Sheets

First Fear

By Kevin Harrington

         The night seemed to be holding its breath like it was too afraid to breathe and break the silence. Everything was quiet, waiting instinctively for something to happen. Children secure and warm under thick blankets drooled and dreamed. Then a cool breeze found its way into town and rustled the trees breaking the calm. A low rumbling in the distance announced a pending storm. Angry gangs of clouds rolled in and took up their positions like good soldiers. Thunder shakes the ground. Kids wake up and instinctively pull the sheets around their necks. Lightning temporarily blinds them as it fills every corner of their rooms. Fear tells them to count the seconds until the lightning strikes the Earth again just as their parents had told them to do.  One, two…a fuse is lit and the sky explodes brilliant white arcing into the ground and driving the shadows away. The storm is directly over them. They scream and hide under their covers. Clouds split open and the rain flexes its muscle in a torrent finding every crack and crevice. Lightning flashes again and again. Anything that crawls walks or runs heads for home and hole. The storm is brutal, quick and soon spent. A switch is turned and quiet returns. Water drips and runs swirls and scurries, ever busy to tidy up.

         The wind blows and the clouds flee leaving the night clear again. A full Moon appears and shines through windows casting wicked shadows on walls. In one boy’s room the shadows command attention and radiate fear. Scooby Doo standing guard bravely glows in an outlet giving the child some courage and then winks out. Fear sends the sheets over his head. The child rolls into the fetal position as one thought crosses his mind. ”Scooby Doo, where are you?”

         Restless things squeeze under the door and jump out of cracks. Crawl from under the bed and leave their homes in the closet. They slink from the safety of shadows and gather in the middle of the boy’s room. Slowly they rise from the floor and take form. Five black and pitiless things huddled together waiting for direction. One stands out from the crowd, a little taller than the rest. The others stand a few steps behind showing the proper amount of fearful respect. Ten years old Timmy Hays is the object of their attention.

         They gather in his room like a football team. Chunky hands cup over each other’s shoulders in a malicious huddle. The leader in the center turns slowly as he talks making sure they all understand his plan. Each thing acknowledges him with head nods and grunts. Dark plans were being drawn in Timmy’s honor.

         Timmy has never seen them but he knows who they are. He’s heard the stories about the small malformed creatures wrapped in black rags. Their faces covered with torn and bloody gauze. Beady eyes filled with hate stare through rips in the bandages. Oversize hands with cigar shaped fingers and thick legs with bare swollen feet. They were sinister little things with great strength and cunning. The story was told around camp fires and meant to scare little boys. But daylight always pushed those stories out of their minds.

         All of them turn around and faced the sheets hiding Timmy. The leader smiles as bugs crawl over his lips and face. The ghoul squad waits for a gesture from the leader to move. He knows they’re impatient as he watches them hop from one foot to the other. His hand rose and they froze, he thought, “Wait for it.” He made a gestured and they started.          

         Timmy heard a chair being dragged, clothes being shuffled, draws being opened and closed. Quiet whispers between unseen things and grunts of agreement and then his bed swiftly lifted in the air and hovered. His stomach felt like he was on a Roller Coaster as his bed started spinning around several times before they stepped back and dropped it. Timmy came up and off the mattress for a second when the bed hit the floor. He clutched the sheets and instinctively rolled onto his face as his hands grabbed the mattress. He screamed into his pillow muffling the sound. Pee flowed freely down his leg as his Bladder gave up the fight. It pooled for a second until his thirsty mattress could drink its fill.

         Where’s dad….mom? The bed went up and then round again. From over a foot off the ground they dropped it. The sound was louder then a car crash but no one heard it and no one came. Timmy was sobbing into his pillow ready to give up. Then as quickly as it started it stopped. Everything was still; quiet, for over a minute. “Where’s dad”, he thought. “Dad would kill these things”. Not a sound. “Can’t they hear the noise?” “Can’t they smell these things?” he thought. Timmy was going to run, he was desperate! His body was frozen by fear; he had to make a run for it. Then he heard laughter, quiet laughter shared between people who know something you don’t. Like the way Japanese girls laugh and cover their mouths. Shame mixed with fear that he couldn’t do anything. Wouldn’t, couldn’t …can’t. He slowly rolled onto his side as he wiped the snot from his nose with his sleeve.

