He sat on the bathroom floor beside the bathtub and sink and let his toes curl around the shaggy rug. Outside, the darkness pressed against the small window, but the glass protected him, as did the moon outside. He was becoming better at noticing the round circles marked on the family calender. Maybe that's why it was inside.

A heavy creak came from farther down the hallway, and he looked up at the crack just under the door, waiting. It was locked, but even that little crack was a possibility. If it could get in the house, from closets and bedrooms, then a crack in the door wasn't anything.

His eyes looked up at the burning bulb and wondered how long they lasted, on average, and if he should start keeping a list of the days - just in case. If the bulbs ever went out, he wouldn't stand a chance. Something would happen. Something bad - just like before. He'd need to start keeping batteries in his flashlight instead of risking a trip to the bathroom on his own like this again. Maybe a few in his pocket. How much was in his wallet, and would his allowance allow for a nice stock. Did batteries expire? He wasn't sure, but making metal lists like this was passing the time.

It was quiet, had been for some time. Was it safe now? Rubbing one eye, he moved to the door, peeking through the hole, and the first flash of a dark hallway had his heart jumping into his throat before he noticed it was nothing. No vague creeping shadow with eyes. It had been slow, this one, but large with a heavy smell to it that reminded him of tuna and bad cheese.

Palm sweating, he took the doorknob and, peeking out to see if the coast was clear. Nothing. It was dark, and as he opened the door, flooding the hallway with light, it seemed quiet. Normal.

Not taking chances, he took a runner's stance before booking it to the nearest hallway switch and turning it on, casting the hallway in wondrous light.

Not entirely gone.

The floor was covered in muddy footprints, and the air smelled like old sneakers. Looking at his own feet, he jumped back to the wall to see he stepped in one already, and raced back to the bathroom, turning on the tub faucet and letting the water rush out until he swung over the side. He didn't want another burn, or to smell this for days. It had to come off.

Breathing deep, he fumbled with the bar of soggy soap and washed his feet until he was sure it was gone. Leaning down, he sniffed for measure, and noticed only the smell of Ivy Springs.

But the hallway floor was still dirty. Reeking even, and if his siblings came out to step in it, they'd get burned. He wondered where the shadow went, but gone was gone. Now he had to clean up before he got in trouble.

Moving to the sink, he opened the cabinets below to pull out a white bucket his dad kept in case the pipes ever leaked. It had also been used to fill water-guns, as a new home for random frogs and crawdads, and for helping wash his dad's car. Their were a few scrub brushes there for cleaning tiles, and he took a frayed one before dumping the rest into the cabinet. He found some soap in a bottle, squeezing it tightly until the bottom was a rich blue, and then turned on the faucet to the sink, letting it fill until it was just above overflowing. Heaving it out of the tub, he went to the hallway and set it down.

It wasn't till now that he noticed how long the hallway was, and wished he knew the name of the shadow to curse it. Alone, he dared to get cocky and say '********' in barely a whisper. Yeah. ********. ******** that monster!

Ignoring the fact he had been cowering in the bathroom for nearly an hour, he puffed as he whispered again. "******** monster."

Sadly, whatever manly courage he was gathering was only used enough to kneel down and dip the brush into the sudsy water. The light remained on. He didn't go looking for the monster. The extent of his courage was spent here, cleaning the evidence. The toxic scum. The leftovers. He was little more of a maid now, and he grumbled as he started to scrub a floor print. It was like having to take care of a muddy dog, one you didn't like, could bite your head off, and never stayed in it's pin. He wished he could chain a monster out back and then he could terrorize it whenever he wanted to. He was moments from dipping his hand down when he remembered.

"Oh." Rising up, he tiptoed around the footprints before going back to the bathroom, fishing out a pair of rubber gloves used for handing bathroom cleaners, and returned. They were large, floppy on his fingers, and a ugly shade of pastel blue. Entirely too girly for his tastes. Didn't they make gloves nicer than this? Manlier?

Going back to his knees, he dipped the brush back in and with all bases covered, started to scrub.


It was some time, a good few feet where he started, when he heard the door click. Breath catching, he turned around to see his mother looking at the light turned on and then at the wet floor and then over to her son.

"Melvin?" She whispered, looking back into their bedroom to make sure her husband was still sleeping before shutting the door behind her. "Melvin, what are you doing up?" She whispered, and stopped when she really looked at him. He was trying to pull the gloves off, but they were soapy, wet, and the insides were moist from his sweating palms. He thought it was the monster again, but this was no better.

"I.." He whispered, looking to the brush in his hand, the bucket, the floor with a row of large footprints trailing into the dark. "...I was just..." He looked at her, just barely. Dressed in a floral dressing gown with pink slippers, hair down and messy. Tired. Wrinkles from age, but most now from concern. It wasn't so much that he was in trouble. It was how she was looking at what he was doing, and he felt a rush to correct her thoughts. To think he was anything but -

"I ...there was something in the house, and it got dirt all over the floor. So, I'm cleaning it because .."

"Honey." He watched her move, stepping carefully onto the clean floor and to him.

"But look. It's right there. There's dirt..." He gestured to the floor. She glanced, and then looked back to him. The look she gave didn't go away. He had been kind. He didn't HAVE to clean this up. It was to keep them safe. Didn't she like when the house was clean? She always used to yell at them when they came in from the rain with dirty shoes.
"If it's every dirty, then just come get me. You should be in bed. You have school tomorrow. Come." She helped him take off the gloves, lifting him up from his knees. They felt stiff and sore. His eyes were down, and he didn't say a word as she lead him to his room, making sure he got into bed. She kept the door ajar, and while he used to protest that he didn't need her to do so, now he wished she's just keep it wide open. The light from the hallway stayed on for a while, and he turned to see the light as he listened to the bucket empty, but before he could listen to see if she would scream - if the monster returned, or if she would start scrubbing, he started to fall asleep.

When he woke, he felt terrible that he woke her up, and that she had to spend the night cleaning. Cleaning up and getting dressed, he went downstairs for breakfast. They ate, and everyone grabbed their backpacks to get ready to walk to the bus stop. When he was sure his brother and sister were out the door, he finally managed to look at his mother since that morning. "Did...you stay up late cleaning?" He asked.

She only smiled, but her brow was creased. "Oh...no. Not at all. Just....just come get me next time, okay?" She touched his cheek a moment, and he stood only a moment as he looked to her.

She hadn't cleaned the floor at all, had she?

Looking down, he stepped away and headed off to school, remembering how spotless the hallway had been that morning when he woke up.

She had to have cleaned the floor last night, right?

She had to.

((Words: 1496))