Short Story: Hide in Fear (Well, it could be worse...)

Here's a short story I had written around August, and it wasn't very good so I sent it through the huge intimidating Editing Shredder Machine and got something slightly better out of the metal blades of revision.

Er... it's not quite horror, but it isn't really normal either.

It may not be the best, but hey! It's better than silence!

Hide in Fear

I've stayed upstairs for about an hour, but that's nothing compared to the weeks that have gone by where I haven't even left the house. I know the longer I stay here, the harder it is to leave, or so it seems.

There's a rumble from beneath my feet, it shakes the lamp and the computer and the pictures on the walls. There's an earthquake down there, I know, there's a monster that only wants company...

What's the name of a monster in between a small furry animal that only wants to snuggle, and a ferocious beast that will rip your head off if you do anything it doesn't like? Well, whatever it is, it's in my basement and it wants me to come down there.

And I do. Willingly. Why the heck do I let it control me?

Yet I walk down the concrete steps and into the cool of the basement, to confront...

My safety. 

My worst enemy. 

My guardian.

If I'm protected in the basement by a monster with more sharp teeth than I can count, then I cannot be hurt. 

I walk, quickly and silently, to the rising and falling mass of fur. It has a giant, hard hide on its back, like an armadillo, and it turns, reaches its paws reach toward me and brings me into a warm and comforting hug. I know I am safe. I do not think of anything, only how soft its fur is and how warm its body is and when I lay my head on its chest I can hear its heartbeat. I lay there, with my monster, for minutes. It's so big, and so strong, and I know that if I want to pull away it will overpower me. And yet--

The phone rings, upstairs.

In a flash my monster is up and baring its teeth and snarling. It pushes me gently to the side where it steps in front of me and growls and barks. Its teeth glisten and snap. The telephone, upstairs, obviously does not hear and keeps ringing. The monster is enraged. It's scared of the telephone, it's scared of the noise, it's scared of the change, and most of all it's scared of the people behind the telephone. My monster has scared away many people before, chased off people at the door and guarded me, protected me, safe down here. I know I am safe when it's only me with my monster.

Sometimes I lock the doors and no one comes. No one comes and I unplug the telephone and it doesn't ring and I stay in the basement with my monster. I am safe.

Sometimes I stay too long. I wonder what the world is like. I think of people in fancy clothes and interesting shops and I wonder what it would be like to be one of those people.

The telephone stops ringing and my monster goes back to the cold floor and curls up in a ball. It hesitates, waiting and listening, then reaches its head back and searches for me. I walk over and lie next to it, my hand resting on the strong, protective plates on its back.

And although it is nice down here and I love my monster, I remember those who would hate this. They'd hate being in a dark, damp basement, they'd hate my monster, they'd hate being alone, they'd hate being cut off.

And how can I help anyone if I'm alone?

I'm not even helping myself...

I get to my knees and stand, but the monster jumps and makes an excited purr. It gets to its low feet and looks up at me, willing me to stay and cuddle.

I can't.

I want to, but I can't anymore.

Once I dreamed of scaring people off. I dreamed of becoming my monster, that my appearance alone could scare off the world.

Now, I know, it won't work. It won't work the way I planned it, but in fact it may just do the opposite.

Which, now, is exactly what I want.

I jump over my monster and run up stairs, shutting the cellar door. It won't come up, I know, it's too scared and it lives in the basement.

Black. Anything black.

Makeup, buckles, boots.

Gloves. Metal. Anything.

In minutes I become someone else. Now I'm dressed in black, now I look like death, and now I have the power to passively attract attention. People will look at me, people will judge me, and I'll have nowhere to hide. But that's what I have to have.

Before I meet the monster outside of my house, I have to say goodbye to the monster in my basement.

I reach for the doorknob to the basement door, and my hand shakes. I hear it downstairs, its feet pounding the floor. It's right at the bottom of the stairs. I open the door and look down. At the foot of the stairs it looks up at me with tears and recognition in its eyes. It knows. It's angry, but it can't do anything. It's stuck down there in a fit of anger and fear, and I slowly and quietly close the door again. 

Outside, outside is where I must be. And I will walk among people and they will talk, and I will be afraid, but I will remember what lies in the dark.

 I will remember what it is to be afraid and I will run from fear.

Thanks for sticking with me!

Your sadistic friend, 

Layla