         He told his Father about them but his dad dismissed them as nightmares and Oreos. But here they were, the third night in a row at ten o’clock on the button. Tonight felt different, like the first two times were practice runs. He pictured one of them out in the hallway with a clipboard in its hand verifying his name, his would be the only one on the sheet and written in blood. Two boxes were beside his name, one with scare beside it and the other with kill.

         In Timmy’s mind it had a cell phone and was chatting amicably with Ghoul Central and then hung up. The Thing’s hand went up to its left ear and grabbed a NO.2 pencil and wet it with its lips. The pressure from the pencil started to the left center then down to the bottom and then off to the right in the kill box. It was all about paper work. Be organized, dot the I’s, cross the T’s, slit the throat.

         “Nobody’s coming for you boy”, the leader said. The voice was gritty like it was chewing sand. Timmy was startled, were they reading his mind? “We can see you, hear you… smell you,” the leader said. Timmy knew they could smell his pee, fresh, pungent and over whelming trapped under the sheets with him.

         “Can’t hold your water, boy,” one of the things spat out from his right. “Nothing like the smell of piss in the morning,” another said from his left. They were all snickering, trying to one up each other. The leader thought for a second and took two steps forwards and said, “Smells like victory,” he whispered right into Timmy’s ear through the sheet. Timmy jumped and slid to the far side of his bed. A second passed and they all burst out laughing. It was loud and long. He could picture them on the floor holding their stomachs and kicking their feet in the air. The leader stood motionless, smiling, enjoying the moment. Fear for Timmy was turning to hate.

***

         Last month Timmy invited a few friends to his house on a Friday night. It was a sleep over and they all brought their sleeping bags and watched old horror movies, the really good ones from the fifties and sixties. They ate tons of crap and spent the night scaring each other. His best friend Ray waited till things got quiet and said; “Things come to my room at night”.  Everyone started to laugh but Ray didn’t and after a minute the laughter trailed off. “I told my dad and he said that it was nothing”.  “Don’t worry about it Ray, it’s just a bad dream, everyone gets them, it’ll pass,” he said. “He was lying, I can tell. It’s what he calls a white lie, something you tell someone so you don’t hurt their feelings,” Ray said as he looked at the ground. “He knows something”!

         “The next day my father was on his way to work, running out of the house like he always does. At the top of the stairs he stopped and turned around and hesitated  as if he wanted to tell me something he shouldn’t, “Hide under the sheets it acts like a shield, they can’t get through. My dad looked scared for a moment and then came over and hugged me”, Ray said. “He then held me hard by the shoulders as he looked straight in my eyes and said, “Remember the sheets!” “I know he wanted to tell me more but he didn’t and he went downstairs. I grabbed my jacket and started down after him but stopped at the turn on the stairs. My dad hadn’t left, he was talking to my mom and I heard him say, it started”.

***

         The sheets were pulled in close, like shrink wrap clinging to his body. He was safe…except for the tear! He was doing a school project on his bed and accidentally cut his sheet with scissors. It read his mind and went for the tear in his sheets. Timmy’s fist clutched the sheet where the tear was and tucked it under his body. It hissed and pulled back from the bed.

         The others looked at the leader for instructions, it waited a few seconds then it turned around and said, “Leave!” They were confused. It reached out to the nearest one and ripped out its throat as if were the most normal thing in the World. The thing fell to the ground clutching the gaping wound and then instantly turned to black dust. An invisible wind whipped the dust into a little vortex, it rose a foot off the floor and then disappeared. The rest of his troop didn’t need to be told again and screwed. “The boy is MINE,” he said to his horde’s fleeing backs”. He turned back to Tim took a second to gain his composure and said in a pleasant voice, “There’s nothing like an example to get your point across, hey Tim”.  They all disappeared back to the closet, corners, and shadows. The thing was alone with Timmy and he started to shake.

