In The Still Of The Night

A young girl was lying in a bed, long black hair messed up, eyes wide and filled with fear. Tiny hands clutched at her mother's sleeve, her violet gaze darting all over the room as though searching for something.

She knew something was amiss. She had known it all the time, for as long as she could remember.

It was out there.

Being a mere child, she couldn't pin words to it as every single one of her instincts screamed at her. The fear ran deep, embodied in visions of child horror; of claws underneath the bed, waiting to tear her apart in its grasp. Of the 'boogyman', all scales and scars and gaping flash, hungry for innocence. Of the unknown, the gaping hole of nothingness that promised a never-ending fall.

Every shadow that leapt across the room, every wisp of sound, every minute movement grabbed her attention, consistantly causing her to fidget and peer around fearfully.

- . . . tap tap tap . . . tap tap tap . . .-

"Mom", she whispered, drawing the covers up, fearfully looking out of the window.

"It's just a tree, honey", her mom smiled, tucking the covers around her.

-She's wrong . . . It's not a tree-

"But mom . . . -".

"Shush sweetie. Go to sleep. There's nothing to be afraid about", her mom gestured to the window. Soft light spilling from a lamp showed a tree branch waving gently beside the window pane. "See?".

The wind made the branck twitch, as thought beckoning to her.

-It's not a tree . . . trees don't do that . . .-

As though reading her thoughts, shadows flickering outside made it seem to smile mockingly.

-Trees don't smile . . .-

"Goodnight", her mom smoothened her wild black mane, then got up to leave. She paused in the doorway when she saw her daughter's fear-stricken expression. "It's just a tree honey. Goodnight". With that she closed the door.

She wanted to cry. Instead, she burrowed under the covers and covered her ears, preparing herself for what she knew to be inevitable.

-It's not a tree . . . trees don't whisper . . .-

Then it began.

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It came out of the darkness as it always did. The voice, low and raspy, seemed to call out from all around her. She trembled.

"Pretty girl, pretty girl," it crooned, as hidden fingers began to touch and twine through her hair. Twisting around, she tore through their grasp, sobs wracking her little body.

The voice laughed, clearly enjoying her fear, "Pretty hair, don't be afraid. Pretty, pretty hair".

"Leave me alone!", she cried out, her throat hoarse from all her crying, her face streaked with tears.

"Pretty one, little tiny pretty one . . . don't be afraid pretty girl, pretty hair, pretty eyes, don't be afraid very very pretty tiny one . . .".

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She woke up with a jolt, her pajamas drenched with sweat. "Dream?", she wondered hopefully, tugging at her hair and trying to slow and calm her breathing.

She started when she heard a soft tap. Despite herself, her gaze was drawn towards the window. The branch was still there, tapping softly, She whimpered. It seemed to transform then, a wild maevolent grin meeting her gaze, "Pretty girl".

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"Yowan!".

The creature dangling from the branches twisted around, glee in its hideously gnarled features as it sought the source of the voice. "Master", it hissed, adoration evident in its large froglike yellow eyes as it untangled its limbs from the tree and dropped to the ground, scurrying to the rider who had seemed to materialize out of nowhere.

"Master", it crooned, clutching the rider's boot, before wrapping its long limbs around the leg. The mount did nothing, save to snort its irritation.

"Yowan", the rider looked down at it. Beautiful, startling green eyes did not waver as it met the visage of the creature, daring it to look away. "I told you not to disturb the pretty one".

"Pretty one," it echoed, awe in its grating voice, "Pretty child, pretty hair, pretty little one, pretty very afraid, poor pretty eyes, poor pretty pretty eyes . . . ".

"Enough!", the rider commanded roughly, cuffing the creature and causing it to tumble to the ground, crying out in pain. "Never, ever disturb her. She is too precious to damage".

"Pretty master, wonderful master", gibbered the creature, drooling as it rocked to and fro on the ground, mindless of the blood streaming from the cut on its face.

The sharp features softened, a strange warmth filling the rider's emerald eyes. "Yowan, come now. Dawn shall come upon us soon, and we should part before then".