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You might wonder why the walls of the office were painted black. You might also wonder, why all windows were covered. (Perhaps the person working there was allergic to sunlight?) Not quite. And of course, you might wonder why the writing desk and chair were hanging from the ceiling. (Perhaps the person working there was a bat?) Yes, sort of. Vanita was not exactly a bat, meaning she was not a small, black mammal with the unusual ability to fly. She could fly, at least a little bit, and she was closer to being a mammal than, say, a reptile or fish. But Vanita was not that small and she had no particular talent for echolocation. She was very fluffy, and pitch black, with small, fail wings. And she was head of the CBD of the MAC – that’s short for Children’s’ Bed Department of the Monster Assignment Centre –, Nightmare Alley 12-14, Worryville. I am sure you assume that Vanita was an especially skilled bed monster, being in such a position. As it is, she was dreadful, and not in the sense they wanted her to be. She was dreadful by being not so dreadful at all, and therefore unsuited for actually doing her work. The Big Boss decided she would do best in an office, and now she’s the Not So Big Boss of millions of monsters. That’s the customary process in most authorities, and Vanita’s world as well as ours. In case you didn’t know, authorities are people who decide about other people’s lives to their own entertainment, even though the people they make decisions about are not necessarily entertained. Just like dentists and gym teachers, the monsters were entertained by the dread of small children – who were not particularly entertained by the monsters. Except for Vanita, of course. Everyone agreed that she was not of much use.
“Vanita, get up here,” called the Big Boss. Of course, the Not So Big Boss did as she was told. “What do you want me for?” she asked her boss, who scowled at her. “As you are aware, we’ve had four very problematic children these nights, and you’ve sent out our most proficient monsters last week. Any results so far?”
“Well, Jerome didn’t get to sleep these nights, and fell behind in school,” said Vanita as she took a seat. “Just yesterday, he got a D in his favourite subject.”
“Very bad,” noted the Big Boss approvingly and took a note in a small purple book. “And Chelsea,” continued Vanita, “was unable to sleep alone. She always joined her parents at night.”
“But no monster could follow her there, that’s good,” said the Big Boss with another, gloomy scowl. “Well yes,” said Vanita, “but her parents are very annoyed by her and started to complain a lot. Sooner or later, she’ll have to sleep in her bed again, and she’s very unhappy about arguing with her parents so much.”
“That makes for another unhappy child, thank you.”
“And Matthew,” said Vanita, “began to talk about creepy dreams in school and at his friends’ homes. All grown ups are very concerned and call him a bad, and frightening influence on their children, and so he’s got no one to play with.”
“Quite an outcast, heh?” asked the Big Boss and chuckled. “And what about that other girl, Annie?”
“I assume you mean, Annabelle, sir,” said Vanita and shifted uncomfortably in her chair. She was anxious about this question for quite a while now. “Well, she’s… she’s dyed-in-the-wool, I’m afraid to say.”
The Big Boss scowled even more by now, almost covering his half dozen eyes with his brow. “What does that mean, dyed-in-the-wool?” he asked. “Well,” said Vanita, “it means she’s unteachable, incorrigible, there’s no-”
“I KNOW WHAT IT MEANS!”
“But you said-”
“We’ve send her Vlad, haven’t we?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And he’s our best monster, isn’t he?”
“He is, indeed.”
“Then why isn’t she frightened by now?”
Vanita took a deep breath. “I have no idea,” she said. That wasn’t quite true. Usually the phrase “I have no idea,” is used to indicate that one doesn’t know, and Vanita certainly did not know. However, in her case, the phrase didn’t really apply, as she did have an idea. She thought that maybe-
“Vlad is much to valuable to continue working on a hopeless case,” said the Big Boss, disturbing her thoughts as the bed monsters disturb sleeping children and beautiful dreams. “We’ll need him for something appropriate, you see.”
“And who’s going to bother Annabelle?” asked Vanita, who couldn’t think of a monster able to frighten that girl. “Should we just leave her alone?”
“LEAVE HER ALONE?” The Big Boss was appalled. “What do you mean, leave her alone?”
“I mean-”
“Stop it, Vanita. You will find someone to take care of her – just not a good monster. Someone who will bother her in time, without being wasted as much as Vlad would be.”
“I could do it,” said Vanita. She had no idea (okay, almost an idea) why she suggested herself. The words simply came out of her snout.
“You? Don’t be ridiculous. Your adorable, it’s disgusting. Nobody could be frightened of you.”
“Well, perhaps her? After all, she’s had pretty much all of us under her bed by now. Or would you like to volunteer?” Of course, he didn’t. And so he said: “I suppose it’s your job to assign monsters. But who’s going to fill your shoes then?” Of course, Vanita wasn’t wearing any shoes. He meant “But who’s going to fill your chair then?”
