The Puppeteer’s Closet (Part I)
Shadows aren’t supposed to weave the webs and spin and spin and spin. They spin and melt into creatures with black holes for eyes. They drink all the light through their eyes then disappear into the closet when Mama comes to tuck me in.
I stared blankly at the spiders. The black diamond arachnids.
They didn’t like me very much. That was what I thought at the age of seven. Really, it was a severe understatement.
NINE YEARS OLD, ALAYNA
The door swung open, sibilating a hiss that sent a shiver down my spine. Not too much unlike the claws of the shadows running down my back. Chilling with a sense of foreboding. Mama stepped through the hissing door, like light incarnate. Maybe it was because she didn’t notice. Maybe the light around her chased away the darkness. Maybe that’s why she was oblivious to my nightmares.
It was selfish of me but sometimes I wished that she could see what terrified me too.
She did.
~
“Mama?”
“Yes, darling?”
“Could you shut the closet?”
“Darling, I told you that there’s nothing scary in your miniature walk-in closet! It’s absolutely charming and the shade of pink is beautiful,”
The closet was a shade of blue, a mix of navy and obsidian, like the colour of dark mares of the night and tainted innocence.
“Close it, Mama, please! Lock it, destroy it, close it!” My voice raised in a crescendo, ascending in pitch as anxiety closed in on me and paranoia suffocated me. Perhaps it wasn’t my emotions, maybe it was them.
Mama tucked me in without replying. Why are her hands so cold? Wait. No.
I looked up. Mama's eyes were onyx black and devoid of warmth.
"Darling, why don't I check the closet for you?"
~END OF PART I~