Goodnight

I grinned to myself, flexing my wings as I slinked close to the ground, chest pressed close against the ground. I breathed in the scent of dusty wood and mould, things familiar to those in my line of work. My claws moved silently over the planks, dragging my strong body forward.

The light was gone, that blasted bird had slinked back to terrorise the other side of the planet. For a few hours now, it was my world. My Rules. My Game.

I pressed my head against the underside of the bed, listening for the sounds that marked a child still awake. Sometimes I wondered why I still bothered doing this, but then the screams and fear reminded me. I listened more intently, nothing. But children are so very sneaky, humans in general can’t be trusted. Stupid and insolent at worse, stubborn and cunning at best. Not as cunning as me, but cunning enough.

The crickets chirped their melody, my melody. I gnashed my sharp teeth together, revelling in anticipation of the fear of my latest mark.

One dark hand clothed in leather-like skin reached out under the bed, the ivory claws finding purchase in the old wood, pulling their owner across the wood. I was invisible in the dark, as I was made to be. I should have been the greatest hunter of the shadows, but that accursed yellow bird just has to ruin everything doesn’t he?

I extracted the entirety of my body from underneath, rolling my muscular shoulders and taking a deep breathe of the air. It was too still, perfect for strange sounds echoing from attics and dark corridors.

My mark was directly at my side, his chest rising and falling in time with his breaths. My eyes had no trouble seeing him in the dark, scanning over his form. Young, perhaps seven or younger. Young enough to fear me still.

I walked past his bed post and let my hand fall upon it, allowing one white claw to drag across the wood and leave a long gouge in the softness of the wood. The child stirred. Reaching up, I knocked the back of my palm against a ceiling fan and allowing it to twirl, making alien creaking noises and groans of tired metal.

The boy began to toss and turn. The final nail must be hammered in. I reached over to his bed side lamp and let my finger rest upon the switch, before flicking it up. Closing my eyes, I reeled back as the light entered my realm. Not something I liked, but how else would the boy be able to fully feel terror if he couldn’t see me.

The child rose into a sitting position, still lethargic and sluggish from his sleep. He rubbed his eyes and looked uncomprehendingly at me, the huge figure with wings spread wide across the length of the room. He asked sleepily, “Who are you?”

What? He didn’t know me? Humans nowadays. I snarled, “I am what lives in your Nightmares, I am the embodiment of Fear, I am the Night!”

His eyes were still puzzled. “Em-bou-dee-ment?”

I furrowed my brows. Why wasn’t this human scared?

He asked, “Are you one of Santa’s elves?”

Santa? Elves? I looked out the window and realised the world outside was swathed in thick blankets of snow. I laid one hand against the glass and realised how cold it was. Was it Winter already?

“You’re one of his Elves aren’t you? I have cookies for you if you want.”

I let my head rest on my neck as I remembered my first Winter, in the time before the Sun, when my kind ran rampant and wild, masters of the world so dark. Then the Bird, the horrible yellow bird, he rose in the East like a bolt of flames, melting the snow and thawing the ice. Burning our flesh and charring our bones, that accursed-

“Do you want cookies?”

I looked down at the boy. He had shaken off his sleep and seemed to be convinced that I was one of ‘Santa’s Elves’. I spluttered, “Cookies? Don’t you fear the Dark, boy?”

He cocked his head. “Ma said I shouldn’t eat candy after dark, but I did. She said I’ll get strange dreams. Are you one of them?”

What use was I if I couldn’t scare humans? Even these tiny men-lings. I sank into the nearest chair, a rocking one made of expertly weaved wood. I let my face fall into my palm, wondering what had become of the Hunter in the Dark.

I felt something soft on my hand, something unnatural to me. I looked up and saw the boy there. He looked me in my eyes and said, “I don’t think you’re a dream. You’re real. I know.”

“And how would you know that?” I asked half-heartedly. This boy was obviously beyond fear of me now.

“You’re real. I can tell.”

Not much of a compliment, but more than I’d ever gotten since the dark ended. I nearly smiled. “Maybe I’m just another nightmare.”

“You’re not,” he stated resolutely. “Nightmares are bad. And you aren’t bad.”

“How would you know?” Fangs, wings, claws and skin like leather. What good would others see in that?

“Because you are nice.” He smiled at me with a grin missing three teeth, and said proudly, “I can tell.”

Who was this boy that didn’t fear every child’s nightmare? Who didn’t fear the one who terrorised the night and slinked after the Bird in the Sky? I got up, uncomfortable in this human’s presence. I’d never stayed so long with another who didn’t fear me. “I must leave.”

I grabbed the window and flung it open, hopping out the window and landing in the snow, the white stuff burying me up to my knees. I spread my wings and took off, but not before hearing the boy shout after me, “Goodnight!”