Stories from the Stringam Family Ranches of Southern Alberta

From the 50s and 60s to today . . .



Thursday, August 17, 2017

Monsters

Picture credit
I have a vivid imagination.
I know it will come as no surprise to many of you.
It has been a great source of both entertainment—and agony—throughout my life.
The entertainment—the stories that I’ve created, both real and . . . less real.
The agony—well let’s just say we’ve finally come to the subject of this story . . .
When I was little (ie. 4), I slept by myself.
I know it sounds incredible in a household containing (then) four children that I would get my own room, but it’s true. I was on the lower floor in the room closest to my parents. All that was between us was the stairway going up to the room where my older sister slept and that occupied by my two older brothers.
Moving on . . .
I would happily go to bed each night (It’s my story, I’ll remember it as I want) with the door open and light spilling into the room from the activities of those who did not go to bed at dusk.
All was well.
But, inevitably, I would wake sometime in the night to discover that—while I slept—the scenario had changed.
The most important part of which would be that the lights were out.
Eep.
Now in the thick darkness, monsters gathered.
I should point out that I had never seen said monsters. But my vivid imagination (see above) had peopled the darkness with them in astonishing detail—slavering, sharpened fangs. Giant, little-girl catching claws. Glowing red eyes. You probably understand.
I knew they were there. They knew they were there.
Now it was up to my Mom to make them go away.
Off would go the covers and a tiny, little elf-like (okay it’s time to use your imagination) girl would scramble madly the few paces to her parent’s room.
Me: “Mom!”
Mom: “Gaahhh!”
Me: “Can I sleep with you?”
Mom: “Fine.”
Dad: “Gaahhh!”
And I would snuggle down between my parents and drift off blissfully to sleep.
I can’t recall exactly when this practice ended. Suffice it to say it was at some point before I reached adulthood.
But it was revived after I became a parent.
And had a little four-year-old girl of my own.
The scenario was a bit different. She wouldn’t say anything. Just silently appear at one’s bedside and wait for one to become cognizant of the fact that she was there.
A little wraith.
Standing there beside your bed.
In the dark.

14 comments:

  1. Did her eyes glow in the dark? Are you sure it wasn't an eveil doppleganger?

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I'm quite sure they did! I knew it!!! And now she's raising my grandchildren!

      Delete
  2. Sweet story! "It's my story and I'll remember it how I want." I agree! LOL.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Heehee! Writers have all power. I keep telling my kids: Never, never anger a writer.

      Delete
  3. " She wouldn’t say anything. Just silently appear at one’s bedside and wait for one to become cognizant of the fact that she was there."

    Because if you speak, the monsters will KNOW you are there :)

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. It's true. They can sense the smallest sound!

      Delete
  4. That silent stare is sooooo effective.

    ReplyDelete
  5. I was fortunate. My son didn't seek me out at night. What he did do, I don't know (and maybe I don't want to know). The lock on my door must have helped (only kidding, son. Only kidding.)

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Hmmm . . . locked door. Why didn't we think of that?!

      Delete
  6. I've never understood the monsters part of the dark. Afraid of the dark I understand, (although I'm not), but why do kids imagine monsters when the lights are out? I never did and as far as I know, none of my family ever has.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Your family is just smarter than ours! And you probably sleep better, too. Sigh.

      Delete
  7. What an intriguing tale from the past.

    ReplyDelete

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