“Whoever I replace with Vlad – he’s in need of a job, after all.” And so that was decided.
Monsters don’t have luggage. They don’t eat or drink the way you and I do, nor do they have to use the potty toilet. And most importantly, monsters usually wear no clothes, and those who do always wear the same. It is a mystery to me, and all monsterologists or monster biographers (I myself am of the latter kind – at least, that’s what I am closer to than the first) how they manage to not get dirty. Except, of course, for the dirty monsters. Long story short: Vanita didn’t have to prepare a lot. She called Vlad and Prawny into her office, and told them that Vlad would take over Prawny’s job (a girl named Jessica, who was semi-easily frightened) while Prawny was to take care of her office for a while. “Does that mean I’ve sunken that low?” he asked in a devastated voice. “Actually,” said Vanita, “you’ve got an upgrade – at least for a while. And it is not because of your qualifications in any way, so stop complaining.”
Then, she went into the DBR (Default Bed Room) of the CBD of the MAC. It looked like the most average children’s’ room you could imagine. It was light (unlike the other rooms – which made it very uncomfortable and frightening for most monsters) and colourful (that was even worse!) and contained a writing desk, toys, posters, and – most importantly – the BIB of the DBR of the CBD of the MAC: the Big Important Bed, representative of all children’s’ beds, cradles, cribs, bunk beds and sleeping bags in our world. It was the only way for a monster to get under a child’s bed quickly, and without being caught, and so Vanita crouched down, and whispered “Annabelle, the brave girl’s bed” three times, while crawling under the BIB. At first, nothing happened. Then it got dark.
Vanita hasn’t haunted the space between a child’s bed and the floor in years, and almost forgot how it feels to travel there. It was as though for a short period of time her body vanished (even for her, it was to dark to see if that was true) and then, slowly put together again, while the slight lights of the room began to reveal her surroundings. She was nested between spiderwebs, dust bunnies, chewing gum and sum old toys. There was also a book (apparently for very small children – Annabelle must have lost it years ago – and hard candy. Otherwise, there was only dust and Vanita.
“I’m going to make my homework,” Vanita could hear an inappropriately excited voice shout near the door, through which a little girl came into the room. She looked older than she did on the photo in her files, and much more tired. Perhaps nine, pale, with dark rings under her eyes. She looked physically healthy, but apparently she didn’t sleep a lot lately. How could that be? Vanita wondered. After all, she hasn’t been scared yet. Vanita crouched closer to the edge of the bed – reminding her slightly of that one time she was almost suspended for leaving her space under the bed, and making herself visible to a human being – and tried to peek at the girl, without making the same old mistake. The girl really did make her homework, or at least it looked as though she did. She sat on her writing desk, and wrote eagerly in a big notebook. She did not seem to enjoy it, but it didn’t bother her either. She merely worked herself through it. “Stupid Clarissa,” she said silently to herself, without taking a break from writing, “and stupid Andrew, and stupid Kevin, and stupid Miranda, and stupid…” It went on and on like that. When she was finished with her homework, she always stopped saying “stupid” and names. Instead she threw herself on her bed, almost crushing Vanita. For such a small, thin thing, she was surprisingly heavy.
I wonder what’s wrong, thought Vanita to herself. But nobody answered. (Of course, nobody could hear her, but she was still sad about it. She belonged to a colony like a crow belonged to a murder, and not under a bed.) There was silence for a while, until it slowly got darker. Then, Annabelle said: “You are not Vlad.” Vanita said nothing. “Who are you?” asked the girl. Again, no reply. “Do you think you can make me stop just by ignoring me? They don’t stop when being ignored and neither will I!” The a bump! the girl jumped out of bed and landed just beside Vanita. The monster didn’t move, didn’t breathe (not that she’d needed to) and didn’t speak. Annabelle got closer, and was finally lying next to her new monster. “You don’t look like a monster,” she said, with a surprising fearfulness in her voice. Vanita suspected that a girl who wasn’t frightened by the worst of all monsters could maybe feel uneasy with a monster that never frightened anybody before, but she was still surprised by the child’s sudden change of heart. “I- I mean… you don’t look like a human, of course, or like most animals, but you are not… you are not like Vlad or Gloomy or Bigfang or…” and again, she went on and on with names. But this time, she was not repulsed by them. She talked about all those monsters as you would talk about your friends. She liked them, Vanita thought. And she doesn’t like me… yet. At this, Vanita had to fight with her thoughts, as Annabelle was still busy listing monsters. I don’t want her to like me, she thought. I don’t want her to. Or do I? No, I don’t!
