Ted was a bit of a softy. Weak willed and squishy and unable to grab anything with those stuffed, sewn arms of his. Not that BøRthoLåøxz could judge—his arms were claws made of pure shadow; not much good for anything other than ripping or tearing into Dreamflesh.
But it was irksome, honestly, to see Ted weeping softly, his button eyes unable to shed a single teardrop but still somehow shining with grief.
BøRtho rolled his eyes. “Whaat, Ted? Who’s gone?”
Ted simply wept some more.
BøRtho sighed. “It’s not the spaceman pillowcase again, is it? Just ask Zach to put a new one on he’s got a million—“
Ted sobbed loudly, interrupting him. “I CAAANN’TTT. he’s GOOOONNNEEE!”
BøRtho sat up straight through the bed, abandoning his lounging position and the magazine he’d been flipping through.
“Zach’s gone? Gone where? He only went to the closet to turn out the light.”
“I—I—k-k-knowww,” Ted sobbed brokenly, “but he’s not there anymore. And he’s not here, and he’s goonnee.”
That was a little strange, he had to admit. Zach usually liked to sleep with the closet light on. BøRtho was a little shaken. People really didn’t just vanish into closets, not unless a monster was hiding in them. But the post in Zach’s bedroom was for under the bed, not in the closet, and besides, he was already filling the job. “Ted, people don’t just…vanish into closets. Not without something strange in them already."
Ted looked at him with eyes wet as oceans—even though they were still plush-toy dry. The sentiment wasn’t a lie, but BøRtho could tell it also wasn’t exactly true in this case. He didn’t have the heart to let Ted down.
“He’s probably just…getting a glass of water…from the…Bathroom!”
Ted nodded, and loudly sniffed as his useless cotton arms swiped clumsily at the shiny buttons on his face. “Y-yeah. Bathroom.”
And that was it. Crisis averted, BøRtho could go back to his magazine. Until--
“But—he did go to the closet. And he still isn’t back yet…. Say, BøRthoLåøxz,” (always the full fucking name with this one!), “you don’t happen to know if any mo—...M-words took him, do you?”
Ted thought the word “monster” was offensive. Hilarious. Still didn’t stop him from using its censored version, though. He should hear what the other boogeymen referred to themselves as.
“No, Ted,” BøRtho sighed (they’d been over this ten years ago when he’d first been posted), “a monster definitely didn’t. I got the job here—I’d know if someone else was posted here.”
Ted scrunched his stuffed face as well as he could—not quite reaching fear or disappointment against his sewn-on smile. “So who did take him? He wouldn’t leave us!”
Ted was right—Zach didn’t like having a boogeyman, but he wouldn’t abandon him. And he adored Ted too much to just piss off without a goodbye. “I—don’t know.”
The closet wasn’t dark. The bare bulb on the string still gently hummed with electricity as BøRtho slithered up to it, Ted slowly plodding close behind.
“He isn’t here! I knew it!” Ted began to weep again.
“Ted, calm yourself. I’m sure he’s perfeclty—"
“He’s only 12!” (13. Zach was 13. He’d just had his birthday party yesterday.) “He can’t take care of himself! He needs us! HE’S JUST A BOYYY!!!” the wailing was so loud BøRtho was certain it was going to wake the whole household. At least they wouldn’t have to look for Zach alone.
But then, there came a voice. “Why, that’s not true!"
The pair turned to look at the figure who had appeared in the light of the closet behind them. It was a woman, tall and larger than Zach. She seemed to glow in the dim, golden light, and was dressed in soft, comfortable clothes.
“He’s not a little boy anymore, Ted.” She stooped down to pick him up, and BøRtho curled around her ankles as if he could actually hurt a being made of golden light and cashmere.
“Who—who are you?” Ted sniffled, but at least he wasn't sobbing anymore. Teddy bears. Always so quick to change their mood.
The woman’s eyes twinkled. “Oh, I think you’ve heard of me. Who does he call in the middle of the night when he’s scared or hurt, BøRthoLåøxz? Who hugs him even better than you do, Teddy?"
Ted gasped. BøRtho gaped. The Mom. Moms were widely heard of, but they had a magic that dispelled boogeymen away from children, and that made Teddy Bears sort of just—float away until their children were alone again. They had never seen one up close.
She looked down at him. “Yes, BøRtho, I’m Zac’s mom. I’m the first person who noticed the change, and while it will be painful to watch him drift away from us, I think ultimately it’s for the best that you helped him grow up.”
“So..our job…was to help Zach grow up?” BøRtho definitely hadn’t been told about this at orientation.
“And you’ve done a wonderful job preparing him for us! Fear, and comfort, in equal amounts! Zac—he spells it without the H, now—is going to grow up into a fine adult! His father and I are excited to see how he becomes his own person. Thank you,” and she gently stroked Ted’s cheek, and her hands glowed with golden light that swirled down Ted’s fur and made him twitch and shiver a little.
Ted began to cry again, and large drops of water fell to the floor. Almost too big for a teddy bear. “B-but..he’ll forget us!”
The Mom smiled tearfully. “Oh, but that’s the best part: he won’t forget you. He just won’t always be with you. He’ll tell stories about us to his friends. He’ll recall your soft arms when he passes toy stores, and your reaching claws when the wind shakes the tree branches in the middle of the night! Whenever he’s scared, he’ll think of you, BøRthoLåøxz. And Ted, he’ll pass you onto his own child someday! And you’ll smile again.” She gently tapped on Ted’s stitching, his usually-stiff smile now a sorrowful, kinetic frown.
“But what do we do until then? I thought this job was for the long-haul,” BøRtho piped up. There was an uncertainty to this whole thing that made his (entirely metaphorical) knees weak.
“Oh, well, sometimes it is. But usually Boogeymen get reassigned sometime after puberty. Unless they retire, that is. Or transition to Sleep Paralysis Demons.” She gently quirked an eyebrow at him.
BøRtho rubbed the back of his shapeless neck, scratching non-existent hairs. “Ah-I dunno. I—I kind of liked being the monster I was. Nice, soft gig, didn’t need to do anything truly horrific. Can we just—go back to how it was before?” It was the sort of thing rational individuals never imagined themselves saying—until they said it. And the shameful surprise of the words caused some teary ectoplasm to leak out of BøRtho’s gaping, jagged eyeholes.
“Oh, my darlings,” and The Mom leaned down from her towering height and hugged them both close. “Nothing can ever be the same as it was. It must be new. And new again. You’ll have to keep those memories where they belong: in your hearts, and in the stories you tell to each other on the shelf while you sit and wait for the next child. Or to that child when the time comes.”
She pulled back, looking as sad as if she felt what they did. “Things must change.”
Ted started to delicately cry silent tears. “But I didn’t want a change!”
“That’s the thing about change, my darlings,” and she picked them up and put them on the closet shelf, “no one wants it until after it happens.” And she turned off the bare bulb of the closet, leaving them in darkness.
But she didn’t close the door, so the glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling and the nightlight in the corner and the soft glow of moonlight from the window all illuminated the darkness in the faint glow of something magical. Something that felt like love.
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