Every day this year had been the same for timid, five year-old, Bobby. He would wake up, burrowed deep in his blankets and peek around, checking for the worst. He would then sprint to the kitchen where warm pancakes waited for him. For one syrupy sweet moment, all of Bobby’s fears were forgotten. He would then ride to school, where he attempted to focus. When he arrived home, he would watch cartoons before falling asleep in his daddy’s arms. The horrors of nighttime were soon to come.

Bobby ran for his life as a slimy, demonic monster chased him through the playground. He stood at the top of slide as the monster reached up for him. Its long, pale fingers grasped Bobby’s ankle and he slipped down the slide. Bobby’s eyes popped open and beads of sweat dripped down his face. He burned up beneath the bedcovers, but couldn’t fathom removing them in case the demon waited outside. His legs prickled as if one thousand needles were poking him because of his lack of movement. His chest was also on fire from the blankets and his brain pulsed from the strain. After eternity, the sunshine lit up the room and Bobby continued on in routine.

Night fell and Bobby eventually drifted to sleep. Soon, a furry, black leg reached out from under his bed. Slowly, a beastly body emerged, dripping with blood. His five eyes appraised Bobby. He screamed and suddenly his parents burst through the door. He opened his eyes, tears streaming down his little face.
His mom cuddled him while his dad checked the room for monsters. All of the sudden, his dad dashed away. He returned shortly, holding three old socks and a wooden sword. Bobby’s mom and dad hid behind his bed and put the socks over their hands. The green sock began to “run” across the bed, chasing the smallest sock. The small sock ran as fast as he could, but fell short. The monster sock trapped him in a corner. The third sock was the largest of all. It yelled at the monster, telling it to mind its own business. The monster sock turned its attention to the big sock. The sock pulled out its sword and slashed the monster across its tummy. The sock monster writhed in pain and fell. Bobby clapped when his parents bowed. They awarded the sword to Bobby and he hopped out of bed, slicing the sword through the air.

“Now you will never be alone. Use this sword to battle your way through the beasts,” his mom encouraged.

The next night, Bobby slept with the sword below his pillow. When the full moon was at its highest, a werewolf jumped through the window and howled. His lips curled to reveal rows of pointy, yellow teeth like a shark. His wiry hairs stood straight up as if he had goose bumps. His tail slowly cut the air, knocking the lamp off Bobby’s desk. Bobby froze. His heart was racing and his hair stood up just as much as the werewolf, only in fear, not anticipation. Then Bobby remembered his secret weapon. He whipped the sword out from under his pillow. The wolf cowered away, its tail and ears flattened against his body. Bobby ran around the room thrusting his sword into the wolf until it could take no more. The werewolf leapt out the window, whimpering as it fled. Bobby’s mother came into the room and gently shook him awake.

“Time for school little one.”

Bobby smiled for the first time in months. “I’ve done it mommy! They ‘re gone!”

“I knew you could do it sweetie!” Then she wrapped him in the tightest bear hug ever.