a short story by John “Enter” Rozanski
Sophie was having the most fun that she'd ever had in her life. She moved her left arm to the left, and her sister followed suit. She jumped, and Gemma followed along, the two young girls’ hair flipping up and down. The hair flopped into Gemma’s eyes and tickled her nose. The two of them stared at each other for a good while. Sophie waited, but Gemma didn’t move. Sophie knew that she was so close to sneezing and thus losing the game, but nothing came.
“You’ve gotta do something or you’re gonna lose,” Gemma said.
Sophie did the only thing she could think of. She fell over backwards. Landing on the hardwood floor hurt, but not as much as seeing that Gemma followed along exactly.
“No fair! You were reading my mind! You knew what I was gonna do!”
“Well, you read my mind when it was your turn.”
Of course she would say that. Gemma simply didn’t appreciate the difference between when Sophie read minds, and when she did. Sophie only did it when there was absolutely no way she could tell what people were thinking. Gemma read minds whenever she wanted to learn someone’s secret.
Sophie was ready to get into a heated debate, but that—and their game—were cut short by their mother coming in.
“Just what are you two doing?” she asked.
“Playing mirror me,” Gemma said.
“Well, you two are up far past your bedtimes. You’ve got school tomorrow, and then piano lessons afterwards.”
“Can we please stay up late tonight?” Sophie asked. Bedtime was simply not an option.
“It’s already eleven PM, missy. I’m about to head for bed myself.”
“But I think there’s… a monster in my closet,” Sophie said.
Gemma gave Sophie that look. She got that look every time she tried to let her mother know about the monster under the bed. When she tried to tell her father about the creature that lived in the pool. When she tried to tell any adult what brussels sprouts really looked like. The look that their mother gave Sophie wasn’t much better.
“Sophie, you’re seven. You’re a bit too old to have mom and dad check the closet for you every night, you know.”
Sophie wasn’t going to have it. Not tonight. There was something in there. She knew it. Gemma knew it. Every kid in her class knew it. She had to make sure her mother knew it. She had to see those searing red eyes, the shadow that dripped from every opening.
“You have to check.”
“Fine. But you have to promise me you’ll go to bed right after.”
“As soon as the monster’s gone.”
Their mother rolled her eyes, but she allowed Sophie to take her hand. They marched down the hallways. Gemma shook her head as she followed along.
You know that she won’t be able to see anything, Gemma’s voice rang in the back of Sophie's head. You’re just gonna get us in trouble.
Do you want to end up like Stephen? Sophie shot back.
There was nothing that Gemma could say to that. Nobody wanted to end up like Stephen—nobody who remembered him, anyway. She, herself, even began to hope that by some miracle her mother would see the monster, despite how futile she knew that was going to be.
“I swear, you should try to be mature like your sister,” their mother said under her breath.
“We’re the same age,” Sophie said.
“Sometimes it doesn’t feel like that.”
That almost hurt Sophie, but she knew better. If being “mature” meant giving up, to stop trying, then that’s the last thing she ever wanted to be. Sophie wasn’t just going to accept that this was all futile. She didn’t know how—didn’t even care how—but she would convince her parents that these monsters were real.
Tonight was not that night. Their mother searched around the closet for a good couple of minutes—Sophie even took the risk of turning the lights off—but the only scary noise Sophie heard was her mother’s shout. This monster was smart. It wasn’t gonna come out when a parent was around.
It wouldn’t have mattered, anyway, Gemma was sure to remind her; grown-ups couldn’t see what the world really looked like. Even if they could, none of them would ever admit that they saw a suit of armor move at the museum, that their radio or television talked to them, or that they passed by a werewolf chained up in their neighbor’s yard. Sophie swore that she would never be like that, but both Gemma and Sophie knew that neither of them had a say in the matter.
One day, they would be like their mother—annoyed to find their children up so late, talking about a monster that definitely did not exist. They’d go and look in the closet or under the bed for the thousandth time, and they’d give it a good thorough look. But they wouldn’t find anything. They’d then ramble on about the same old bedtime story of “you’re too old to be acting this way,” before ending it with a “get to bed before you’re grounded.”
