The Strange Story of...

The Strange Story of Mr. M.

       Max Harding disliked his new house. It was rickety, drafty, and much too small. His wife, Dakota, acted as if it didn't bother her, but he knew it did. But what worried the both of them was their daughter, Tina.

      The Hardings had lived in Lancaster, Pennsylvania ever since Tina was born. They had lived in a large house with a big backyard, nice neighbors, and a good school district for when Tina started school. Max's salary as a herpetologist at the city zoo, and Dakota's salary working full-time at the local library, was enough that they lived a comfortable life. But, when he was let go, he and Dakota were forced to pack up everything and move to Maine, where Max had received an offer to teach herpetology at a university. The pay wasn't the best, and they could only afford a tiny bungalow. Dakota got a job working at their local library, so they got by, despite the big changes. The biggest change, however, was with Tina.

    Tina had always been a quiet little girl. Quiet, yet imaginative. She was constantly making up a game or story for herself, and once went through a phase when she pretended to be a cat for a week straight. Since both parents worked, they often hired a babysitter to watch Tina. Tina complained that the babysitter didn't play with her enough, but they ignored her, saying that she shouldn't complain. However, once they'd moved, she'd started talking about an imaginary friend she called Mr. M. 

     According to their daughter, Mr. M was a thin, tall, very hairy lion with a number of tentacles and a big rhino's horn. When Max asked her if Mr. M was an imaginary friend, she had said no, and that he only visited her at night by coming through the closet.

     Max and Dakota had thought that she was only dreaming about a large creature coming out of her closet, but then, strange things began happening. First, Max would sometimes hear Tina laughing in her room long past her bedtime, then walk into her room to find the closet door wide open and her toys, especially her board games, scattered around the room. Tina would say that Mr. M had just left. Sometimes, they would find food missing from the refrigerator, such as leftovers from dinner, and then find food stains on Tina's closet door, with their daughter stating that she'd been hungry, and that Mr. M had gotten her food. But the most disturbing was one night during a thunderstorm, when Dakota had gone to check on Tina, who'd always been scared of storms. She found Tina hiding in the closet, holding a flashlight and calling for Mr. M.

     The worried parents began taking Tina to a child psychologist, wondering if moving had somehow had a negative effect on her mental state. The psychologist, a woman named Dr. Eva N. Dish, said that Tina's mental state was fine. "Most likely, this 'Mr. M' is just an imaginary friend."

     "But what about the food stains, and hiding in the closet?" Dakota had asked.

     "She could be sleepwalking and doing those things without knowing it. Our imaginations can be very powerful things, even more so in children. If she has no brothers or sisters and hasn't made any close friends at school, then it's very possible that she has simply created an imaginary person to play with her. My recommendation? Spend more time with her, and encourage her to make friends at school. Make it clear that she doesn't need to create someone when there are real people who want to play with her."

     They took Dr. Dish's advice, and began stressing the importance of making friends with their daughter. While Tina did make a few friends, none of them wanted to come over to her house. Her parents wondered why until Dakota got a call from the school psychologist. Apparently Tina had told the children in her class that her best friend was a monster who lived in her closet.

      Finally, Max and Dakota sat Tina down to talk.

   "Baby," Max started, sitting on the couch across from Tina, who sat in a little wooden chair, "you know that Mommy and I love you very much. And we only want what's best for you. That includes having friends."

   "I have friends, Daddy," Tina responded, "We play hopscotch at recess."

   "That's good, sweetie," Dakota said, "but what we don't understand is why no one wants to come over to play."

    Tina giggled. "They all think Mr. M is a scary monster."

  "But why do they all know about Mr. M?" Max pressed. He checked his watch. He needed to leave soon.

  "I told them at Sharing Time. The teacher said, 'Who is your best friend?' and I said 'Mr. M'. And she said, 'Who is Mr. M?' and I said, 'Mr. M is the monster who lives in my closet.'"

  Max and Dakota looked at each other, then they looked back at Tina.

  "Honey," Max said, "Mr. M isn't real. He's your imaginary friend, and he doesn't live in your closet. So it's time to stop taking food at night and blaming it and other things on Mr. M, and--"

  Tina started crying. Dakota took his wrist and squeezed it. He looked at her. What did I do?, he mouthed at her. 

    Tina got off the chair and ran to her room, slamming the door. Dakota gave him an icy gaze, then walked slowly towards Tina's room. Max followed. When the two got to her room, they heard Tina pounding on the closet door.

    "Mr. M! Please, Mr. M!"

    Max lightly rapped his knuckles on the door.

    "Tina?" he called. Nothing. They heard the closet door open, then shut. They looked at each other again, then Dakota turned the knob. The door wouldn't open. Max tried, with the same result.

    "Tina, open the door!" Dakota called, not at all gently.

  Tina didn't respond. Max turned the knob, then rammed his shoulder into the door. It gave away, and the couple walked into the room. Tina's wooden rocking chair had been pushed against the door, and laid on the floor. Tina herself, however, was not in the room.

   "She's probably hiding in the closet again," Dakota said, and opened the closet door. And gasped. Max rushed to her side, and stood in a shocked stupor.

    Tina was not in the closet, but a note was taped to the wall. It was written on paper that looked like it had been taken from a notebook, but the print was straight and formal, like something typed. It said:

     To the parents of Katarina Harding,

      You call yourselves parents? If a child says she did not do something, believe her! She was not lying when she said I was visiting her in the night; she was lonely and I served as a playmate. I was responsible for the open closet door, for Katarina's closet (or Tina, as you call her) is the entrance to my home. The mess in her room was my doing, as well. She is quite fond of games such as checkers and domino tracks. You'd know that if you bothered to spend time with her. As for the food that continues to disappear from your refrigerator, I am responsible for that as well. I take only the food that you don't eat, what you call 'leftovers'. It is your fault that your daughter grows hungry in the night; I simply give her the food you conveniently forget that she needs at dinner. And the night you found her in the closet was also my doing. A child needs comforting when she is frightened of a storm, and I was giving your frightened child the comfort she needed. The fact that you failed to comfort her is inexcusable. And now, you lecture her for not making friends? That is, as you would say, the last straw. Katarina wishes to stay with me, a wish I will now grant. She will receive attention, nourishment, comfort, everything you were failing to give her.

                                                                                                                                     Sincerely,

                                                                                                                                           Mr. M

      A postscript: Your child wishes to inform you that, should you learn to be better parents, she would consider returning.