Little Monkey

Little Monkey

It wasn't dark. It wasn't cold. It wasn't foreign, and she wasn't lost. It was a warm summer's day. She was sitting in her bedroom, the only one she had ever slept in.

And she was terrified.

"Two little monkeys jumping on the bed..."

The voice seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere. She couldn't pinpoint its source; she didn't know whose it was; she couldn't even tell its gender. All she knew was that the voice was getting louder, closer, its lilting cadence screaming sinister innocence.

"One fell off and bumped his head..."

She sat trembling on her bed, her own voice stolen away by fear, fear that tasted of bitter bile and salty tears. She knew she should move, call for help, do something, but the fear was crippling, suffocating, all-consuming. It froze her in place, made her too numb to even cry, and as the voice drew ever nearer, all she could do was sit and wait.

"Momma called the doctor, and the doctor said..."

The voice sounded from right behind her, and she leap up, jerking around reflexively to face the singer. He was smiling, watching her intently. Languorously, he climbed over her bed and went to stand next to her.

She didn't know him.

"'No more monkeys jumping on the bed.'"

He ran a finger over the top of her dresser as if searching for dust. Apparently satisfied, he looked directly into her eyes and grinned.

His eyes were blue.

"One little monkey jumping on the bed..."

He reached out to gently stroke her cheek. She shuddered at the touch, but just as she shied away, he lunged, capturing her throat with his manicured hands.

She struck out blindly, tried to scream, panic and instinct finally kicking in, but it was no use; he expertly pinned her arms to her side with one arm, and no air could escape the hold on her throat. He held her tightly against him, rendering her kicks useless, and once her struggles had weakened and ceased, he loosed the grip on her throat and lovingly twined his fingers in her hair.

She felt his hot breath against her ear as he rested his chin on her shoulder and softly crooned:

"One fell off and bumped her head."

And then the fingers were digging into her scalp as he slammed her head against the edge of the dresser over and over and over again.

She was barely aware of it.

As the world fully faded away to black, she hear him gleefully sing:

"Momma called the doctor, and the doctor said,

"All the little monkeys? Dead."

It was a warm summer[s]'s[/s] day

unnecessary.

She was sitting in her bedroom,[s] the only one she had ever slept in.[/s]

I see no reason for the struck out line. Without it, it is implied in bedroom - as we have no reason to assume otherwise.

The voice sounded from right behind her, and she leap up,

leaped. [or leapt, depending]

He was smiling, watching her intently.

Who? Describe him. You spend time building a sense of mystery as to the owner of the voice and then do nothing to alleviate it. Whenever you set up a hook, always make sure to reveal the catch - leave the reader satisfied.

he expertly pinned her arms to her side with one arm

Really? Do you have any idea how difficult that is? How big is this guy? Why is he able to do that with such ease?

as the world fully faded away to black, she hear him gleefully sing

heard

---

Nice little scene, mostly well executed but without enough description and crucially, without enough story. Who is this girl and why should we care that she's in this situation? Why doesn't she do anything to stop it? Fear alone is not enough, usually its what spurs us on in extreme moments. Does she live alone? With family? Why is there no sense of help or options or history? Who is the guy and why is he doing this?

Okay, so you don't need to tell us everything, obviously that can kill the aura of mystery but it's a sign of how little you did tell us; at least some of those questions need to be answered. It just doesn't feel complete as it is. But I did enjoy it; make more of this, turn it from a scene into a story.

Hope that helped,
Cheers

I disagree.

I like the anonymous person being ... well... anonymous.

This is a short piece, but I like it a lot none the less.

Drawing it out, though, might have been a good idea. Suspense and all that.

Sorry I can't offer more critique. I just came here because I saw the preview for the story and I was curious.

Scary. ._____.

Fixed the typos. *feels silly for missing them after having proofread thrice*

I see no reason for the struck out line. Without it, it is implied in bedroom - as we have no reason to assume otherwise.

Scary things happening in places you know well or feel safest in make those events all the scarier, which is why that line is there. I guess I should have elaborated on it a bit.

Really? Do you have any idea how difficult that is? How big is this guy? Why is he able to do that with such ease?

Yeah, I do. The guy is a decently-sized adult man while the girl is just a child, and a pretty small one, at that. I probably should have mentioned that somewhere... XP

Why doesn't she do anything to stop it? Fear alone is not enough, usually its what spurs us on in extreme moments.

I disagree. When you're truly terrified, you really can't move or think clearly. I say this because I have felt absolute terror before, the type that literally makes hearts stop beating. (Though I can't remember the stupid nightmare that caused it. >_<)

I do plan on expanding it, and I'll be sure to add more description the next time around. I tend to forget description. >.>

I like the anonymous person being ... well... anonymous.

I do too. XD

Drawing it out, though, might have been a good idea. Suspense and all that.

Will keep that in mind.

Thank you both for the reviews. They were very helpful.

I like the start - it catches the eye. Kinda makes you think "Well, what IS wrong, then?" But, yeah, the "the only one she had ever slept in." could be cut out as Jiggity said. Slows it down a little with information we don't really need at this point in time.

I like the idea of the voice coming from nowhere and everywhere at the same time, quite creepy. And the fact he is singing a childrens' rhyme makes it freakier 'cause you know how terrible childrens' rhymes are. So a very good idea.

One thing: "his manicured hands." Manicured? Maybe a different word describing how well kept his hands are, kinda makes me feel he sits around with a nail file in his free time or something.

But this was really quite good! It caught my eye, which is what prologues are for - if it's a prologue. Are you planning on writing a story with it? It's quite a good idea.

Good Luck,

~ EmmaJane ~