And so, Gemma and Sophie sat in their beds. They stared at the closet. Neither of them spoke. Neither of them even thought. They just waited. Waited for something. Dawn, falling asleep, anything. Their wait was ended by a rattle at the closet door. It was back, and the growl that followed proved it was hungry.
“Gemma, I don’t want to die,” Sophie blurted out.
“We’re not gonna die,” Gemma said. Sophie didn’t even have to read her mind to know she didn’t believe that. “Not without a fight, at least.”
They scurried about the house, looking for anything they could find as a weapon. The first thought was the axe in the wood shed. No, Sophie thought. If they went outside they might set off the security system, and then they’d really be in trouble. Then they thought about the knives. No, Gemma thought. Rummaging through the drawers might wake up their parents. Then they settled on some tools sitting by the fireplace. Gemma grabbed the poker, and Sophie grabbed the shovel. It wasn’t much, but it’d have to do on such short notice.
When this kind of stuff happened at school, Gemma and Sophie had other kids they could fall back on—teammates of a sort. Sophie’s best friend could control the weather with her mind. Of course, not every kid could do that kind of stuff—some kids had little more than a baseball bat and a prayer. Some kids like Stephen. And right now, Gemma and Sophie had even less than that.
They waited.
They didn’t wait long. The door began to shake. Sophie saw the red eyes glimmer through the closet keyhole. There was a pound at the door, and then it flew open. A long black tendril shot out and grabbed Gemma by the leg. She fell backwards. The shovel fell out of her hand. She tried to punch and scratch at the creature.
Every kid knew that there were only two ways that this could end, and Gemma was slowly being dragged toward one of them. For the first time, she saw the creature’s teeth. She would be seeing those every night in her dreams for years to come. Sophie stabbed the tendril with the fire poker, and it made a horrid noise. Black ooze stained the carpet, but it was certainly the better fate.
Sophie looked at her sister and gave her a smile—Gemma was safe. Sophie had only a moment to wonder why Gemma wasn’t returning the smile. When that moment was over, she found herself wrapped in another tendril. The fire poker was stuck to her arm, and she couldn’t squeeze it out of the creature’s grip.
Gemma ran up and tried to pull it back, strike it with the shovel, pull Sophie out. Sophie knew—she wasn’t going to get out of this one. And as the closet grew nearer, she knew that Gemma would share her fate. Sophie almost laughed. She was finally mature.
As her last action, she kicked Gemma as far away from the closet door as she could. They locked eyes one last time, and Sophie was gone.
Then the lights turned on. It was their mother.
“Gemma, I thought I told you to get to bed! What are you doing with the fire poker? Look, you’ve got ashes all over your room.”
“Sophie! Sophie!”
Gemma couldn’t think of anything else. The only thing she could think do was find Sophie. She tossed around the clothes that had fallen onto the ground. She would dig if she had to.
“Who’s Sophie?” her mother asked.
No matter how many times that Gemma ran this scenario through her head, she knew she could never be prepared for it. She grabbed the hem of her mother’s nightgown and looked up. She couldn’t see much through the tears staining her eyes.
“Sophia. My sister. My sister.”
“I’m not going to let you blame this mess on your imaginary friend, missy. Now get this cleaned up, and for the last time, go to bed!”
“Sophie was not my imaginary friend! She was my twin! The monster took her—the one she tried to warn you about!”
Gemma didn’t even know why she was talking. It wasn’t going to bring Sophie back. She didn’t even know if Sophie could be brought back. Already, it felt like a voice from Gemma’s own mind was missing. It was a part of her she never imagined she would be without. The only thing that she had left was that stare Sophie gave her as the monster dragged her under. And after being grounded for making such a mess and fibbing, she’d have a good long time to mull it over.
Gemma knew that any time she’d tell her parents this story, there was only one way that it would end. They’d laugh, pat her on the head, and say that same old tired phrase.
“There’s no such thing as monsters.”
Gemma would tell it anyway.
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