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Jack couldn’t believe his luck. This was the latest he’d ever stayed up, and the grown-ups didn’t seem to have noticed his yawns, since he hadn’t been sent to bed yet. He was perched on a log in front of the campfire, listening intently.
“… and now he wanders the woods, swinging his axe at all who dare to come near.”
Jack thought Uncle’s story had been pretty scary, but everyone else started laughing.
“Really? Again? Been tellin’ that one since I was younger’n Lenny here.”
Arthur’s exasperation was met with agreement from around the fire. Uncle crossed his arms over his chest.
“Think you can do better? I challenge any man here to tell a more terrifying tale!”
They went around the circle, each trying to top the others, and that was how Jack learned about sasquatches that ate babies, ghosts that lurked in swamps, and zombies that wouldn’t stay dead. Whenever he started to get too scared, he would inch closer to his pa, the scent of whiskey and leather a reminder that his protector was close by. He was nearly in John’s lap by the time Abigail came back from a scouting mission with Karen.
“John Marston, what is that boy doing up and awake?”
John wrapped an arm around Jack’s tiny shoulders.
“Growing boy can stay up a little, Abigail. Havin’ too much fun to go to bed, wasn’t you, Jack?”
Jack nodded eagerly, but it didn’t stop his mother from scooping him up to bring him to their lean-to. He felt her sigh as she looked back to John.
“Thanks for lookin’ out for him, just make sure he makes it to bed at a reasonable hour next time, alright?”
“Alright.”
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John had no idea what time it was when the flap to his tent was pulled forcefully open. His hand was halfway to his knife before he recognized the figure in the darkness.
“Abigail? What the hell?”
She strode in and plopped Jack down onto the cot.
“Your boy’s havin’ nightmares. Wonder why that might be, hmm?”
“Abi, I-“
“No need for excuses. But it ain’t gonna be my problem. You thought this was a good idea, you deal with it now.”
She was gone before he could reply.
“You okay, kid?”
Jack sniffled.
“I was having bad dreams.”
John pulled Jack closer and tucked his blanket around both of them.
“You don’t gotta worry now. I’m here. Besides, those stories ain’t real. No such thing as ghosts or vampires or any of that. People just make it up.”
“Really?”
“Yep. Whatever they’re scared of, they just make it a monster.”
Jack thought for a moment.
“Has anybody made up a scary story about a grouchy mama monster yet?”
“Don’t think so, but I reckon you’re gonna write a good one.”