         It just kept talking. Things aren’t suppose to talk, their job was to scare you then leave”, Timmy thought. “Sorry about that Tim, you don’t mind if I call you Tim?” a raspy labored voice said. “Timmy is a name for pussies, don’t you think”? As if he wanted Timmy’s opinion. “Well it’s the same routine every night, we scare the crap out of you and you hide under the sheets. What do you say we try something different? How about a little one on one action Tim,” it said. Tim clutched the sheets tighter.

         The creature casually picked up a chair with one hand and whipped it across the room; it hit the wall and shattered on impact. Timmy flinched and then he heard it pull down his bookcase. Baseball cards, toys, books and Computer discs hit the floor and spread out like playing cards. It paced around the room looking for something else to destroy. “Where are my fuckin’ parents”, he thought. The thing picked up one of the fallen baseball cars and said, “Roger Clemens; boy he couldn’t get away from the Red Sox fast enough”. The card went up in flames in his hand. “I’ve got to get out of here”, Timmy thought. “Have I got anyone’s attention yet”, it said clearly loving it.

         Casually walking over to Timmy’s Computer he pointed at it and it turned on. “Anything on here you don’t want anyone to see,” it said. Its little legs pumped as it moved closer to the Computer. It waited for it to boot and the windows logo to clear. “Let’s see, no porn, no good web sites, you’re a pretty boring boy Tim”. It continued scanning the files just by will. “What’s this, is it a love letter?” Timmy stopped squirming. “Good now we got something to work with,” it said. Shall I read it?



Dear Sharon



         It had Timmy’s full attention. “Who’s Sharon?” he said. “DON’T READ THAT!” Timmy yelled and immediately placed his hand over his mouth. It smiled. “Read what pal, your adolescent dribble, juvenile prattle … your pre pubescent ramblings. Oh the sugar flowing off this screen could rot every tooth for a square mile”, it said. Timmy didn’t want to run anymore he wanted to kill this thing, jump off the bed and kill it. “Now, now Tim, temper, temper, I’m just doing my job”, it said clearly enjoying itself. Timmy was so mad and afraid. Tears rolled freely down his cheeks, his hands were clenched in tight balls by his sides as he gnashed his teeth.



The thing took a long breath turned to Tim and said in Timmy’s voice:



Dear Sharon

I go to the same school as you and sit in 3 classes with you. You don’t know me but I think you are pretty and smart. We live on the same street just on different ends. My birthday is on Saturday and I want you to come, please. It’s 113 Magnolia Street, the same street as yours.  My mom says it’s okay and that she will pick you up if your Mom says it’s okay..

Timmy Hays



         Timmy was shocked to hear his voice come out of that thing’s mouth. “It’s just a trick Tim”, it said, “something I picked up over the millennium”. “But let’s get back to the letter Tim, where do I start. I know you’re almost eleven but seriously, you’ve got no game”, it said. Timmy was getting madder by the second and he only understood half of what this thing was saying. The thing’s voice was changing from his voice to a, I’m very disappointed in you teacher voice. The voice was of his homeroom teacher, Mrs. Miller.

         “First of all you never say please to a woman Tim, just tell the bitch what you want and she’ll do it or else”, it said as it paced in front of the Computer monitor. Timmy rolled on his side and pushed his head into the pillow trying to block out the voice. Let’s see, blah, blah, blah…, and oh on the end you should put, PS; I’m a pussy. That’s what Paul Evans calls you; hey look everyone it’s the pussy. Everyone would laugh and point as long as you took the brunt of Paul’s jokes and they didn’t. The thing was reading the computer and his mind at the same time. Timmy’s hands clenched the pillow as he buried his face further and let out a scream of exasperation.

         The thing was rambling about his courage, moral convictions and other crap Timmy didn’t understand. It was a chastisement of Timmy and everyone like him by a three foot tall monster, invader, judge, jury, and executioner all in one. He was off the point and out of his mind. It was a rant to let Timmy know why he was going to die instead of just being scared. Children weren’t killed very often to make a point but tonight one would be. Just when the creature was wrapping up his diatribe and summing up to his jury of one he made a mistake and said. “And, when I’m through with you I’ll stop by Sharon’s house....it’s on the way.”

