A teddy-bear shaped lamp spread soft light across a part of his bedroom. Manuel was a beautiful five year old boy with dirty blonde hair. He looked like an angel laying there sleeping soundly, the spider man blanket pulled all the way up to his little chin.

In the opposite corner, far from the teddy-bear lamp a fiendishly soft discussion began. Shadows gathered strength, oh, how they despised his beauty, his innocence. Their hatred built and their demonic forms started to take on a cloudy erratic shape. Both of them whispered, arguing over which would get to devour his innocent little soul. The more heated the discussion, the more defined their ragged shapes became. Nearly solid, they began to move; slowly at first, struggling to maintain momentum toward his small bed.

Their argument grew louder. The boy stirred and mumbled something turning on his side. Both hushed and sat quiet for a moment with evil impatience.

*

Susan snuggled next to Kenneth and whispered, ” Just checked, he’s asleep.” Manuel’s father put his arm around his wife and dozed off smiling.

Kenneth dreamed often and this time his dream turned oddly vivid. He saw an awkward struggle of dark shapes. From a distance, he could hear their chatter but couldn’t quite make out what they were saying. They were two black disfigured shapes with crooked backs and motley misshapen horns. Kenneth felt frightened.

*

Outside his dream, Susan moved in her sleep as Kenneth’s body began to sweat.

*

In the dark dream Kenneth watched helpless as the two dark silhouettes slowly moved in on their prey, shambling forward on stunted legs. The figure of their interest was small and laying on its side. Kenneth couldn’t quite make out the shape but it seemed oddly familiar. The two crooked lurking forms kept him from getting a clear view. Knowing he had to find out, he slowly crept closer quietly tip toeing to the left desperate to stay out of sight.

The small figure was on a square pallet. From the bottom came a soft warm glow. The dark ones were concentrated at the top, the darkest point of the palette. Kenneth moved in closer, trying to catch a clear view of their prey, urgency pushing fear aside.

The closer he got to the palette the more defined the image became. He could smell them now, acidic and horrible. The palette now a bed and the figure his son, Kenneth screamed in fear and anger. The two shadowy demons turned and looked at him with huge gaping maws, clawed hands and giant teeth dripping a viscous slime. He dove at them all fists and fury. Their yowls of pain made him smile as he broke his fists on their knotted misshapen skulls. He pummeled and fought them back, gaining ground between his son and the monsters.

*

Susan shook her husband desperately trying to wake him. He’d screamed in his sleep and was covered in sweat. Finally, his eyes opened and with a start he jumped out of bed heading at full speed to the stairs and Manuel. She let out a yip and climbed out after him.

Kenneth topped the stairs in a flash and opened his son’s door. There was a horrible smell in the room and he saw a whirl of darkness fleetingly disappear into the deepest shadows. His son lay there peaceful and unharmed. By this time, Susan came in out of breath. Sharply, just above a whisper, “Kenneth, what the hell are you doing?” “Don’t you dare wake him!”

Kenneth tried to tell her, mumbling about lurking demons as she pushed him out of the room towards the stairs. In their bedroom he told her of his dream and she held him close saying softly “It was just a dream.” She grabbed his hand to pull him to her and he flinched in pain.

Both Susan and Kenneth could not believe the purple battered state of his fists.

For the next few weeks they both slept on the floor next to Manuel’s bed, always leaving the light on.

About the Author

Christopher S. Silva

Christopher Scott Silva currently lives with his wife and two sons in Germany. Chris is Editor and Moderator for two of the most popular internet sites for writers on the web. He enjoys writing science fiction, horror and fantasy, and his atmospheric style and clever prose pulls the reader instantly into his fantastical realms.

Chris’s fast-paced gritty style keeps his readers coming back for more. His recently published serial in ‘Forgotten Worlds’ magazine, ‘Another Day On The Job’ (in print -UK) was well received by popular critics. Chris can be found writing in Frankfurt, or anywhere there’s a warm cup of good coffee and fast wireless internet access.

By Mairi Angus