A Creature Stirring

suspense by Milo James Fowler

“Don’t leave me in here.”

Alfred shut the closet door on his kid sister, blind to her trembling, deaf to her whispered pleas.

“It’s too dark. Please, Alfie.”

Alfred held the doorknob in place, resisting Lillie’s attempts to turn it from inside.

“I won’t be a pest, I promise.”

“You must be quiet,” he hissed, pressing his forehead against the cool semi-gloss. “Remember?”

“But that was just a story, Alfie. It’s not real.”

He closed his eyes and shook his head. “You have to trust me. I know what’s best.”

“What if I have to go to the bathroom?”

The flicker of a smile crossed his slack features.

“You won’t be in there long.”

She stopped fighting him on the doorknob. “I wish Mom and Dad were home.”

“They wouldn’t know what to do.” He released the knob but watched it. “Only I can defeat Massacro.”

“He isn’t real! You made him up, Alfie.”

Glass shattered downstairs, something heavy crashing against the polished wood floor.

Lillie squeaked once and made no other sound.

“Everything will be all right,” Alfred said.

He walked away from the hall closet and toward the stairs.

#

Lillie’s hands clasped tightly to her lips for fear of another squeak.

Don’t go, Alfie!

But the fear twisting her tummy wouldn’t let her call out. She had to be silent. And listen.

Alfie’s footsteps thumped down the stairs, but not in a hurry. Everything remained still and quiet, too quiet, except for Lillie’s breathing. She wondered if Massacro would hear it and come up here and find her curled in a corner of the closet too scared to move.

Alfie said Massacro was a giant zombie stitched together from six dead bodies, and he lived on the blood of children under the age of six. Lillie would be five for another two weeks. Of all the nights for Massacro to come to their house!

But Alfie also said there was a way to kill Massacro: it was a secret, and he was the only one who knew it.

Another crash exploded downstairs with a loud roar. The words were bad, Lillie knew that much right away. Massacro had a potty mouth.

It’s not real. She covered her eyes in the dark, wetting the palms of her hands with tears. It can’t be.

Alfie told her all kinds of stories. There were dragons and spaceships and cowboys and monsters, and always Alfie saved the day. But Lillie knew they weren’t real, that he made them up himself and wrote them down, and she could read some of the words even though he was in fifth grade and she was only in kindergarten. She’d had to sound out M-a-s-s-a-c-r-o a few times before Alfie told her she got it right.

Downstairs laughter erupted, deep and loud like a monster’s — a bully’s laugh making fun of somebody.

Lillie heard Alfie’s voice, and he sounded brave: “Leave or die! I know the secret, and I have the power!”

Just like in his story. The same words he’d read to her earlier that night after their parents had left for dinner and a grown-up movie.

More laughter, followed by more bad words. There was a boy in Lillie’s class who used the same foul language when the teacher wasn’t listening. He ate his own boogers too, licking his fingers like they were lollipops.

Alfie screamed. Lillie knew her brother’s voice, even in pain. Another squeak escaped her lips before she remembered to cover her mouth.

Alfie screamed again, and he started crying. She could hear it even beneath the monster’s laugh.

“Alfie,” she whispered, shuddering in the dark.

She knew she was no match for Massacro. She didn’t know the secret. She didn’t have the power. But maybe she could still help her brother — if only she had enough courage to leave the closet.

#

Alfred choked against the man’s hold on his throat, pinned to the kitchen table.

“I know what you are!” he gasped through tears.

“Yeah? And what’s that, kid?” The man smelled like smoke and B.O. He wore all-black and hadn’t shaved in days.

Alfred fought the strong gloved hand. “Hell spawn!”

The man laughed out loud. “You sound like my ex-wife.” His grip tightened. His features hardened. “You alone here?”

Alfred clenched his teeth. “I know your true name.”

The man frowned. “What?”

Alfred nodded, sucking in a breath as the man’s hold on him relaxed for just a moment. “Massacro,” he hissed, staring him in the eye.

The man cursed. “You’re one weird kid, you know that?”

“Your end is near.”

“Hey.” He thumped Alfred’s head back against the table — hard. “Enough with the crazy talk. I don’t got a lot of time, so how about you show me your rich daddy’s safe?”

Alfred narrowed his gaze. “I would sooner die than aid you.”

The man blinked. Then he cursed, muttering the word delusional between obscenities.

Soft footsteps padded down the stairs and stopped. Again the man’s grip on Alfred relaxed, and he turned his head to see Lillie standing there in her pajamas, tears staining her cheeks.

“Hey there cutie,” the man said, with a broad grin.

Lillie didn’t say anything. She just pointed to the front windows where a car had pulled into the driveway with a flashing red light. The man’s face fell, and he dashed out the side door where he’d disabled the security system.

Lillie ran to the table as Alfred slid off. “Was that him?”

“I told you to stay in the closet.”

She shrugged. “I had to call nine-one-one.”

“Everything was under control.”

Outside, the police shouted, “Get on the ground!”

She blinked. “Was it Massacro?”

He rubbed his neck where strangle marks lingered.

“I don’t think so,” he muttered, dull gaze on the floor.

Lillie could see the disappointment on his face. “One of his minions, maybe?”

Alfred’s eyes brightened at the idea. “Yeah –”

He had a new story to write.

And Lillie was going to help.

Copyright October 2011 by Milo James Fowler

Milo James Fowler lives in San Diego, California. His work has appeared or is forthcoming in over 25 publications, including Daily Science Fiction, Bards and Sages Quarterly and The Best of Every Day Fiction. Stop by anytime at In Media Res.

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