Keep Covered

As long as Anna stayed under the blankets, she was safe... until tonight.

Anna yanked the covers up to her chin, making sure all her limbs hid beneath the comforter. The thing, whatever it was, left her alone if she stayed under the blankets. On more than one occasion, she’d woken up to a loose foot being tugged on or something holding an exposed hand. As long as she stayed covered, she didn’t wake up to its antics.

Her brown eyes strained into the darkness outside of her Minnie Mouse night light, looking for any sign of movement. Sometimes, it didn’t show up, but more often than not, it came for a visit. In the corner of her room, over by her dollhouse, the shadows seemed to gather themselves into a growing shape of solid, inky blackness.

She wiggled further under the covers until they were just under her nose. They smelled like her mother’s detergent, making her feel a little safer.

Not that her mother could stop the thing. Anna told her mom about it, but she didn’t believe her. She even screamed for help on a couple of occasions, but it would step out of sight until her mother left and then mess with her twice as bad.

The looming shadow, a humanoid blob, began to glide around her room, caressing her belongings. Anna’s eyes practically bugged out of her head, why didn’t it just leave her alone?

It stopped at her desk. It reached into her pencil cup and pulled out her favorite pencil, a Lisa Frank rainbow blend of sparkly polka dots, and held it up for investigation.

‘No, no, no!’ Anna cried out in her mind.

The thing snapped her pencil clean in half and dropped the pieces on the carpet. She gave an involuntary squeak at the demise of her favorite pencil. The featureless silhouette turned in her direction. Praying it would go away, she scrunched her head under the blankets.

Breathing, quiet and raspy, moved beside the bed. A scream built up in her throat. Something put pressure on the blankets above her leg. Why was it touching her? It never touched her if her limbs were under the blankets. She wrenched her legs up against her. A low, dark chuckle crawled over her.

Fear welled up inside of her. It was always only a suggestion of her fears. It never toyed with her so directly. The breathing shited closer until it loomed over her head. Something jerked the covers, almost dragging them out of her hands. She squeezed the blankets over her head, it couldn’t have them. Another sharp yank.

This time she shrieked.

The blankets jerked and twisted. Her fingers tightened until they hurt. The whole time, she howled for her mother. She didn’t want to see the thing, didn’t want to look into its empty face. Didn’t want to know what it planned on doing.

Her door flew open, and her mother cried out, “What’s wrong, Anna?”

The moment the door opened and light flooded into the room, her blankets fell still. When she poked her head out, a foul odor washed over her. It reeked of rotten eggs.

Her mother also noticed the fragrance. “Phew, what’s that horrible smell?” She gagged and covered her nose with her arm.

“Mom, can I sleep with you, please?” Tears welled up in her eyes, Anna couldn’t shake the distinct feeling it almost got her.

Her mother dry-heaved again “Not if that smell’s coming from you.”

With a sharp shake of her head, Anna leaped out of bed. It was most definitely not her, and the thing never bothered her when her mother was around. They fled her room into the fresh air of the hallway. Her mother shut the door to lock the noxious funk in there. When it clicked shut, Anna breathed a sigh of relief. It was shut up in her room.

Once snuggled in her mother’s bed, she sunk into slumber. It had been so long since she slept well and didn’t fear waking up to the nightmare touching her.

When they got up in the morning, her room still reeked of the strange odor.. Her mother grumbled and cursed before she broke down and called the landlord. Anna stood in the doorway, focused on her broken pencil and reliving the night before. Somehow, she understood the stench meant the thing was growing stronger.

The volume of her mother’s voice rose and snagged her attention. “What do you mean?. . . You’re going to move us? We don’t want to move, I just want the smell to be taken care of. . . . I don’t understand, what do you mean by ‘bad things’?”

Her mother dropped into silence. Anna rose on her tiptoes as if that might make her able to hear what the landlord was telling her mother. It didn’t.

In a deadly, calm voice, her mother said, “So, you’re telling me, people have died here and you didn’t bother telling us before we moved in?”

More silence before she demanded, “I think six months free would be more reasonable since that’s outrageous and we now have to move. This is a full disclosure state. You’re supposed to tell us if someone’s died in our residence BEFORE we move in.” Her mother was quiet for a little bit more before giving a resounding farewell.

“Well, that was productive,” her mother said, “We’re going to be moving out of this place tonight, thanks to your room.”

“Why?” Anna asked, but she knew why. It was a silly question

“I don’t know if I should tell you,” she said, but the look Anna gave her made her break down. “We’re not the only occupants to smell that stuff. Apparently, others have complained about it here, before bad things would happen.”

“It’s the thing,” Anna said.

“The thing? What thing?”

Anna studied her mom. In a matter-of-fact voice, told said, “The thing. It comes in my room every night. Last night, I know it was going to hurt me. That’s why I screamed.”

“Anna,” her mother said.

Frustrated, she shook her head. “I’ve told you about it, but you never believe me. You think I’m just being silly and afraid of the dark. I’m not afraid of the dark, I’m afraid of it.”

Trying to keep the tears from falling, she pointed a finger at her favorite pencil, “It broke my pencil last night. It did it on purpose. Mom, how did it know it was my favorite pencil?”

Her mother walked in and picked up the two pieces of the pencil before she looked back at Anna.

Anna was used to disbelief written on her mother’s face, but not today. There was nothing but concern, and a little fear.

“You saw something break your pencil?” She asked.

Anna nodded.

Before they could continue the conversation, there was a sharp rap of knuckles on the front door. Her mother hurried to answer it and found the landlord, along with several strong maintenance men.

“We’ll help you pack if you’re comfortable with it,” he said.

“Seriously?”

The landlord, a short man with an unruly mop of white, curly hair, announced, “I don’t think I stressed over the phone how important it is that we get you out of here. Now.”

“Because people have died?”

Anna spoke up, “No, because the thing killed them bad. If we stay, it’ll kill us bad, too.”

“Anna!” Her mother’s voice was sharp, but the landlord gave her a knowing look.

Her mother didn’t argue anymore. They began to pack their belongings into the boxes the men carried. Surprisingly, it didn’t take very long for them to pack up everything.

Everything, except for her broken pencil. Anna left that as her note to the thing. She wanted it to know that it didn’t get to torture her anymore. They were the last occupants of the apartment.

Moving was the greatest relief Anna ever knew. Many years later, long after the apartment was almost forgotten, she still slept with the covers drawn to her chin and every limb tucked under the blanket. For though the thing did not follow her, part of her feared it might just find her again.