Another fiction effort.  Again, based on a tiny ghosts.  I haven’t decided, but I may try to do one on EVERY tiny ghost.  So far, I’ve just picked up a few- again this is basically a writing exercise, it’s pretty raw. The tiny ghost in question is here.

When she stepped into her room, her bed shifted.  Just a little.  She stepped to one side, observing, and then the other.  She knelt down.  “Hello?” she called under the bed.  Even though she peered, the darkness under her bed was complete.  She could catch nothing but a sense of moving black.

“Hello,” a voice answered.  It was pleasant voice, much to her surprise.

She smiled- there was a front tooth missing.  “My name is Jill.  What’s yours?”

“I don’t- Bob,” he said.

“Are you a monster?”

He chuckled.  “I guess so.”

“But you’re nice.  Are there nice monsters?”

“There must be,” he said.  “Since you said I was nice, but I know I’m a monster.”

“Are you going to scare me at night?  I don’t like being scared.”  She had a solemn look on her face.

“No, I’ll be here making sure nothing happens at night.”

“Okay!”  She jumped up onto the bed, and pulled the covers up to her chin.  “Goodnight Bob!”

He chuckled.  “Goodnight Jill.”


The next evening when she came into bed, she was moving slowly.  She climbed into bed and turned out the light without saying anything.  He waited for her to say something- she wasn’t sleeping.  Finally she took a deep breath.  “Are you really here to protect me?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said.

“But you can’t leave my room?”

“I must stay under your bed.  It’s one of the rules.”

She shifted, the bed creaking.  “Why?”

“Why can’t I leave?  Well, I come from a place that’s not Earth.  I can only exist in dark places, and once I establish a place I’m stuck.”  It was a good deal more complicated than that, actually, but it was simpler to explain it this way.

“Why ME?” she asked.

“Oh, well that’s simple.  My mother lived under your mother’s bed when she was little.  Mother said you could probably use a friend right now.”

“Mommy says friends are important.”

“Of course they are.  You have to have people you can trust.”

“But sometimes the people you trust do bad things.”

“That’s true,” he said. “Some people aren’t worthy of trust.  And some people are worthy of trust, but they make mistakes.”

“The second type- they aren’t bad people?”

He considered.  “No, they aren’t bad.  Everyone makes mistakes.  But it’s hard to tell the difference between people who are genuinely good and just messed up, and the people who are bad.”

“I know.”  She didn’t say anything for a long time.

“Is there something bothering you, Jill?”

She sniffed deeply.  “No.”

She was clearly lying.  He didn’t want to call her on it, though.  “Well if there is, you can tell me, okay?  I’ll always believe you.”


“If you’d like, I can tell you a story.”

She shifted again, pulling the covers up.


“Well, it starts with this princess.  And she’s an honest and brave little girl, but she gets caught by an evil magician.  He’ll only let her go if she agrees to marry his son, who’s a mean little cuss…”

When she fell asleep the monster stayed awake all night, worrying.


The following night the little girl was accompanied by her father.  “I hope you learned your lesson about telling wild stories.”

“Yes Daddy.”

He sat on the bed.  “Come sit in Daddy’s lap.”


“Come here.”  His voice was sharper.

She trudged across the floor.  When the man started taking the clothing off the little girl- whose eyes had gone dead- the monster acted.

He moved the bed.


“There’s a monster under my bed,” she said.

“There’s-” he sighed.  “There’s nothing under your bed.”


“That’s something.”

He bent down and peered under the bed, and the monster grabbed him and dragged him away.

She was sitting on the bed when she felt the bed shift again.  “Bob?”

“Are you alone?”

“Mommy lives with another man named Steve.”

“Is Steve nice?”

She nodded.

“That’s good.  Your Daddy was NOT nice.  He wasn’t a nice man making a mistake, he was a bad man.  Okay?”

She nodded again.

“Here’s what you need to do,” he said.  “You need to call Mommy and tell her Daddy went out to the store and hasn’t come back yet.”

“What did he go to get?”

“You don’t know.  Can you do that?”


“You can’t tell them what really happened.”

She didn’t say anything for a long minute, and her thumb crept into her mouth.  “I don’t know what happened.”

Children were unique in the way they blocked things out, he thought.

“Daddy went to the store.”

“That’s right.  And it’s been hours and you’re scared.”

“Are you bad?” she asked.  One, final question.

“Only to bad men,” he said.  “When you leave, I can’t follow.”

She nodded.  “I don’t want you to.”

It was heart-breaking, and it was right.  She didn’t need to remember for the rest of her life.