Word Count: 211
He giant-stepped up three steps, hopped back down two. Again and again and again as he made his way up the stairs. He was seven years old and hated going to bed.
It took him two hours to get to his room. Sometimes a little bit more. His mom usually gave up, stopped threatening and pleading. His father pretended to ignore the whole thing.
He had tried to tell them about the monster who lived in there but they usually just laughed it away. Sometimes got serious, looked into his eyes, and explained that monsters weren’t real. That he was a big boy and if there really were monsters, they wouldn’t be bothering him.
For a year it went on, a game scary to him, a full blown annoyance to his mom more than his dad. Then his brother outgrew the crib in their room and a bed was moved in next to his in the room.
That’s all it took, it made him feel better to have little Nick in his room. Now all he need do was wait a few minutes after his brother was upstairs, tucked in and asleep. For the monster, he knew, having feasted on brains, would be contentedly full and asleep by then too.
