has. But no, the murky white shape is not due to his blurry eyesight; from within the blackness, a face appears. It is not human.
Slowly the creature emerges, dragging its fat, bloated body. As it approaches, large boils become evident, covering its sickly, veiny skin. It lacks eyes, two smooth craters in their place. A gaping hole lined with jagged, yellow teeth. The boy opens his mouth, but his scream catches. Frozen in his sea of sheets, he watches as the monster lugs its massive, fleshy body towards him. It takes what seems like years for the pulpy mess to get within arms reach. The boy sits transfixed, a look of horror plastered across his face as the the thing reaches out for him with a surprisingly bony claw. Torn and blistered fingers extend towards his face, and a wheezing growl spills forth. Hot breath upon his cheeks, rancid and foul. In a last-ditch attempt, the boy squeezes his eyes shut. Furiously praying like a clergyman repenting for a recent sin. Silence.

A vicious screech erupts not far from his face, and his eyes fly open. His view of the beast is blocked. Valiant and tall for his size, Mr Teddy stands, weapon drawn; the sword appears heavy, but he holds it with ease, a black slime oozes down its length. His chest heaves as he faces the creature, fur bristling. The monster has retreated a few steps, clutching its wounded claw to its chest. There is a pause as it cautiously approaches again, its weariness evident. With a spit-filled hiss, the creature, with its heavy body, suddenly lunges forward. Steadfast, Mr Teddy adjusts his stance, and with an almighty swing, opens a large cut on the monster's stomach. It screeches. Again, Mr Teddy attacks. Again and again and again. The creature falls backwards, unsteady on its small, swollen legs. Feral, painful growls emit from its mouth as it retreats back into the wardrobe, leaving a trail of blood in its wake. And with another rusty creak, the door is shut.

The boy swallows nervously, glancing from the wardrobe to his teddy bear. The black slime drips from Mr Teddy's matted fur as he turns towards the boy, beady dark eyes glinting. With a small nod, Mr Teddy sits at the foot of the bed, laying his sword across his lap. Minutes pass as both boy and teddy bear watch the wardrobe, but the boy soon yawns. Eyes begin to close, and his head droops forward. A metallic twang jolts him awake. He looks at Mr Teddy, who indicates towards his pillow with a furry paw. The boy obeys, letting his head sink into the puffy haven and within seconds he is asleep.

Mr Teddy sits with his paw on the hilt of his sword, watching. Ever vigilant, his glass eyes stay trained on the looming mahogany wardrobe; a bear's work is never done.