There are places within our homes that we would like to think pose no threat. That our individual homes lie in complete safety and security, but we couldn't be farther from the truth. Don't believe me? Well, let's just say that I have the receipts, but I'm only willing to release them to you one at a time.
Case in point: The often drafty and dusty attic. That place where seasonal items reside when they are not in use, as well as the things that will never again see the light of day. Which of course, brings us to the dark recesses of the large storage closet that is just as difficult to access as it is packed to the gills with unnecessary items.
However, neither these nor any other room can compare with the basement. Yes, that oft dark and lonely place. Home to all manner of forgotten articles, as well as sparse, necessary equipment. And what space it has available is commandeered by the noises made by the washing machine, dryer and most disturbing of all, the furnace.
Very few, grown, mature adults feel threatened by the shadowy corners that infest this subterranean space. Children however, can be another matter. Few of them are comfortable with that most diabolical of floors. Fewer still, will even set foot within its frame. Yet, there is one child who is not afraid.
Her name is Tabitha, with the moniker little to distinguish herself from her mother as she felt junior sounded too much like a boy. Open minded as she is about gender norms she still likes to have certain aspects lend to a definite, feminine countenance. As such, it is her preferred method for introducing herself to new acquaintances.
Tabby, as she's more affectionately known, is the kind of girl who is not afraid of anything. The dark does not scare her. Rats do not scare her. Not even clowns can cause the hairs on her neck to stand to attention. Which they should. No rational human being can find these denizens of painted mirth anything, but traumatically scarring.
Back to a less terrifying subject, Little Tabitha likes her old house and it is very old. How old exactly? I'm not sure, but I'm told very, very old. She likes the warmth that it seems to exude at all hours of the day. It's never too cold, nor uncomfortably hot. It is always a proper temperature for a cozy homestead.
The activity that most delights Tabby is playing with her tie-dye colored, bouncy ball. She likes to toss it into the corner and see which direction it goes. You'd think videogames or some such entertainment would be chief in her interests, and you might be right, but she is not allowed to own such idiot inducing devices, according to her mother, only play them at a friend's house.
One such occasion sees the toy bounce down the hallway, against the closed in walls and bare, wooden floor that make for excellent surfaces for the rubbery projectile to keep its velocity for as long as is possible. There is no telling where it will go and that is the fun of it, but this time it passes through the open cat door.
Little Tabitha hurries to the obstacle and listens as the ball bounces down the old, wooden steps that lead to the basement. She opens the door, clicks on the overhead light and descends the poorly illuminated platforms. All the while she listens beyond the creaking wood, but can hear nothing to indicate the direction of her toy.
Once down the stairs, Tabby begins the search for her ball in earnest. The basement, however, is still far too dark, as the light over the stairs provides very little illumination past the staircase. This isn't much of a problem, as there's another light situated in the middle of the room. She turns it on and a pale lightbulb gives off its glare.
Little Tabitha looks about and soon finds her plaything. It's seated in a corner furthest from the stairs. Right next to a bin of potatoes. Into the corner she goes and soon has her ball. Suddenly, the main light blacks out. She turns. The basement is now almost completely dark. The light afforded by the stairway does little more than cast eerie shadows.
Very carefully, Tabby steps forward, hoping she doesn't bump into anything in the dark. She stops. Something's out there. She can hear it breathing. A shadow jumps from out of the darkness, landing directly in front of her, half of its body painted with the lackluster lightning, the other half almost completely dark.
The strange creature hold for the briefest of moments before issuing a tremendous roar and raising its claws in a menacing fashion. The sight is as terrifying as it can possibly get, given that this is a children's story, so you can't expect any real violence or gore to be part of it, now can you? On to the story.
The motion startles Little Tabitha, but only for a moment. She leans her face close, toward her would be adversary and beeps its nose. "You silly little sausage," she says with a goofy grin across her lips.
"What?!" the creature cries in disbelief and drops its arms.
"I called you-" she begins again and places her hands on her hips.
"I know what you called me!" the thing snaps back, cutting her off while crossing its arms. "Why aren't you scared?!"
"Should I be?" Tabby replies without hesitation and tilts her head.
"Yes!" the monster throws back with a look on its face that screams, 'Are you serious?'. "You're supposed to be terrified!"
"Why?" Tabby inquires with genuine interest while fixing her powerful blue eyes upon the creature.
"Why, because look at me!" the thing barks as it gestures toward its strange body. "I'm covered in hairs and have long claws and sharp teeth! I'm a monster!"
"I guess you are," Tabby remarks and nods her head.
"Then why aren't you scared?!" the monster demands and stamps a foot.
"Because, Gran taught me," Tabby explains and holds one hand outward. " 'There are no such things as monsters, it's all in your head.' Which makes you a figment of my imagination."
"I am not a figment, or any other fruit for that matter," the monster rejects the assertion and bares its bottom lip. "I am a real, live, terrible monster."
"Okay, mister monster," Tabby humors her conversationalist partner and taps her chin. "Then what are you going to do next?"
"Next?!" the monster fires back as confusion creases its face.
"Yes, you just tried to scare me," Tabby summarizes the passing moments as she starts to count on one hand. "Now what?"
"Well, that's it," the monster admits and looks quite crestfallen.
"That's it? That's all you do?" Tabby returns and arches her eyebrow. "Just jump out and scare little girls and then run away, or something?"
"That's about the size of it," the monster offers while looking thoroughly flummoxed.
"That can't-" Tabby carries on as she puzzles all the more the logic of the situation.
"Tabitha!" a faint voice cries from somewhere atop the steps.
"Yes mommy?!" Tabby returns as she angles toward the origin of the speaker.
The basement door swings open. "What are you doing down there?" her mother calls down.
"I'm just getting my ball," Tabby explains as she eyes the treasure in her hand.
"Well, what was the yelling, then?" her mother inquires.
"That was…" Tabby cuts herself short, as she turns around and finds the monster is gone. She darts her head about and spies the creature running into a wall, while disappearing at the same time. All the while the girl is unaware that her mother is still calling her.
"Tabitha Louise Montgomery!" her mother uses her full name. "You get yourself up these stairs right now!"
That snaps Tabby out of her daze. She hurries to the stairs, but not before giving one last glance toward the magical wall and she bolts up and out the door.