Enough To Know

ENOUGH TO KNOW          James Fox

Jerry knew Jeff was wrong. Someone, or something, was there, in the dark, every night. Jeff always insisted that he was not behind any of the noises or breathing that Jerry heard in his room, almost nightly. But tonight, Jeff announced he had finally given up trying to reason, threaten, cajole or tease Jerry out of the belief that something crept about his bedroom in the night.

For Jerry, the teasing had been the worst; Jeff suddenly flinging the bedroom door open to holler "Boo!" That wasn't really so bad, just childish. But the worse was the malicious waiting until Jerry was asleep to sneak into the bedroom and turn off the night-light or move books and toys to different places in the room. Something Jeff always denied, even suggesting Jerry made that up. Jeff insisted he did not sneak around Jerry's room. But, too many times, Jerry had awakened to a dark bedroom and a sense that Jeff was in the room, which Jeff always denied the next morning.

Now, Jerry felt a bit better about his older brother. While Jerry had always insisted that somebody, or something had crept into his room, Jeff, up to now, had always argued back that he was getting tired of being blamed for Jerry's paranoid imagination. Instead, tonight Jeff had turned to logic and scientific experimentation to prove that nothing rose up out of the dark to stalk about Jerry's bedroom in the night.

Jerry snuggled down in the covers and glanced up at the bedpost above his head. In the night-light's dim glow, he could see the twine cord Jeff had tied to the bedpost and stretched across the room to affix to the pull chain of the lamp on the bookshelf. Jerry reached up and gave just enough of a tug to feel the twine grow taut, assuring himself that Jeff had weighted down the lamp base with enough books that it wouldn't topple. The knowledge that he could quickly turn the lamp on with the twine provided Jerry more security than the dim nightlight, which was prone to flicker and fade at times. For the first time in weeks, Jerry dropped off to sleep in less than half an hour.

The chiming of the hall clock gradually awakened Jerry, but not quickly enough to count the chimes to know how late the hour. Drifting awake, Jerry realized the night-light was off. His immediate anger at Jeff, for turning off the light, quickly changed to fear, as Jerry sensed something creeping about the room in the darkness. "Jeff?" He whispered, barely audible to his own ears. Then, remembering the lamp device Jeff had constructed, Jerry sat up and lifted his arm to feel about in the air until his fingertips found the twine.

Wrapping the twine about his fingers Jerry gave a quick tug, but the lamp did not flick on. He hadn't even heard the soft ratchet of the pull chain. Drawing the line taut, Jerry was about to give a sharper tug when, in sudden horror, he realized that something was pulling back strongly on the twine. Before he could unwrap the twine from his fingers Jerry found his arm stretched out straight, toward the lamp. The pull on the twine was steady and rhythmic as if someone - or something - were slowly wrapping the twine into a ball, while keeping the twine stretched taut across the room. Jerry opened his mouth to cry out but could only squeak out a high-pitched croak, "Jeff?" When he tried to swallow and call out again, his mouth had grown so dry, and his fear, so great that only a dry raspy gasp exited his throat.

Then, from the darkness, fingers, as long and bony as his grandmother's, with skin as dry and textured as parchment, wrapped coldly around his wrist and suddenly jerked his hand hard against the twine. Jerry felt the twine snap and the frayed end fell against his palm as the cold fingers released their grip. Jerry drew in a ragged breath, stealthily tilting his head back, to cry out for help.

A voice, oddly accented with a reptilian rattle of r's and snake like sibilance of s's, as raspy as the gasp that had escaped his own throat, spoke to him from the dark. "Don't s'sc'dream! Be s'silent, Jer'rgy, or'r your'r life will be r'ruined."

Jerry, suddenly aware that his eyes ached, realized he was staring, wide-eyed into the dark, and sitting upright, frozen in fear. He'd forgotten his palm was still stretched forth in the dark until something cold, metallic, and smooth was pressed into his palm. By touch, Jerry recognized the die-cast metal model of the stealth bomber from atop his brother's desk.

Form the dark, less than a foot from his face, the voice warned, "S'sc'dream, and when da lights's get flipped on I will be gone'd and your'r br'rudder'r will believe it is's you det been cr'reeping about in da dar'rk!" The model was jerked roughly from Jerry's hand and replaced with a smooth piece of bent and flattened wire and what felt like stiff slips of paper. "S'sc'dream," the voice rasped, "and your'r fadder'r will dis'scover'r det you s'stolen'd his's gold-plated money clip r'right off his's dr'res'ser in da night!"

The money-clip was replaced by the smooth handle and stiff bristles of his mother's hairbrush, as the voice continued to rasp out threats, "S'sc'dream, Jer'rgy, and will br'reak your'r mudder'r's hear'rt to dis'scover'r you s'stood r'right by her'r beds'side in da dar'rk, wid deeze gr'ras'sped in your'r hands's!" The brush was joined by the cold steel of the scissors from his desk, the points pressing against Jerry's palm. The voice hissed a final warning, "If you s'sc'dream, Jer'rgy, family will come and find ps'sychopath clutching s'scis'sor'r s'stabbed into his's bleeding hand and s'sur'rounded by his's loot, pilfer'red in da dar'rk of night!"

Jerry, his hand still outstretched, felt his whole body begin to shake uncontrollably as he felt the scissors slide slowly across and off of his palm. The reptilian hiss sounded a little bit farther away as it hissed, "S'so, you have choice now; lie r'right back down, leave me alone, and I put dis's s'stuff back befor'rd dawn... or s'sc'dream and end up locked away in s'some dis'smal as'sylum for da ins'sane. Go ahead now, choos'se." With tears welling in his eyes and hands trembling uncontrollably, Jerry lay back and slowly pulled the covers over his head. With a wheezing chuckle the voice rasped, "Good, good, I am glad dat we have'd an under'rs'standing."

Jerry heard the entity skuttle across the room and slide the closet door open. He heard the jangle of clothes hangers and the thud of his tennis shoes being tossed out of the way as the creature moved into the corner. "Oh, Jer'rgy, couple mor're tings's," the voice rasped, "no mor'd night-light; I getting tir'red of waiting for'r you to fall'd to s'sleep s'so I can tur'rn det off. And, s'stop asking your'r mudder'r for cat, I taking car're of da mice ar'round her're jus'st fine. Da moths's and da flies's, too. Although, I like s'spider'r or two as's des'ser'rt. You s'stop s'smas'shing dem! When you find s'spider'rs's, put in jar'r under'r bed s'so dey s'stay fr'res'sh." Jerry heard the creature sigh contentedly as it settled into the closet corner. Then just before sliding the door shut the voice rasped out one last order, "And, Jer'rgy, don't pull s'stunt wid lamp cor'rd again'd. You r'really don't ever'r, ever'r, want to s'see me; is's enough to know det I am always's her're."

End
What?
You don't have a lock on your closet door?



Originally published fnasr May, 2012 in Literary Lunes