A Monster Calls

The monster showed up just after midnight. As they do. Conor was awake when it came.
He’d had a nightmare. Well, not a nightmare. The nightmare.
The one he’d been having a lot lately. The one with the darkness and the wind and the screaming.
The one with the hands slipping from his grasp, no matter how hard he tried to hold on.
The one that always ended with– “Go away,” Conor whispered into the darkness of his bedroom,
trying to push the nightmare back, not let it follow him into the world of waking.
“Go away now.” He glanced over at the clock his mum had put on his bedside table.
12.07. Seven minutes past midnight. Which was late for a school night, late for a Sunday, certainly.
He’d told no one about the nightmare. Not his mum, obviously, but no one else either,
not his dad in their fortnightly (or so) phone call, definitely not his grandma, and no one at school.
Absolutely not. What happened in the nightmare was something no one else ever needed to know.
Conor blinked groggily at his room, then he frowned. There was something he was missing.
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