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Looking for Monsters

War through the eyes of a child.

By Charlie C. Published 3 years ago 8 min read
1

George watched the rain melt the world beyond his bedroom window. With every droplet smearing down the glass, the countryside became more alien.

Clutching Tig, his stuffed tiger, he wondered if it was raining where his mum and dad were. He missed them. He missed the big towers and the loud noises of London. He even missed his cranky teacher, Mrs Trenchard, and Rodney Crompton, who used to kick him under the table at school and who’d gone on a boat to Australia.

George wished he’d gone to Australia. More, he wished his parents were with him. But his dad was fighting the Nasty Men in France, and his mum was still in London. George had wanted to go to France to help his dad, and his mum had started crying when he’d said that.

Movement in the rain made him flinch. He clutched Tig tight. Elsewhere in the house, Aunt Maggie, who he’d never met before coming here, hummed along to the radio. She couldn’t help him. She couldn’t see the monsters like he could.

More movement through the dribbling raindrops. George made himself stay at the window, to show the monsters he wasn’t scared, even if they’d followed him all the way from London to the countryside.

“George,” said Aunt Maggie, sweeping into his room, “we have to turn the lights off soon. It’ll be dark.”

“But the monsters get in when it’s dark,” said George.

Aunt Maggie smiled, but she didn’t understand. Only his mum and dad saw the monsters like he did. Even Rodney, who said he knew everything, didn’t see them, and he’d laughed at George when he’d told him.

“No such thing as monsters, stupid,” he’d said.

But then George had heard his mum calling the Nasty Men monsters, and that’d been when she’d been talking with his dad, thinking George wouldn’t hear. Not long after, they started putting up pictures of the Nasty Men around London so people knew what the monsters looked like.

The lights went out. Aunt Maggie passed by as a shadow, pulling the heavy curtains across his window. He still heard the rain tapping on the glass, or it could’ve been the monsters tapping their fingers.

“Time to go to sleep, George,” said Aunt Maggie.

“Not tired,” mumbled George. “Need to look out for monsters.”

“I know,” she said, in her strained-patience voice. “But, George, it’s…” She trailed off, her eyes going wide and her mouth staying open.

George heard it too. A low rumble building, going across the sky. It got louder and louder, and he clamped his hands to his ears, crying. Aunt Maggie swooped down on him, hugging him to her.

The rumble began to fade. Slowly, Aunt Maggie released him, and he wiped at his tears.

“I wish my mum and dad were here.”

“I-”

Another sound, even louder ripped away her voice. It punched into George’s ears, and he dropped to the floor, crying again. He couldn’t even hear himself. Aunt Maggie had fallen down next to him, looking even more scared. Which scared him because adults were never really scared.

For the rest of the night, they stayed curled up on the floor of his room. He must’ve slept, but Aunt Maggie didn’t, because she was sitting in the same place with her eyes open when he woke up.

His ears ached. Aunt Maggie smiled when she saw he was awake, and went down to make them breakfast. Her hands shook, and she spilled some milk on the table. When George pointed it out, she laughed.

A picture of Aunt Maggie’s husband was on the wall above them. He wore the same uniform George’s dad had worn when he went off to beat up the Nasty Men. Aunt Maggie sometimes forgot to listen to George and stared at the picture.

Aunt Maggie took him for a walk around their garden like she did most mornings. George scanned the trees for any sign of the monsters, and Aunt Maggie let him run over to check. Birds flew away from him and he heard grasshoppers chirping. The monsters had hidden their tracks though.

They walked to the next field, then Aunt Maggie stopped. “We should go home now, George.”

“But we haven’t said good morning to Mrs Bollard.” Mrs Bollard was Aunt Maggie’s neighbour. She had a cat and always gave George a chocolate bar when they walked by.

Aunt Maggie steered him around, but he struggled past. She tried to call to him. He stopped a few steps past her, staring at Mrs Bollard’s house.

