Prologue:
Bury My Lovely
August 11, 1980
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I was four years old when I first encountered the monster under the bed.
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In those days, the lines between dreams and reality blurred indistinguishably, and I crossed the threshold of sleep with the grace and mastery of someone born to it. I manifested my fantasies as they bubbled to the surface of my thoughts, and I shaped fantastical visions as effortlessly as I breathed. My dream life was a series of epic adventures: I hosted tea parties in a technicolor glen. I basked on diamond-dusted beaches beneath a kaleidoscope of stars. And I soared on the back of my lion companion, wind twisting my hair into knots as we explored fantastical kingdoms and wild, unsettled lands.
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Awake, there were fewer wild escapades, but in the company of my aunt, there was a great deal of love. She welcomed me into her home and settled me into a cozy bedroom with a sloped ceiling and a little window seat, perfect for a young daydreamer. By day, we embarked on mundane yet delightful adventures within our neighborhood. Each evening, we explored new worlds through the pages of her library of books.
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Alas, our utopia was shattered one afternoon during a family visit. Entrusted to my older cousins, we ventured to the neighborhood playground, and after a failed attempt to find any trouble worth having, we sat together on the merry-go-round. As twilight descended, my cousins took turns telling urban legends and ghost stories. They laughed as my eyes grew round and placed bets on who would scare me the most. By the time we returned home, my face was dirty with tears, and, for the first time in my young life, I was afraid of what I might find in the shadows.
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​When I stepped into the dream realms that night, I was not met with the usual vibrant skies and happy companions. Instead, only enough moonlight peeked through the tree canopy to cast menacing shadows. As I gazed about me in confusion, a chilling rattle and slithery hiss captured my attention. I trained my eyes to the dim light and caught a fleeting glimpse of a tentacled arm as it slid behind a decaying stump.
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“Hello?” I whispered, but my new friend didn’t respond.
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The darkness grew oppressively heavy. Shadows elongated across the forest floor and sprouted vicious claws that reached for me. Startled, I scrambled back to a moonlit clearing, comforted by the dim light streaming in from the sky above. As the minutes crept by, I strained my ears to hear the quieter sounds of the forest and was rewarded with rustles as something moved through the tree canopy. Fainter still, I could make out the tiniest whispers as tentacled arms slithered across branches and a soft thud as something jumped to the ground. I followed the sounds with my ears, squinting my eyes into the dark as something began to circle me in the shadows beyond.
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“Stop.” I squeaked, my voice reedy, my throat so tight I could barely choke out a sound. “Stop! It’s not funny!”
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The only response was a low, rumbling snarl and the rhythmic thud of enormous feet pounding the ground. The branches of nearby trees crashed and snapped as a dark shape burst from the tree line and leaped toward me. In a suspended heartbeat, it hovered in the air. Its eyes were endless black pits, its gnarled forelegs ended in sharp claws, and a halo of tentacles lashed the air.
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Squeezing my eyes shut, I willed myself home to the safety of my bedroom. I pictured the shelves lined with picture books and wooden toys. Above my headboard, a hand-painted mural of flowers spelled out my name. Standing beside my bed was my aunt, who smelled like summer breezes and whose smile radiated sunshine.
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And just like that, there I was: safe in my bed with my aunt’s loving face hovering over me. Her golden curls picked up gleaming highlights as the lamp in the hallway shone in through my bedroom door.
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“Heather, honey, wake up. You’re dreaming,” she murmured. Her hand cupped my cheek as I awoke and peered into her face. She had been worried, but the slight frown smoothed into a reassuring smile as my eyes settled on her. “It was just a dream.”
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A creak from my bed frame and a heave of my mattress shattered the gentle peace in her eyes. Surprise flashed across her face as her gaze dropped to the floor, and she stammered, “What in the world!?” Her mouth formed a silent gasp, lips parting in horror, as her eyes rounded in shock.
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From my pillow, I watched with rising fear as a sinuous tentacle whipped around her waist. Another snaked around her neck from the darkness behind her. The next moment, she vanished from view. A heavy thud preceded a choked gurgle and the wet sound of something sliding across the floor.
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I snapped my head around as something cold grazed my cheek and watched as a tentacle slithered over the edge of my mattress. Another wrapped around my wrist as I closed my eyes, still wet with tears from the nightmare encounter.
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My voice was a thin whisper as I choked out, “No…”
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In my mind's eye, I conjured a vision of the hero I knew would never forsake me. I envisioned my aunt as a dark silhouette; her hair capturing a halo of amber light that spilled in through my bedroom door. She shone like a beacon of hope. Her pure heart would swallow the darkness lurking beneath the bed, and she would drive it from this world.
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It unfolded as I imagined it. My aunt rose from the floor, a dark shadow against the hallway’s glow. Around her, the monster’s tentacles lashed the air, but she radiated quiet confidence as she held out her arms as if to offer an embrace. Just as I knew it would, the monster disappeared; disintegrating into black smoke that collapsed into her silhouette with a loud rush of air.
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My ears popped with great force as the air pressure dropped, but as I pressed my palms against them, the room grew still. The unnatural darkness had fled, and as I relaxed my hands from my ears, I found all was quiet. Everything in the sanctuary of my childhood bedroom was in its rightful place; as if we had never been visited by the monster at all.
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With trembling arms, I reached for the comfort of my aunt. Yet as she stepped out from the shadows and leaned closer, she brushed my arms away. Her face loomed inches from mine, and I felt her breath like ice, pricking my cheeks. My gaze followed a thin rivulet of blood from a dark wound in her hairline as it trickled down her cheek, dropped from her chin, and stained my white coverlet.
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A rattling exhale broke my trance, and my eyes snapped to hers in alarm. The tender eyes I cherished had transformed into steely flints of cold indifference. She raised her nose in a motion more akin to a dog, and her nostrils flared as she inhaled my scent. Her eyes closed, and her brows drew together in contemplation. Despite her odd behavior, I waited for the explanation and assurances I knew would surely come.
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When at last she broke the silence, her voice was a stranger’s rasp, “What kind of abomination are you, child?”
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My vision blurred as tears filled my eyes. As I bit back my sobs, the woman withdrew, lips curled in displeasure and disgust. Such a simple gesture but inconsequential things can shatter a delicate heart. I felt her rejection like a blow, and in defiance, I resolved to respond in kind.
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“Go. Away.” My voice was steady with determination as I willed her gone. But I was well past the threshold of sleep now, and the waking world was far less compliant than the world of dreams.
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She remained motionless, her expression hidden in the shadows she had withdrawn to. “Very well. I thought you must be responsible, but it’s clear you’re nothing but a squalling brat.”
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With that, she passed through my bedroom door, and as she closed it behind her with a soft click, my bedroom was cast into darkness. That was the last I ever saw of her.
