Pip Thoreau's Life As a Peculiar Teen

As Told By Aaron Thoreau

Tired, bespectacled eyes scanned the computer screen again, looking for mistakes in the coding.  There were none. He knew this. He practically spoke binary code. Aaron groaned, rubbing a hand over his stubbly face.

The clock on the wall chimed five times. Confused, he looked up. Early sunlight was beginning to pour through the window. Aaron sighed. He had worked through the night again.

Standing up for the first time, Aaron stood up and stretched. His slumped shoulders protested painfully as he rubbed life back into the muscles.  The man let out a sigh. Nothing to distract him now. Time for bed.

A loud zap startled him out of his tired daze.  Loud clamoring echoed through the silent house from the kitchen. Cautiously, Aaron crept towards to the source of the noise.

He finds himself stepping on a heating unit lying on the tile floor. He also finds a rouge circuit board and an on/off switch that he collects.  Various other parts were scattered on the kitchen table.

Unsurprisingly, his five year old son was at the center of the mess. He sat at the table, concentrating on the partially dismantled toaster before him with a too large flat blade screwdriver in his hand. He took the lever out of the toaster and held it to his face like it was a treasure.

 Aaron smiled at his son. Times like this, Pip reminded him of himself. He was so curious about everything, so hungry for knowledge. Sure, he lost a few appliances, and he sure wouldn't be eating toast tomorrow, but he himself had built his computer from scraps. He couldn't bring himself to stop his son.

... However, the toaster was still plugged in. Aaron almost had a heart attack, rushing to unplug the dismantled machine. Pip laughed, his fiery red hair stood on end in a unnaturally frizzy cloud, but he seemed alright. Aaron sighed in relief.

"Pip, why are you dismantling the toaster at five A.M.? I put you to bed eleven hours ago." Aaron stifled a laugh. When he became a parent, he never thought he'd be saying these words. It was almost statistically impossible, yet here he was.

"Couldn't sleep....Shadows...growling.." Pip mumbled not looking up from the ruined toaster. Aaron's blood ran cold.

"H-How about we go watch television now that we're both up? We can go buy another toaster tomorrow." He thanked the universe that today was Saturday. Neither of them had to be anywhere soon. 

Pip lit up in excitement. He raced to the living room rattling on about a commercial he found for a toaster he watched to take apart. Aaron took this time to gather up the toaster's remains, though it did nothing to settle the dread in his stomach.

Aaron liked to think he was a logical man. He knew the difference between fact and fantasy. He could list all the reasons why his fear wasn't at all rational.

All Aaron's life, he had been haunted by horrible shadows of beasts with writhing tentacles and horrible growls. They seemed to stalk him as if considering whether he was worth the energy to pounce on or not.  They were worse at night, getting so close Aaron thought he would be eaten in seconds: however irrational, it seems. Sleep became nearly impossible.

Four weeks ago, his son first mentioned these shadows, and Aaron wanted to cry. He had to passed his stupid fear of shadows onto his son.

It had been so much better when Pip's mother was around. Monica's very presence seemed to repel his shadow stalkers. He'd still see them, but they seemed to disregard him entirely.

However, that was the only thing that interested Aaron about Monica, and she quickly figured out how he felt. A year into their relationship, she left him with a newborn, and he never saw her again.

He can't say he regrets how things ended up though.

Pip's head poked through the kitchen entrance.

"Come on, dad, you're gonna miss the commercial!" He let himself be pulled in front of the television with a small smile on his face.