The Monster

This was pretty fun to write...it took three days but I'm semi-satisfied. Just a five-year-old girl who imagines a monster under her bed and becomes slightly obsessed

Not a single sheep could help me return to sleep. A small, cotton-like animal has no ability to drown out the sound of the impossibly loud sleet that pounded on my window like a thousand rocks skipping down pavement. Nor could counting gigantic cotton balls ease the sense of dread that flooded into my system as I looked around my room. They couldn’t possibly soften the eerie, ghostly aura that my night light cast over my play things. Said animals could not erase the long shadows that stretched over my walls like putty between two hands. Most importantly, however, not even the largest pack of sheep could possibly scare off the terrible thing that resided under my bed; the horrible thing that was grumbling with irritation causing the bed skirt to flutter. No one believed me despite my frantic pleas for help. They dismissed me as soon as I even began to utter the words. The only way I could express my fear to prevent it from eating a hole inside me was through paper.

The monster completely invaded my journal, sprawled over every page with every ugly crayon I could find. The creature was depicted in every possible form I could think of and scribbled on the pages with a fierceness that alarmed me and with a realness that frightened me even more. As I stared at the drawings the monster became less like a figment of my imagination that I was so often assured, but living, breathing creature that communicated to me through a harsh sibilance that filled my room with thick, warm air.

Soon I was even afraid to walk across my room. I created elaborate rituals to scare off the monster. Such ideas pervaded my mind whenever I wasn’t ripping through the pages of my notebook with a jumbo sienna crayon. I elaborated and schemed ever more carefully the next day so as not to disturb the monster. I soon discovered that the monster hated blue so I would array myself in the bright color and flung blue items to the floor to scare the monster. He had retreated, I was victorious.

I wasn’t now. I had forgotten all about the monster’s aversion to the color. I had wrapped myself in victory like a warm quilt. The monster was angry, the monster wanted revenge for chasing him into the depths of where he originally came from with flamboyant hue.

I fumbled about my bed in fright and looked for blue any sort of blue. Anything that I could possibly use to fight the wrath of the monster that I was sure was tensing under my bed - ready to strike and to pull me into the it’s dark abyss for my haughtiness, for flashing his weakness in front of him.

I spotted something my blue dress-up wand called from my desk like a lighthouse’s beacon.

Can I possibly make it across? Was it worth it?

I weighed the benefits as the hail continued to attack the roof. I had to, I decided. It wasn’t far away, only a foot at least. I scurried to the edge of my bed and reached my arm out to the fullest extent. I grasped it but as soon as my fingers wrapped around the thin wand I lost my balance and fell to the floor without grace.

I held my breath listening for any signs that the monster had been disturbed and that it was coiled to attack. Seconds ticked by but nothing happened. The monster simply continued to emit his steady, flat hisses. I held the wand tighter in my hand then shoved it as far as I could under my bed and waved my arm wildly. The string of hisses abated. I recoiled slightly and prayed that noise wouldn’t resume.

It didn’t. I heard nothing but the pounding of the hail against my window and foot steps against the creaking floorboards.

“Emma?” my mom whispered from the doorway as she peered in my bed as she searched for me in the dim light.

“Emma?” she repeated in a louder tone. I turned to her dropping the wand as I stood up.

“Why are you on the floor? What’s wrong?” she asked.

“The monster…” I replied with hesitation.

“How many times do I have to tell you there’s no such thing as monsters?” she said firmly as she picked me up and put me back in the bed.

“It’s just the hail. There’s no such thing as monsters.” She tucked me in tightly and kissed me on the head.
“I love you...get some sleep.”

Just like the sheep, my mother had failed me.

EDIT: Okay, I'm changing the grammatical errors pointed out, but I won't be able to change other things (imagery, flash back, added information, etc.) into the story until I do a complete over-haul in a few weeks. Thanks for all the comments!

Awww. This is so sad, and cute all at once.

My biggest critique would be about the child's voice. While the style is great, this really doesn't sound like a child talking. If it was your intent to show the complex inner workings of a child's mind, then good on you. But at first read, it didn't strike me as a child for the narrator.

Another thing is the journal. This kid is about five, yes? I have a little sister who is five and she doesn't have a journal. Perhaps it would be better if it were just the drawings that they made, rather than something so sophisticated as a journal. It could be that their room is wallpapered with their drawings because their mother thinks it is cute and thus that adds to their torment.

In any case, I really liked this piece. It reminded me a little of me as a little kid, fearing the hand that would reach out from under the bed and drag me down if I were to sleep on the bottom bunk. Scary stuff that. Very nice mood setting and language.

