First, a reminder that I'm over at
Aubrie Dionne's blog today. We had a fun talk! Please stop by and say hello.
My monster came a little later in my childhood. From a really young age, I've always had a fascination with the supernatural. I was never afraid of ghosts or the dark. I never needed a nightlight. I grew up beside a cemetery and it was my favorite playground. When I was a teenager, I'd sleep with my window wide open - even in the winter - with the hope that a vampire would fly in from the graveyard and bite me!
I had a captain's bed growing up, so there was never room for a monster to hide under it. I never thought about closet monsters until I was ten and picked up Stephen King's Cujo. I've always been mature for my age. This was the first King book I picked up, and he nabbed me within the first few pages.
No, it wasn't the dog that scared me. I actually felt sorry for Cujo. It was the monster in Tad's closet that chilled me to the bone. It wasn't the stereotypical growl and drool I'm-going-to-eat monster. It talked, and it was intelligent. That made it super creepy. To top it off, I was home alone after school when I started to read the book. I was sitting in the living room in the big chair, one of my favorite reading spots. As I read about this monster, the basement door slowly creaked open. Logically, I knew it was probably because I didn't shut it properly when I put in the laundry downstairs. But all I could think about was this monster. A smart and evil beast. Dumb ones I might be able to trick, but this was no ordinary creature. I sat in the chair frozen, unable to move, until my father and brother came home about twenty minutes later.
I couldn't sleep that night. My room was tiny, only six by eight. The foot of my captain's bed was very near the closet. I piled my stuffed animals around me and kept the lamp on all night. I swear I could hear the monster chuckling from behind the closed sliding doors of my closet.
Of course, though the monster was smart, I was a clever kid. The next morning, I removed my closet doors. No closet, no monster. The remedy was as simple as that.
I guess my idea inspired other children in the neighborhood as well. My little brother removed his closet doors that week and so did half a dozen other neighbor kids. Closet doors are good for building forts!
Stephen King remains one of my biggest inspirations.
