It’s The Schgreeeken!

The little boy’s cries quieted when his mother entered the bedroom.  “Hush,” she soothed.  “You’ve just had a bad dream.”

“It’s the schgreeeken,” he whimpered, pointing to the partially-open window.

His mother peered through the crack in the curtains, straining to see into the inky blackness outside.  “All I see is the wind blowing a branch from the tree, making it scrape against the gutter,” she said to comfort him.  “That’s what’s making the scary noise.  Daddy will cut the branch off tomorrow so it won’t do that anymore.”

“No, it’s the schgreeeken!” the little boy whispered more plaintively.  “It’s coming to take me away!”

“The noise will stop when the wind dies down,” his mother said.  “Roll over now and close your eyes.  You want to be ready for the Hallowe’en party at school tomorrow, don’t you?”

The little boy scrunched down under the blankets obediently as his mother kissed him lovingly.  She took her time, nuzzling his ear, rumpling his hair, drinking in that little-boy smell she adored.  “You’re safe, my little one.  Nobody wants to take you away.  Sleep well.”

A few minutes after she closed the door behind her, and after the little boy’s breathing had resumed its deep, somnolent rhythm, the curtains parted silently as the schgreeeken slithered stealthily into the room.

_{© J. Bradley Burt 2023}