They spent several minutes making lists and arguing with their thoughts, until Annabelle finally asked the great question. Monsters were not bound to keep their names a secret, even with humans, and so, as Annabelle said “What is your name?” it was clear that Vanita would give an honest reply. Excepts he didn’t. “Why don’t you want to tell me?” said the girl. “I don’t want to become your friend,” said Vanita. At that, the girl only made said, “oh.” There was another, long silence.
When it was finally night, Vanita said: “Don’t you want to go to bed now?”
“Technically, I am.”
“I mean the upper side of your bed.”
“So you can haunt my dreams?”
“I guess so.”
“Nice try.” The girl frowned, which Vanita could hardly see in this darkness. “Actually, now that I think of it… it wasn’t so nice of a try. Actually, it was pretty bad. Vlad did more to try to frighten me.”
“Vlad is a much better monster, than me. Or worse, if you want to put it that way.”
“So why did I get you now?”
“Because you’ve overcome every single of our other monsters.”
“Overcome? But I was their friend!” said the girl. “That’s what I mean. You are not supposed to be friends with monsters. They are here to frighten you.”
“What for?”
“Well, for… I don’t know. I suppose they enjoy it.”
“Just like the others?”
“The other monsters?”
“No, of course not. I mean the other kids. They enjoy it, too.”
“I’ve never heard of kids behaving that way,” said Vanita. “Are you sure they are not monsters?” The girl frowned again. “Maybe they are, they seem to be more like monsters than Vlad and the others… except for you.”
“Me? Why me? Everybody tells me that I am the least of a monster.” The girl laughed at that. “Well, obviously you are… but it doesn’t matter to me. You are so nice.”
“So what?”
“I said, you are so nice,” said the girl. “I know what you said! I wondered why it should bother you. Shouldn’t that frighten you much less?” The girl did not respond for a while, than opened her mouth as though she wanted to say something, and changed her mind. She crawled out the slot again and into her bed, and finally slept, although not too well. Vanita tried her best to haunt her dreams, but couldn’t come up with anything original or frightening. Annabelle’s sleep was disturbed, but not ruined.
It was Vanita, who had nightmares. Actually, I should call them daymares, as she slept during Annabelle’s time at school. When her protege returned home, she woke up as a tired, confused mess of a monster.
“Big-Furry-Bat-Thing, whatever your name is, we have to talk,” said the girl as she closed the door behind her. “I don’t care if it isn’t night yet, I’ve got to tell you something until I forget the right words again.” You might have experienced the need to be alone, to think through a dialogue with some other person, or even a monologue you would tell another person. Time to find words for your feelings, which you have never assigned any words, because you didn’t need them before. Well, that was why Annabelle left the space under the bed last night, and she found those words in school.
“They are always so nice to me. So friendly. The teachers, and their parents, and my parents, they all say I’m so kind. But they aren’t. I know what they mean.” She took a break, and a breath. “I wish they would hit me!” she said, and then took another deep breath, in shock over her own words. “Yes, I wish they would hit me, so I could show my bruises!” She began to walk around in her room. “I wish they would insult me, loudly, so I could defend myself, and everyone else would hear, and defend me to. But all they do is saying, ‘oh, Annabelle, you look so pretty today’ and 'Belle, you are so very smart, and doing your schoolwork so well’ and 'Aaaannabelle, what a nice sweater you are wearing, did your grandma make it for you?’ and laugh so very dreadfully when I thank them, and when I tell the teachers, they just tell me I should be happy about the compliment.”
The girl crouched down beside the bed again, and joined Vanita. “And then,” she continued, “when we are alone, they hang me in a tree, but when I show my scratches, they say I wasn’t careful enough, and they would have helped me out of it. And Clarissa always copies my homework, and says I would have copied hers!”
“And the monsters?” asked Vanita. The girl chucked, much too bitterly for a child. “They say 'booooh!’ and make me dream of spiders and spinach.”
“I understand. My name is Vanita,” said the girl’s new monster, and Annabelle slowly nodded (Vanita could not see, but feel it) and crawled out again. The homework went by silently, and so did the obligatory playing with her legos, and then she read a book. Soon afterwards, Annabelle went to bed again, and fell asleep quickly. Vanita haunted her dreams again.
“We will take care of those kids,” she whispered in the child’s dream, “and I will be your friend – as long as you promise, you will pretend to be frightened on next every Thursday – that’s when Prawny will examine every nursery and children’s room, to make sure, every child is afraid of their monster.”
When Annabelle woke up, she smiled and said: “I promise.” From that day on she had a monster as a friend, and made a new friend in school almost every week.