*thumbs up*

Great job.

~GryphonFledgling

My biggest critique would be about the child's voice. While the style is great, this really doesn't sound like a child talking.

I'd agree with Mr. Fledgling here, this was the one real sticking point for me. I did have a journal when I was five, but I called it a diary. And yes, it was mostly pictures (of horses for me, not monsters). Overall, an enjoyable read, darling!

“I love you…keep some sleep.”

You meant "get some sleep", right?


And Fledgling was right. This is too mature, and advanced a vocabulary, for a five-year-old. Maybe you should try upping the age, or going back and putting more simple words and phrases in place of the others.

Points for creativity. I don't remember anyone ever doing this type of story idea. So good job on that count.

Keep writing.

I enjoyed this alot myself. And at first I agreed with the others, because of how sophisticated the language was, but then I came to like it the way it was.

The journal thing, I admit, is a bit of a sketchy idea. I only knew the alphabet when I was that age, and only in capital letters. So I think you might want to make it a bit more age appropriate.

Other than that, I thought it was well written and interesting to read. Kudos.

WOW! Good writer you! Spare me of your wonderfulness! (it was really well written) and I like how sophisticated the child sounds, that isn't a problem at all for me.

"The dismissed me as soon as I even began to utter the words. The only way I could express my fear to prevent it from eating a hole inside me was through paper."

I believe THE should be THEY

And then that "Keep some sleep" thing mentioned before...and that is all!

WOW. You're really, really good. *envy radiates*

I really liked it! I do agree with some of the comments already about the childs voice. Children the age of five don't know some of the words you used or can tell how much a foot is just by looking but otherwise I really like it! I wonder if there's a monster under my bed...

This was so...so...gah! I can't find the word I'm looking for. This was really good! I think you could have made the child sound younger, but it was still great! I should start doing stuff like this, making short stories.

Whenever I slept over at my friend's house, we had just watched The Ring for the first time. And we had wouldn't get back into her bed untill we finally agreed on climbing around the bottom part. When we watched The Ring 2, we would go near the TV until we couldn't stand it and she rushed to the TV, pressed play, and then ran back to the bed to watch. Ah, good times...good times...

*giggles* Your avatar is far more amusing than it should be.

Not a single sheep could help me return to sleep.

The rhyming there bugs me a bit. I'd find another way to word it.

Same thing for the first part of the following sentence...

Most importantly, however, not even the largest pack of sheep could possibly scare off the terrible thing that resided under my bed

The bolded section would make more sense if you put hyphens around it.

No one believed me though despite my frantic pleads for help.

"Though despite" is redundant. Pick one and stick with it.

The monster completely invaded my journal; sprawled over every page with every ugly crayon I could find.

Improper use of semicolon. Make it a comma.

I soon discovered that the monster hated blue so I would arrayed myself in the bright color and flung blue items to the floor to scare the monster.

"I would arrayed" is a contradiction of tenses. Change it to "array."

Seconds ticked by but nothing happened, the monster simply continued to emit it’s steady, flat hisses.

This could be broken up into two sentences, right after "happened." Also, "emit it is steady, flat hisses?" It's not possessive, therefore does not need an apostrophe.

that the monster had been disturbed that it was coiled to attack me.

"and" after "disturbed," and the "me" at the end is unnecessary.

Just like the sheep my mother had failed me.

Comma after "sheep."

This is... interesting. Personally, I feel like you could have done a bit more with the ending. Sure, it's a good ending and it's got lots of stuff behind it. But at the same time it's kinda... blah, boring, etc. It needs to pack more of a wallop. I want to feel like your ending punched me in the stomach.

Other than that, this was good! Lovely imagery, and nice word choice. Very tasty. I enjoyed it. ^_^

Overall, a cute, fun little story. Good job.

-Saint Razorblade
The Official YWS Pirate

This is a nice little story and I think I'll start with the child's voice. It is too sophisticated for a five year old but you could get over that quite easily - turn this into a flash-back. Maybe start from the point where an older version of Emma is looking through boxes of old toys and things. Maybe she finds the journal and the picture of the monster reminds her of her fear. And then you could have her remember the events of that night.

Because a less sophisticated voice would be dull. A voice that lacked vocabulary and description would make it look like this story was written by a five year old and you don't want to give that impression, do you?

Also, I think more description would help and characterization. At the moment, only the child's fear is shown but who is she underneath that? Describe the room - what toys does she play with by day? What does the wall-paper look like, does she sleep with a lamp on, with the door open?

A few small suggestions -

No one believed me though despite my frantic [s]pleads[/s] plees for help. The dismissed me as soon as I even began to utter the words.

