L
Most children check under their beds for monsters. Lucy put out a saucer of milk.
She lived in a house that sat on a lay line of bad dreams. Every night, the shadows would coalesce into terrors—spiders with human faces, clowns with razor teeth, shapeless voids of anxiety.
But Lucy wasn't afraid. She was a Tamer.
"No biting," she scolded a Tentacled Dread that was trying to eat her teddy bear. She bopped it on the nose with a rolled-up newspaper. The Dread whimpered and shrank, turning into a harmless black kitten.
Lucy’s power was simple: she didn't believe in their power. To her, a nightmare was just a stray animal acting out because it was hungry or scared.
One night, a King Nightmare appeared. It was a towering figure of shadow and bone, wearing a crown of thorns. It filled the room with a cold that froze the water in the glass.
"I AM THE END OF JOY," the King boomed. "SCREAM FOR ME."
Lucy sat up in her pajamas. "You're loud," she whispered. "My parents are sleeping."
The King paused. "I WILL CONSUME YOUR SOUL."
"You look tired," Lucy observed. She patted the edge of her bed. "Do you want to sit down?"
The King hesitated. No one had ever offered him a seat. They usually ran or died of fright. Confused, he sat. The bed creaked under his metaphysical weight.
"Why are you so scary?" Lucy asked, offering him a cookie.
The King looked at the cookie. He picked it up with a clawed hand. "BECAUSE IF I AM NOT SCARY, I AM NOTHING. I AM MADE OF FEAR."
"That sounds lonely," Lucy said. "Maybe you can be made of something else. Like... chocolate chip?"
The King took a bite. The sweetness hit his tongue—a sensation he had never experienced. The shadows that made up his body began to lighten. The thorns on his crown turned into soft velvet.
"IT IS... GOOD," the King admitted.
He didn't vanish. He stayed. And now, if you look under Lucy's bed, you won't find monsters. You'll find a very large, very dark, and very protective guardian, sleeping soundly with a belly full of cookies.