In the Dark by Jenna Cornell

The dark rested upon his skin like a rash nobody wanted. Joey knew this would pass, but the deep navy and coal hues were like circular hurricanes waiting to envelope him whole. The ebony shadows painted on the walls, the ones resting on the dresser, and the quicksand traps on the floor crept stealthily closer and closer to his bed. Concurrent throbs of his rapid-fire heartbeat stomped to the same rhythmic drumming. With his teddy bear choked in his arms, Joey slowly moved underneath the force field of his covers to escape the darkness. Thump. The bear struggled for breath; Joey held his own all the same. A second thump rattled the floor. His eyes shifted back and forth. He knew he couldn’t hold his breath for long. One meticulously slow breath in, one meticulously silent breath out while not moving under the covers. A third thump tremored his bed and pulsed through his body. Joey let out a small scream quickly covering his revealing mouth. He squeezed his eyes tight; tighter than he ever had before. Maybe if he lain as still as possible, it won’t get him this time.

Suddenly, the covers ripped off leaving Joey exposed to the shadows. The bear, now crumpled in his grasp, could do nothing to save him. His lungs couldn’t get breath in fast enough. Clammy pressure enfolded his ankles. Frozen – Joey’s voice was now held hostage by his fear. The grip around his ankles grew increasingly tighter. He frantically looked for something to grab. The bedpost. The bedpost. THE BEDPOST! Reaching, Joey’s fingers were just short of their goal. In his mind, he kicked his legs powerfully but, in reality, they didn’t move an inch. A low, monstrous growl rolled over the footboard like fog; its warmth steamed against Joey’s feet. Unhurried, his body was powerfully towed down the bed. Grasping at the fitted sheet as one last effort to save himself, he had to let go of his bear, his cherished bear, his best friend. The bear, regaining its fluff, stayed lifeless as Joey disappeared over the edge of the footboard.

The ebony shadows danced across the walls in merriment while the ones on the dresser entertained the eager crowd beneath the bed: boy versus monster was on full display in coal and navy hues. The red and yellow eyes under the bed gazed at Joey’s predicament in delight. Startled by their sparkling white teeth, Joey kicked and punched the monster harder. Deep laughter bellowed from the monster’s gullet – his own teeth reflecting the dim light. The little ones under the bed cheered at tonight’s performance; their tails and feet clapped against the floor. Joey loathed their joy at his suffering. His eyes squinted. His fists clenched. With one more valiant push against the monster, he screamed, “No!”

The monster, losing its balance, crashed against the floor. The audience, stunned into silence, peered at Joey as he grabbed the covers and disappeared back onto his bed. Quickly sneaking under the force field again with the bear snuggly under his arm, Joey heard a deep, gravelly promise.

“See you Friday night, boy.”


Jenna Cornell has an MFA in creative and professional writing. She also holds an MA in creative writing and screenwriting. A writer, filmmaker, and visual artist, her latest poem, “Serenity”, was published in the Bramble Winter/Spring 2024. Jenna is currently working on several writing, film, and visual projects.

 

Published 10/31/24