As I stared at the drawings the monster became less like a figment of my imagination that I was so often assured, but a living, breathing creature that communicated to me through a harsh sibilance that filled my room with thick, warm air.

I elaborated and schemed ever more carefully the next day so as not to disturb the monster. I soon discovered that the monster hated blue so I [s]would[/s] arrayed myself in the bright [Maybe describe the different shades? It isn't always bright... and maybe go further than this present situation. Maybe mention how she tried to convince her parents to paint the walls blue?] color and flung blue items to the floor to scare the monster.

I had wrapped myself [s]into[/s] in victory [s]like[/s] - a warm quilt. [Maybe add a little more here, extend the imagery. Say how the quilt blinded her to the danger.]

Anything that I could possibly use to fight the wrath of the monster that I was sure was tensing under my bed - ready to strike and to pull me into the [s]it’s[/s] dark abyss for my haughtiness, for flashing his weakness in front of him.

I spotted something - my blue dress-up wand called from my desk like a lighthouse’s beacon.

I weighed the benefits as the hail continued it’s attack on the roof. [Might be smoother as '...continued to attack the roof.' and it would add to the personification. Maybe mention how the weather is on the monster's side.]

Seconds ticked by but nothing happened, the monster simply continued to emit [s]it’s[/s] his [You've used his before and it's much more personal, it gives the monster a stronger form.] steady, flat hisses.

_____________________________

In general, it's a nice little story but I think you need more description and characterization. Does Emma try to speak to the monster perhaps? Hope this helps a little,

Heather xx

Hello! The numbers next to the highlighted correspond with the numbered comments.





Extra: I forgot to tell you that I think you should combine the mother's speech a bit. The paragraph spacing is just a bit odd...

~JFW1415

Hey Peri! This is completely wonderful:) It's so cute. At first I was going to say that the voice was too mature for a five-year-old (and what do I find? seems some people have stolen my thunder), but I love your voice in this at the same time and there's really so little that needs to be changed otherwise that I don't want the voice to be changed:( Maybe it would work to change it to a flashback like kitty suggested, but somehow I'm not sure how I feel about that idea. If you do that, I think make it very subtle. Just let them know that this is an older her speaking, but try not to bring in the present at all.

And then there's the journal. I don't know any five-year-olds who have the attention span or the writing skills (actually forming the words on paper, not thinking of the words to write down) for something like that. Of course, that's what I was doing at five... but that's beside the point:) I kept reading and it did seem as though maybe it was just pictures, but if it is, you need to make that more clear. Just pictures. Don't use the word journal.

Periwinkle wrote: As I stared at the drawings the monster became less like a figment of my imagination that I was so often assured,

That doesn’t make sense. Maybe "Less like the figment of my imagination that I was so often assured it was"

The conclusion... didn't really seem like a conclusion. Maybe find a way for her to either overcome her fear of the monstor, or for her to come to terms with it in some way (it being the monstor). In this children's book about a child's monstor and in the end the child decides to take face the monster and "get rid of it once and for all" but when he shoots it the monster starts to cry, so at the very end the child tucks the monster in bed with him. Try something more conclusive like that. The way you talk about her mother failing her in the very last sentence almost makes it seem as though that's suppose to be the point of this, which it isn't.

All that said, I really really like this this! You really captured the inner workings of a childs mind. I really hope that you can find a way to not change the voice in this, because I really love it, and really besides the journal and the end I wouldn't change a word of this, honestly!

Keep writing!


*adna*

Your story was almost poetic in a way and I really liked how detailed it was. The only thing is that I had to read some parts of your story a few times because it didn't seem to make sense.
Like the sentence that follows:
"I spotted something my blue dress-up wand called from my desk like a lighthouse’s beacon."
It was a great piece though.

Thanks for the great story,

Trick

I was never scared of mosters.
I was scared of something though.
I was pretty sure if my PJs weren't thick enough, Edward Scissorhands would cut me up in the middle of the night.


I really liked this.. very cute.. slightly sad.. all around good story.
Sweet.

I Do like it and the story is short and sweet.

But simply it's the fact that you keep mentioning the sheep in anyway...you sound a bit tired then, Almost alseep. Then you drank a huge drink and began to write the rest of this ironic story.

It really doe's make me think of when I use to believe that something was lurking in my room that made it so scary to even imagine. I often left the lights on and mostly kept my bladder in.
And then my sister moved into my room and the old monster went away...a new monster emerged.

It's a simply good in a sweet, childlike way. I don't worry about the spacing or the grammer, it's just the sheep in the first sentence...it's kind of creeping me out.

4/5