Freddie sat in the corner of his bedroom. It was time to sleep. The only way he could fall asleep was by performing the nightly ritual. Arranged on the carpet before him were several sheets of paper tightly rolled together, a box of matches and a large purple candle.
There were monsters to catch. They lived between the lines of existence, hidden to all but the unlucky few. To let them catch you was to lose the freedom of your own thoughts. To keep them out required mental construction and physical prowess.
To begin the ritual, Freddie pictured in his mind’s eye a moored ship, like that of a pirate, with masts, sails and cannons.
He struck a match and held the flame to the candle wick. The candle burst into life and sprayed a purple tint upon the walls. In this light alone could any monster be seen, unnatural forms fluorescing in unearthly flickering. Freddie grabbed the roll of paper, scrambled to his feet and placed his back against the wall, peering carefully at each corner of the room in turn, looking for sign of movement.
In his head, the moored ship swayed gently in the wind. He sat on the deck, listening for the creaking of wood and rope. There! At the far end!
From behind the wardrobe came tentacles. They stuck to the wall and pulled along a large, quivering body, crowned with a yellow eye that swivelled in all directions.
To be continued…