As a child, I had anxiety due to PTSD. As a child, I would have benefited from reading this story—that's why I wrote it.
Petal's Monster
Petal crept into her Mom's bedroom, silently she crawled onto her Mom's bed and--.
Click. Lamplight cut through the dark.
"Not again." Mom signed. "We've been over and over this. You're a big girl. You need to sleep in your own bed."
"No, I can't. It's under my bed," Petal said.
"There's nothing there. Come with me. I'll show you." Mom picked up a flashlight and led Petal back to her room.
Mom shone the flashlight under the bed. The beam of light hit something. It moved.
Petal tugged on her Mom's arm. "The monster! We need to get out of here. Now!"
Mom bent over and scooped something up in her hand. She showed it to Petal. "See. It's just a ball of dust."
Scrape. Scrape. Scrape.
"I can hear it moving." Petal wrapped her arms around her mom's leg.
Mom shone the flashlight at the window. "It's a tree branch." Mom frowned. "It's late. We both need to get to sleep. Don't wake me again."
Petal crawled into her bed.
"Remember, it's nothing. Just your imagination playing tricks on you." Mom left the door open a crack.
Petal heard Mom go down the hall and into her bedroom. She heard Mom close her door. Petal was all alone. Bravely, she pulled the covers up to her chin and squeezed her eyes closed. "It's nothing," she said, over and over again.
Scrape. Scrape. Scrape.
Petal's eyes popped open. "Mom says you're just a tree branch, but you sound so close. Like you're under my bed."
"I'm going to get you," the monster said.
"But Mom said--."
A fluffy arm reached out from under the bed. It caught hold of Petal's pajama pant leg. It grabbed Petal's ankle. It kept pulling and pulling. "You're coming with me," the monster said, and pulled her off the b--.
Petal coiled her fingers into fists. "No, I'm not."
"You're not?"
"No, I'm not. Stop pulling me."
The monster stopped pulling.
"Let go of me."
The monster let go.
"You're not a monster."
"I'm not?"
"No, you're not. You're nothing. You're not even here."
Fizzle, snap, poof. Nothing was under her bed. The monster was gone.
All Petal saw was her fluffy teddy bear, Sunny. She picked him up and climbed back into bed.
"It's time to go to sleep," Petal told Sunny, "but don't be afraid, I'm right here."
Petal closed her eyes and fell asleep.
with Perky
Sharing my Author Journey...
A couple of weeks ago or maybe a month a neighbour set boxes--6 or maybe 8--of books in front of her house with a sign that read 'free'. Who can pass such an invitation? Not me. My dog had to wait for our walk to continue while I looked. I returned home with an armful of books--6 or maybe 8. Among the books: Poems by Maya Angelou. Ever after, I've been waking to her words. Decadence! Sweet decadence!
On Saturday, October 26, I wrote this poem of thanks to Maya Angelou...
For Maya Angelou
I don't want to read you quickly
Your poems race before my eyes
I want to savour each word
Your poems race before my eyes
I want you to stay but
Your poems race before my eyes
I want to die like Maya Angelou did--birthing a manuscript.
