The Evil Thing

Chapter 1- Dylan's Closet

THE EVIL THING

CHAPTER 1- DYLAN'S CLOSET

CUDDLED UNDERNEATH THE blankets, Dylan slept. He hugged a money stuffed animal in his arms almost as if he was going to die.

Dylan Brower was about seven years-old and upon his head was a mop of untamable brown hair. His eyes (though closed at the moment) were a shade of light blue.

The sudden howl of the wind awoke him with a start. Eyes wide with fear, Dylan stole a quick glance at the window, where there were shadows of the tree branches along the curtains.

He then looked around his room and finally lay his eyes on his Army action figure. The Army action figure stood on his dresser across the room and next to his closet. Dylan personally didn't enjoy the look he had on his face- but as his older sister often reminded him, it was an action figure. They aren't alive or anything.

Dylan heard a creak from his closet door. The door was once again open, he realized. He had it closed before, but it kept opening again and again....

A growl of some sort sounded from the closet, and once again (for the third time that night) he was frightened.

"Mommy! Daddy!" He called for the third time.

The figure of his mother stumbled into his room, pajamas on and her hair messed up. Dylan thought that she had hastily put on her pajamas, almost as if she had been nude before she came in.

"Dylan. For the fourth time tonight! Go to sleep!"

"It's been the third." He informed her. She rolled her eyes at him.

At that moment, his father tumbled into the room, hair messy and taking the appearance of as if him too had just pulled on his pajamas.

"The fifth time tonight!" He yawned.

"Fourth," his mom said.

"Third!" Dylan informed them all.

"The curtains are now closed," his mom sighed, "what else, Dylan?"

"My action figure. It's staring at me weird."

His father turned his figure so that it's back was facing Dylan.

"There. Happy?"

"But I can't see what he's thinking, daddy!" Dylan cried.

"Fine," his father said as he turned the action figure so his son could only see one side of his face, "better?"

Dylan nodded.

"Mommy, can you stay with me?"

"No, Dylan. Mommy's tired." She said to him, tucking him in.

"Tell you what, if you don't call for us one more time, then I'll get you that Mario game."

"Mario Kart? Alright!"

"John!" his mom whispered.

"Hey, if it'll get the kid to not bother us, then I'll purchase it for him."

His mother sighed, rolled her eyes, but smiled non the less.

"Goodnight." She told her son, kissing him on the head.

"Night kiddo." His father told him.

They exited and shut the door behind them.

Once again, Dyaln could hear the door to his closet creak open only minutes after his parents had left the room.

Gathering up the little amount of bravery that he had, he stalked over to the closet door.

Reluctantly, he put his hand on the door knob and twisted it. He didn't need to.

At that moment, a green hand came out of the closet and grabbed his hand.