         The Timmy button had been pushed. Paul Evans and now Sharon was that button. Timmy’s legs involuntarily coiled like a spring as he pushed off the bed. His body flew through the air covered by the sheet. He looked like Casper the unfriendly ghost. He landed on that tormenting piece of shit that had invaded his room. The thing put its hands up to protect itself and screamed as Timmy started to wail into it. The thing fell back trying to protect its face. Timmy’s hands were possessed as he landed one blow after another on the thing’s head and chest. It cried out, it burns, it burns. Timmy couldn’t hear it over his own screams. “Die you fuckin’ cocksucker, die, die, die.” Timmy was on the move and crying uncontrollably. It tried to run and he cornered it, still crying, still screaming. He couldn’t see it he just kept swinging until he connected. Every punch Timmy threw was like a flare being burned into its skin.

         All the swear words he ever heard and wasn’t suppose to use came flooding out of his mouth. “Mother fuckin’, son of a bitch”, he screamed at it through tears. The monster couldn’t fight the boy as long as he wore the sheet. There were rules here, old rules that can’t be broken. To the thing the sheets are Kryptonite

         It fled from the boy and headed for the safety of shadows. Timmy kept swinging as he heard it run away. He followed the sounds and ran after it. The thing was just a few steps from safety and that’s when it caught a break, Timmy’s feet got caught in the sheet and it slid off his head.

         Timmy was exposed in all his glory standing there in his Sponge Bob underwear with the pee stain covering most of his right leg. He was a boy again. The thing had slid to a stop and wheeled around on its right leg and faced Timmy like a Gunslinger. It looked just the way it was described in the story except that it wore a hood. A bandage hung over one eye and short stubby fingers clenched into fists as it stared at Timmy. But the smell was the worst. This was the smell of death, the smell of hate and disease all wrapped up in a small package and standing in front of him.

         They both stood there for a second, sizing each other up. Fear was creeping into Timmy’s legs gluing him to the spot by his bed, eyes wide. “No one sees me boy and lives”, its voice enraged as it spoke through clenched broken teeth. “Attack me you bug, worm, you insignificant slug,” it took one step forward as it spat out the words like they were poison. “I AM OLDER THAN TIME AND I SERVE A PURPOSE,” it bellowed as it took another step. ”I weed out the weak, the refuse, the shit of civilization,” its voice loud and clear. “And I will weed out you boy"! It took another step forward. Timmy legs were locked and a few more drops of pee were offered up by his bladder.

         The thing was only a few feet away and gaining momentum in speech and speed. Its hands were extended and clenched the air in anticipation of ending the boy’s life. Eyes filled with hate looked up at Tim as it reached forward and tried to grab his hand. Timmy fell backwards and skidded away from the creature, it followed him. The bed was in the way of his retreat and he used it to pull himself onto his shaky feet. He turned and the creature was standing there and was on him in a blur. It grabbed his left wrist, the grip was cold, powerful, electric; it shocked him back to reality. He pulled away at the same time it pulled him down. “Your God awaits you Tim,” it said in triumph. Timmy’s right hand reached out to grab anything, it grabbed the bed post and he tried in vain to pull himself free. The grip was too powerful and he was yanked to his knees, face to face with his tormentor. “It was a short life Tim…Sharon won’t even miss you," it said.

         Both of the creature hands started to go for the boy’s throat as his hand slipped off the bed post. He was six inches from its face. It was dark but Timmy could see shapes crawling over it. The rules, the boy was only meant to be scared not killed but he had broken the rules before.

         Timmy hand fell on the bed sheet. The sheet! The realization hit him like a bullet. His hand balled up the sheet and he pulled. The elastics strained as it lost it’s grip on the four corners of the mattress and then with a pop it was free and sailed through the air. Smiling in triumph little hands closed on Timmy’s windpipe as a dark shape descended over both of them.

         “WHAT HAVE YOU DONE”, it screamed. The sheet became a shroud, the sheer touch of which was agony to the beast. It screamed and trashed trying to get out forgetting all about Timmy. Hands pulled, leaving little sparks, where they touched cotton. Franticly fighting it way out it fell to the floor and rolled out of the sheet. Just glad to be free it headed for the safety of shadows but not before Timmy had jumped on its back.

