Monster

Jacob was sleeping in the room down the hall. His innocent appearance he took on as he slept was misleading.

Jacob was a very naughty child.

Just what Chrimson craved.

Chrimson hadn’t always been like this. Actually he had been much like Jacob. A rotten, wicked little boy.

Unfortunately, he was too wicked.

What happens to little children who are that horrible, you ask.

They are taken.

They are changed.

They become monsters. Horrible beings designed to scare others beyond imagination. To frighten children, taking revenge on those who are allowed of what the monsters are deprived.

Chrimson at first loved this. Along with a free pass to horrify others he also got the ability to change form into things even scarier than his mortal disguise.

He soon found out it was a curse.

It’s rare to find someone so rotten that they happily take on this new life.

More than often, the most popular obstacle comes up:

They were lonely. They wanted their families.

Behind each cruel mask is a child. A child just like the ones we were created to torment.

Jacob was one of these children.

He was exceptionally naughty. Just today he had stuck gum in his sister’s hair, put a red sock in with the whites, fed the family goldfish to the cat, and broken an antique vase his mother cherished, blaming it on his little brother.

Jacob was too naughty.

Chrimson wouldn’t take him for another night, though.

No, tonight he was going to have fun. Do what he does best.

He took the form of a shadow and slipped down the hallway, soundlessly.

When the door was before him, he slid under the crack in the bottom.

So easy.

Jacob wasn’t even slightly aware.

Chrimson changed into a black crow, landing softly beside him. The boy shifted slightly, but didn’t wake.

The monster pecked his back before sliding out of sight in his favored invisible self.

Jacob jumped, looking around wildly, eyes wide.

His fear fed Chrimson, drove him, made him want more.

Chrimson instantly read his deepest fear. Another ability he was given when he was taken into this new life.

He has a phobia of spiders. Very common.

Chrimson shifted into a giant Black Widow hovering over his quivering form. His arms and legs bending and lengthening, but he felt no pain. A slight tingling sensation he’d grown used to was the only feeling he experienced.

Jacob’s tawny eyes grew to the size of saucers. A strangled choking sound forced it’s way out of his lips. He gasped, going into a panic attack.

Panic attacks could be boring. The constant fear that came off the victim in waves was inviting, but simple. Chrimson liked things exciting.

He shrank until he was about the size of a textbook, still in his arachnid shape and crawled onto the boy’s chest, ignoring his flailing limbs.

That’s when he finally screamed.

It barely gagged out at first and then turned into a screech that would make any mortal flinch.

Chrimson on the other hand drank this in.

This is what he exists for.

This is how he lives.

Because Chrimson is a boogeyman and this is what boogeymen do.