[ WP ] Monsters under the bed are real and the only protection from them is teddy bears , you are a retired bear telling one of your stories .

I ’ m not the oldest Teddy Bear still alive, but I am still so very old. My father was one of the founding members of the Night Brigade. I of course, bright eyed and tight stitched, followed in his footsteps at a young age. The decades of fighting Night Terrors show in the finely stitched scars, the lost stuffing and missing eye. I ’ ve done my duty protecting humans many times over and paid a heavy price for it. 
 
 Every time I walk through the front door to the cheers of my grandcubs, several generations great, I am reminded of why it was all worth it. They gather in circles around me, begging me for stories and fighting pretend monsters with pretend claws. Of late, I often find myself wasting entire days with the cubs, my smile as wide as theirs. 
 
 Today is one such day and the cubs sit excitedly at my feet, each one pointing at a scar, calling for me to tell the story of how I got it. One particular cub catches my attention, however. She sits quietly in the back, not calling out like the others but focused intently on me. She is the only girl in the entire sloth of cubs. 
 
 I watch her, letting the rest of the younglings continue to make noise. Moments pass and still she says nothing as the boys slowly quiet down one by one. When the room has fallen silent, she meets my gaze and in a soft but steady voice she asks “ Please tell us how you lost the eye? ” 
 
 It ’ s a gruesome tale, one in which I would not ordinarily tell to cubs not even old enough to have names. Still, there ’ s something unique about the way she looks at me. Strong eyes, yet curious and respectful, plead with me to tell my story. I nod once, decided, and begin to speak of history. 