         No fear, Timmy had become Tim, bravest almost eleven years old this side of Boston. With no sheet to protect him he pummeled the creature head. Tim wiped old tears off his face with his sleeve as he screamed at it. Small hands gained purchase on the rug as the creature pulled itself forward towards the shadows. Tim wouldn’t allow this thing to torment him again. He reached for the sheet that had fallen on the floor and threw it over his new friend. The scream filled the room as it struggled under its prison. On its back like a turtle it rolled wrapping itself up in the sheet like a dinner roll.

         The moon was high and Tim’s eyes had become accustomed to the light. He straddled his enemy who had given up the fight and was lying quiet and still. One wild eye starred at him through the tear in the sheet he had cut with a pair of scissors days before.

         The room lit up, the glare forced him to shield his eyes. The sheet stirred and went flat. His father was standing over him and talking but he couldn’t hear him for a few seconds. “What are you doing”? “Why was the door stuck”? “Look at your room, look at this mess”, his father said. Timmy stood up, walked over to his father and hit him with both hands on his chest. “Where were you”? “Where were you when I needed you”? Timmy said through tears as he looked past his dad at his mother. His father was stunned into silence. Both parents looked at each other as Tim started to sob, he held his father fiercely around the waist. His father confused, held his son and stroked his head while he cried. They stayed that way for awhile, Tim would explain later.

***

A few days later!



         Ray had been lying in bed about a half an hour when he heard the shuffling and low murmurs. They were here and they weren’t screwing around. Something was different, something had changed. He was already under the sheets, he wasn’t screwing around either. After a minute without any warning they went to work. They went right to the bed and started to lift it and stopped. There was Ray standing on the mattress with the sheet over his head and he was staring at them through two holes he had cut. They backed off; the things were confused and looked for direction from the leader. He was confused too they were being challenged. Rarely did anyone stand up to them, this was unheard of and for once they knew what fear felt like.

         Five ghouls were milling around in his room. One stood out, he had a rag over his face and only one wild eye stared out. His hand went up and he made a gesture to retreat, better to regroup and get Ray another night. They started to turn and run and froze. In there path were four ghosts waiting for them. Four sets of sheets with eye holes cut into them stood in their path and each ghost held another sheet in their hand.

         Fear turned to panic and they ran. Sheets filled the air like nets and caught every one of them but the leader who defiantly stood his ground. They were wrestled to the ground and covered with the sheets like shrouds. The screaming was awful but it stopped along with the squirming and finally all the sheets went flat. One by one the sheets were pulled back revealing nothing more then a thick black greasy stain. Even the stain disapated after a few seconds.

         The ghosts stood up and approached the leader and surrounded him. One ghost stood out from the rest. The ghost’s hand went up and grabbed the sheet covering its head and pulled it away like a Magician. There stood Timmy Hays. This was not the scared ten years old of last week; this was eleven years old G.I. Joe Timmy complete with Kung Fu grip.

         The thing didn’t look scary any more, it looked pitiful. “I know what you are now and you won’t be scarring any kids around here anymore”, Timmy said. The thing looked at him defiantly and found its voice. “You can’t kill me boy, I’m eternal,” it spat. “I scared your dads and grandfathers for thousands of years. I’m that bump in the dark, that noise under the bed, that closet door that won’t stay shut. I’m what make you a man. I’m your first fear boy,” it said defiantly.

         For an eleven years old Timmy came up with a great line and tossed the sheet over its head. “You’re my last fear,” he said and tackled it. The screams pierced the room bouncing off the walls but they all knew no one could hear but them.

         It was like riding a bull and Timmy was losing his grip, that’s when his friends realizing the danger, pig piled him. The weight of five kids was too much and the thing collasped on the floor. By chance Timmy had used the same sheet that he had cut with scissors. The cut lined up with its eye. It looked wild and afraid, then it looked defeated and finally the sheet went flat. They pulled it away revealing a greasy stain, the thing was gone.

         Slowly they stood up and took off their sheets revealing five little boys. They looked at each other wiping away tears, sweat and childhood. “We should warn other kids about them, there must be more than just these five”, Ray said. They all nodded. Timmy walked over to the light and turned it on. “Maybe we should warn everyone”, he said and hesitated, except maybe Paul Evans”. They all laughed.

THE END