The Blanket

“I know it will seem frightening at first,” the old man says talking about the demons, “but you have to trust me. Just wrap your entire body, head included, with this cloak and there’s no way those things can touch you.”

“It’s a blanket,” I respond with a touch of sarcasm.

“It works every time,” he smiled at me and patted me on the shoulder as he showed me once more how to use this cloth. It was simple enough. When the creatures emerged, and they usually do late at night, I just enshroud my whole body with the blanket- I mean, cloak. Who was I to argue? He was my father after all and he hasn’t steered me wrong my entire life.

But that doesn’t mean I reserve the right to feel frightened when the monsters do come out. I am writing this now from the safe confines of the cloak. Armed with nothing but a flashlight, pencil, and this notebook in which this is written, I am here to make a record every detail of this demonic infestation of the house. Every creak, bump in the wall, or suspicious smell will be duly recorded and should this blanket not be sufficient protection, I will at the very least mapped out the movements of these shadowy beasts.

It’s raining tonight. The clouds collected ominously in the sky the other day and grew dull silver this morning. The rain is relentless and drops the size of large corn kernels are continuously rapping against the glass of the window. Water is spilling in sheets off of the neighbor’s roof from what I can see under this glorified blanket. The moisture in the air is cold and fresh and tempts my heavy eyelids to droop down until sunrise but I need to prove to everyone that these creatures are here.

A few minutes have passed and I can hear creaking. I cannot be entirely sure as to where it is coming from but it is most definitely coming towards me. That’s strange since these things are prone to already be in this room. But maybe I was just fortunate enough to—whatever it is; it’s right beside me this very instant. My breath has escaped my lungs and took away any opportunity to scream but I assure you the desire is there… The cloak seems to be working as I remain hidden—No! There’s been a breach! A large muzzle with a cold nose is within the confines of my protective cloak. I must—Oh, it’s just the dog.

At least now I’m not alone. There is a creaking coming from the window. I hope I can keep this mutt quiet while I note my observations. That creaking could be the house settling. I’ve mistaken the odd cacophony that occurs within the halls of a time tested wooden structure as this one for these monsters. There is another creaking, like a door slowly swinging open. It could be the door to the hallway, perhaps it is the closet and every fiber of my terrified being trembled with hope that it was the former. At the very least, the former provided some sort of impromptu escape plan.

The howling is beginning and I swear I can hear the breathing and growling of hungry beasts enshrouding me. Scratches at the window grow louder with every passing second. Logic made feeble attempts to convince me that the scratching was merely branches brushing up against the window and the howling nothing more than the wind outside the house. But my heart beating its way out of my ribcage and the cold sweat running down my back convinces me otherwise. Wrapped in my cloak, I shut my eyes so tightly that the bridge of my nose is nearly numb. But I assure you I can feel them around me, surrounding me in their own blanket.

Then, something familiar yet frightening finds its way to my ears. Footsteps! They are approaching gently and rhythmically down the hallway towards me. I am holding the dog tightly in the hopes that that will scare away whatever is after me. A tear is about to roll down the side of my face when a voice comes from those footsteps.

“Honey?” Mom? “Is that you underneath that blanket?”

“Dad said it was a cloak!” I reprimand her. “He said it would keep away the monsters!”

“Oh yes, the one’s in the closet? I remember now. Well, that works just fine, but remember if it ever gets too scary here you can always run over to sleep with your father and me.”

“Thanks, mom. But I have to stay here tonight.”

“I know. I’m proud of you; staying in your own room all by yourself for the first time. You’re such a brave little boy. Now, I’ve got you’re hot chocolate ready if you still want it.”

“Extra marshmallows?”

“Extra marshmallows.”

It looks like the monsters’ attempt at taking me into their dark kingdom from the confines of my closet have been thwarted again. But needless to say as long as I have my blanket—I mean my cloak—my dog, and a nice cup of hot chocolate, those shadowy creatures are no match for me.