Well, it happened again–it’s Friday!
I hope you’re all doing well. Schools are starting to get out, it’s beginning to feel like summer, and it’s time to crack down on the writing.
So, I hope you like my story. Tell me what you think if you want, or just stare at the title and wonder what sort of crazy I am. Whatever.
The Baby Blanket Squad
By Phoenix B. Meadows
When I was small–and more than a little naive–I thought that hiding under the blankets would protect me from monsters. Even then, I found it somehow childish, in only a way a ten-year old can find a thing such.
I would hide, huddled in terror, hearing the words all mothers tell their children, “There are no such thing as monsters.” In every language, in every tone, those words are whispered, screamed, and and told to us–the babes–in every home.
A song of denial.
I break from the remembrance and take the manilla envelope she has been holding out towards me, for what I suddenly realize has been some time.
“Kill it,” the woman says, my fingers closing on the envelope. My brightly painted nails stick out against the dull color.
“I always do,” I tell her, a grim sort of resignation in my voice.
I frown at the use of my first name, but make no comment.
“Be careful, those with the trueborn sight are rare–we need all of you.”
Naturally, it isn’t some warm sentiment Somehow, I’m not surprised.
I only nod and say, “I was born to fight what lurks under the bed, you think I’m stopping now?”