He could see the inside of it. The walls and roof had been ripped away on one side, and all her things were broken up around it. He saw Mrs Bollard lying in the grass. He went to go wake her up, but Aunt Maggie grabbed him.

“Come on, George,” she said, pulling him along.

“It was the monsters,” he said.

“Yes, yes,” said Aunt Maggie, and she was crying again.

Which was why they shouldn’t turn the lights off, he decided.

Aunt Maggie spent the rest of the day by her radio. Before she listened to the songs in the afternoon, she listened to a croaky voice telling stories about other countries. Sometimes they mentioned France, and George asked why the voice didn’t talk about his dad being there. But Aunt Maggie never spoke much when she listened to the voice. Instead, she shushed him or made him solve maths questions she’d made up.

That night, Aunt Maggie ordered him to brush his teeth and go to bed early. She turned the lights off while he was still looking out the window. Without the rain, he had a better view of the trees and the fields.

“Come on, George, bedtime.”

“But the monsters might come for us,” he said.

Aunt Maggie sighed and walked away. He felt bad about making her upset, so he decided he’d go to bed in a minute.

Something moved outside the window. George leant close. Small and brown, it crawled closer and closer.

George went to hide under his covers. A scratching came at the glass, and, when he looked out, he saw Mrs Bollard’s cat, Maisie, at the window.

Smiling, he scrambled out of bed. At the same time, the noise came from the sky again, getting louder. Maisie darted away into the grass again. George threw himself back into bed, pulling the covers over to hide from the noise.

The huge noise didn’t come that night. George managed to sleep well, only jolting awake when sunlight slanted through his window. Aunt Maggie came in, frowning.

“George, you can’t leave the window open like that,” she said, but restrained herself from saying more.

They went to eat breakfast. Halfway through, there was a knock at the door. Aunt Maggie jumped to answer it. She staggered back in with the telegram wrinkled in his hands, and George stopped eating. With a sniff, Aunt Maggie, threw herself into her chair again, sobbing into her arms. George hugged her, but she didn’t stop crying.

He hugged her for a long time before one of her hands patted him on the arm. She lifted her blotchy face, smiling even though she was sad.

“Why don’t you go play with your toys, George? No… No lessons today.”

“Thanks, Aunt Maggie,” he said, leaving her.

As soon as he was on the stairs, he heard her crying again. But she’d told him to go upstairs, so he didn’t go back to her.

There was no voice from the radio that day. There was no music in the afternoon. All he heard as he played and looked out the window was Aunt Maggie’s sobbing.

As night came, George waited by the window again. Aunt Maggie was still downstairs, at the table, crying. She hadn’t turned the lights off yet. This was his chance to catch the monsters and scare them back.

But, as the evening went on, he heard Aunt Maggie move about. She came into his room, turning the lights off and dragging the curtains across the window. She did everything slowly and uncertainly. But she brought him a bowl of soup. He didn’t like soup, and it was cold too, but he ate it.

She told him to brush his teeth and get to bed, then left him alone. George waited, listening to her move around downstairs. Then she climbed the stairs and stomped into her own room. He heard the door shut and her bed creak. She cried again.

George tiptoed from his bed, switching on his room’s light. The glow made him wince in the dark. He grabbed at the curtain, just as a familiar rumble filled the air.

The monsters, he was sure.

He tore the curtain open triumphantly. Nothing moved in the fields or the trees. George pressed himself against the window, frowning out.

The rumble grew closer, and he spotted something moving against the black sky.

“The monsters fly!” he shouted.

The rumble deepened as the flying thing soared over the house. At the same time, the door flew open, and Aunt Maggie stood there, eyes wild.

“George, shut the window-”

There was a moment of pure silence. George blinked, then the world became fire and he heard a noise so loud it made him want to cry. And then all was silent again.

Historical
1

About the Creator

Charlie C.

Attempted writer.

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