“Growing Up”, a Siskiyou Writers’ Club Short Story

At its October meeting, the Siskiyou Writers Club selected Robin Roberts’ story, “Growing Up,” as its selection for the month.

By Robin Roberts

     I stand, fingers clutching the cellar doorknob while a hole the size of a balloon grows inside my belly. I can't move. "But Mom, there's spiders down there."

     Mom is at the sink, her hands up to her elbows in sudsy water. "There probably are, Sally. But I promise, if you stay away from them, they'll stay away from you."

     "But---there might be monsters, too."

     Mom's eyebrows squeeze together as she shakes her head. "You're ten now. Too old for monsters. If you want your skates, just go down and get them."

     "Can't you go with me?" The knob in my hand grows slick with sweat as every part of me wills her to dry her hands and help me.

     "I'm doing the dishes now. And honestly, there's nothing in the cellar but the things we have in storage. You've gone down there before and haven't had a problem."

     She doesn't know that the monsters who live in the cellar only eat little girls. I've managed, all this time, to never go down there alone. As long as someone's with me, I'm safe. But by myself...the four-eyed beast would get me, bite my flesh---suck my blood and maybe do all that while I'm still alive to feel it. No, I can't go down.

     Then again, I once was sure there were monsters in my closet---and later under my bed. Both times, Mom proved me wrong. Should I believe her now? She says I'm too old, right? Maybe too old for monsters who only eat little girls.

     I have to go if I want my skates.

     Which I do.

     My friends wait outside for me, and I'm taking too long. Time to grow up. I am ten after all.

     "Okay, Mom. But if I die, it's all your fault." I turn the knob.

     Steps squeak beneath my size five Converse shoes. The single bulb swings when I pull the chain. Shadows leap along with the light and quiver in every corner.

     "Bang!" The door behind me slams. A wave of cold dread starts at my feet and rises. I turn back. Toward the door. To Mom.

     The light goes out.

     My feet slip. I turn as I fall, hands grabbing for something to hold along the tops of smooth wooden stairs. My butt bangs down steps. Bump. Bump. Bump.

     I curl at the bottom. Muscles ache. All around me spins a black-on-black nightmare. I open my mouth to shout, "Mom! Help!"

     But the words rise to a shriek as something grabs my t-shirt.

     The monster's got me. I twist. Claw at it. It's warm and strong and moans as my nails dig in. It pulls my shirt over my arms pinning them against me. I fight to keep the cloth from covering my head. "No, No. Mom! Help me!"

     A voice, hoarse and low, speaks inches from my ear. "No one can save you now."

     My thoughts reel and I whimper. "I'm too big. I won't taste like a little girl."

     To which the monster laughs.

     It's heavy and holds me down, my hands are trapped along my sides as I gaze up at the glowing crack below the door to the kitchen, only one flight of stairs away. Why can't Mom hear me?

     I sense the monster bend toward my exposed belly, it's sharp fangs drip saliva as it prepares to bite. Not that I can see it. The cellar window is dusty dark despite the daylight outside---the glass caked with mud.

     Teeth click as the monster's warm breath flutters across my skin. It'll rip me open. Sure, as day, I'll be eaten.

     I sob. There's too much I want to do. The Halloween party at school, trick or treating with my friends, not to mention the rest of my life. I'm too young to die.

     Above me, light floods the stairs as the basement door slams open. Inches from my face, red eyes glow, fangs flash yellow, and wolflike hair covers the monster's face. Its bloody claws come for me. Only, as I wait for death, the fur smooths into normal cheeks, round eyes and a laughing grin.

     Above me, mom shouts down the stairs, "Rory, leave your sister alone."

The Siskiyou Writers Club is open to folks with a passion for creative writing of all genres. We generally meet the last Thursday of the month in various locations throughout Siskiyou County.
You are welcome to join us. Because the last Thursday of November will be Thanksgiving, our next meeting will be Thursday, November 21, 2024, 5:00 PM, at the YMCA in Yreka.

For more information about the club
contact:
Bob Kaster @ 530-598-5204
or
Mike Grifantini @ 530-710-4882