[ WP ] The apocalypse has come . The only survivors : a young child , and the monster under the bed ...

“ Psst, ” he attempted. “ Hey… ” 
 
 “ Are you pretending to be asleep like I am? ” Tim gazed at the ceiling of his room, blue and white with the clouds that he had painted together with his parents. Dad ’ s shoulders were usually steady, but that day they shivered from the rhythm of his bellowing laughter, as he propped Tim up to paint. Tim waved the brush around wildly, making white paint rain down on them both. It was such fun. 
 
 It was getting bright now, the sky outside must be full of colors unlike the blue of the ceiling. Tim wondered if the sky in the room was meant to make him want to go outside where the colors were brighter. 
 
 It was getting bright, and yet no one had come to wake him up. It was the dreaded Monday and he supposedly had school. The night before, he had slept earlier like Mom told him to, but not before brushing his teeth and showing them to his Dad with a wide but fake grin, and mirroring the strange sound that Dad made. It was something like, “ Yeeeeeeeee ”. 
 
 Sometimes, Tim imagined the Sun to be a roaring fireball, boiling with rage as it rose above them all. If the Sun wanted to, perhaps he could drop himself onto Tim and totally flatten him. He imagine the Sun would be really, really hot. He made it a point not to look at the Sun directly like Dad and Mrs. Thomson at school had once said. 
 
 But the Sun rejected that imagery, being silent and steady in its ascent. It didn ’ t seem have a bad temper like Mr. Williams. No birds chirped. No cars honked or alarms went off. No heavy but quick footsteps crunching the fallen leaves. Only the leaves continued to rustle in the breeze. 
 
 “ Hey, it ’ s no use pretending. I know you ’ re there, ” Tim told the monster under his bed. He had named it Mons, for simplicity. Simplicity: he loved the word because it meant one thing but was another. Four syllables, as Dad had said. 
 
 Anyway, Mons was pretty shy for a monster. Tim has never heard him roar or even snore ( unlike Dad ). He never appeared in daylight even though sometimes Tim would catch the coattails of his shadow in the darkest moments of darkest nights, like the time when the street lamp outside his window went poof for the entire night. 
 
 “ Mons, did they forget about us somehow? ” 
 
 The sun made its presence apparent now. The rays shone directly into the room through the glass window, contrasting against the interior of the house, which was unusually dark at this hour. 
 
 “ Mons, stop pretending. Let ’ s go exploring and see what happened? ” The sentence began full of resolve but ended uncertain, as his own resolve became tinged with uncertainty. 
 
 After an elaborate pause, a grunt came from beneath his bed. Tim grinned widely, but not the fake one with the “ yeeeee ” sound. He was genuinely happy to finally hear the monster who has been with him all this time. 
 
 “ Let ’ s go, Mons! ” 
 
 < to be continued… > 
 
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