[ WP ] the monster in the closet finally lures the child into the darkness , only to realize something is very very wrong

I know, I know, I should be stronger. They tell us to feed off of their fear, not to get too close. After all, if one of us gets discovered while we're up in the World, we might as well just send them an invitation to end us. 
 
 But I've heard whispers about this new way of doing things. Stories about those who go further. Who take one of the Worldies. 
 
 It's said that you bulk up, like, crazy huge. It's said that you'll boost your innate power level, which, for a level 1 like myself, is like manna from the heavens. Become a demon, First Class, in one easy step! Fifth Circle demons hate him! 
 
 Besides, it's just one kid. How bad can it be? 
 
 I'll choose the wimpiest, scardy-cat-est kid on my rounds and I'll strike before anyone is looking. 
 
 And then they'll see who's the Big Bad Monster on the block. Even Grashopnid, who thinks that just because he's made of a giant undulating smokey mass of slime-covered tentacles, it somehow makes him better than the rest of us! 
 
 Finding my mark was n't hard. Only child. Latchkey kid. Mom works late at the hospital and ca n't pay for a babysitter, so she just locks him in after putting him to bed and prays that it's enough. Dad is gone, but who fucking cares where he went? If I had to learn the tragic backstory of every meal I ever had, I'd starve to death before it was finished. 
 
 The kid is dark-skinned, hair shaved so close to his scalp that it makes him look bald and he probably gets teased about it at school. He's scrawny with knobby knees and wears thick-framed spectacles with those stupid fabric neck attacher things so his glasses wo n't fall on the ground if they slip off his face. I only see them because they're the glow-in-the-dark kind. Guess his mom thinks that springing an extra couple of bucks for gimmicky bullshit will make up for the fact that he's all alone, without even a nightlight. 
 
 He's in bed, shivering under five blankets. I guess his mom does n't have enough money for the heating bill again. I've been feeding off of his misery and pain for many years, now. It's quite delicious, really. 
 
 But tonight, I promise myself, tonight I'm going to do it. I'm going to take him and eat him and show fucking Grashopnid and Latovakk that I'm twice the monster that they are! 
 
 Besides, he's just an ugly black kid living in poverty. I've done my research. No one's going to miss him. 
 
 To start the evening out, I make sure the door to the closet is quite squeaky before I start my work. I creak the door open slightly, then wait five minutes. Then the door squeaks open a bit more. Then it closes a bit. By the time I've got it open more than enough to slip out, he's got the covers over his head and his tiny brown eyes are snapped wide with fright. 
 
 Good. 
 
 I slip quietly towards the foot of the bed, my many chitinous legs making a beautiful tapping noise on the carpet. The carpet is new, or should I say new to the room. A large square is cut out of it, which has been strategically placed under the bed so it wo n't show. A tiny bit of blood at the side of the cut mark tells me that this is the carpet that was thrown out by the crime scene cleaners down on the third floor after the murder last week. 
 
 Mama went dumpster diving, apparently. 
 
 I did n't do the murder, obviously, but the demon, Fifth Class who orchestrated it got her name in the paper. Really brilliant murder-suicide too. There was a lot of blood. She's got enough power to sprog once she finds the proper mate. Which, considering the declining rate of demons, is a good thing. 
 
 The power I get from the small afterimage of the murderous blood ritual is small, but it fills me with a buzzing excitement. If taking this kid and devouring him will do anything similar, I may just make this a regular occurrence. 
 
 I chuckle to myself as I coil under his bed, the subdued alien screech of my voice ( which I am very proud of ) resulting in a horrible fearful moan coming from the bed. 
 
 Well, it's horrible for him, at least. 
 
 His fear washes over me like a cleansing rain and it drums against my skin, sating my hunger. 
 
 Satisfied, I tap tap tap my way back into the closet and the door slams shut. Normally, this is where our little interactions end. But tonight, it's different. 
 
 `` Child,'' I say loudly, after a long pause where I try to summon the courage to speak, `` Have n't you ever wondered what lies beyond your closet door? A world of candy, of wondrous things.'' 
 
 There's silence from the bed before a tiny, quivering voice replies. 
 
 `` Why now?'' 
 
 ``... er....What do you mean?'' My practised creepy, imposing voice falters. Of all the reactions I expected, this was not what I thought would happen. 
 
 `` You have been scaring me for over five years. Why do you suddenly feel the need to talk to me now?'' 
 
 His voice is still frightful, but somehow it seems a bit stronger now, and I do n't like it one bit. 
 
 `` Silence! You must do as I say!'' I growl, twisting my horn-like protuberances so that they vibrate at the frequency to compel movement. 
 
 There's a rustle of sheets as he pushes them aside and then soft, barefooted footfalls approach my door. His hand touches the knob and I ready myself to strike, grinning at how easily my plan has come together. 
 
 But then he pauses, which he should n't do. 
 
 `` You know,'' he says wistfully, `` I liked you the best, out of all my monsters. But I suppose that even this is n't forever.'' 
 
 Wait... what? 
 
 I forget to use Human English and curse three of the Dark Gods of Consummate Sleep for this utterly awful night. 
 
 His hand twists the knob and something strange twists in my gut. I look down with my gigantic, night-vision eyes and notice that my feet, oh god, my glorious red shelled feet are disappearing! 
 
 And as he opens the door, I catch a glimpse of his big dark eyes as he waves at me, his expression somewhat sad before I feel myself pop out of the World entirely. 
 
 And so, that's why I'm out here in the street with a cardboard sign. I ca n't go back to the World, which means that I'm dependent on your kind donation to stay alive... well... if you call this life. 
 
 And, above all, never believe something just because you read it on the internet. 
 

