The two adults shouting in the next room awoke the little boy. He sat up in the waving silver moonlight that trickled through the curtains. He looked through wide, unblinking eyes towards the door in horror. The little boy sat like that a long time, only moving so much as to sniffle occasionally. He cringed and pulled his knees to his tiny, quivering chest as there was the crash of something shattering against the floor in the other room accompanied by a howl of rage.
They fought a lot, Buxbie could tell that much right away. This one was getting violent. The parents, though, were not why Buxbie was there, they didn’t interest the monster as much as the whimpering little boy. Timothy, the boy’s name was, if Buxbie recalled the file correctly.
From his crouching position in the closet Buxbie watched the small form of Timothy shake with sobs after covering his face with the blanket and rolling onto his side. The monster raised one clawed hand to the closet door and pushed it open a little further, so he could take in the rest of the room.
The thin, white curtains wafting on the light breeze through the open window made the shadows of every pile of clothing and toy sway back and forth in a slow and forlorn dance. If one didn’t count the dirty laundry and toys on the floor as decoration, then the room’s only decoration was one small poster above the bed. The poster featured a fanciful knight on armored steed, raising a sword above his head with the words “Knights of Australi Tribus” inscribed across the bottom.
Buxbie had been in the rooms of many children, and this one lacked the personal touches of having housed a small child for long. The family must have moved recently, Buxbie thought as he raised his large, scaled head a few more inches, trying to get a better look at the side of the kid’s head. As he had feared, he now saw the faint lavender light of the small wisps starting to circle around the exposed tuft of hair. Another crash from the other room made the boy peek out from under his covers towards the door, the silvery light glinting off long tracks of tears down his face.
Buxbie watched as the small purple wisps of innocence circled further and further from the child’s head. Those were the wisps of innocence that slowly left the body as they were pushed out by the worries of the adult world.
It was time to act.
Buxbie pushed himself further out of the closet. His face was still hidden in shadow, but just barely. He dragged three practiced claws slowly over the rough hardwood flooring, letting the scraping sound carry through the floor. The child’s head jerked towards the closet and Buxbie let out a menacing growl as he leaned forward into the light.
The terror on the boys face was complete and total. He froze, staring into the shimmering red eyes of the demonic figure. Buxbie grinned, watching the small purple wisps disappear back under the child’s hair. He lurched forward again and, just as intended, the boy’s paralysis shattered. The boy screamed and darted back under the covers.
Buxbie’s job being done, he slipped silently out of the window into the night and crawled to the storm drain where he disappeared from sight completely. He knew that he may have to return to this one sometime, but he had given the kid a Grade-A, top quality scare. Little Timothy would be worrying about childish things again for a long time to come, and thus, his childhood was safe for now.
Buxbie gave himself a pat on the back, then worked his way toward his next assignment, a little girl on the northern edge of town who had recently started to worry about if she would ever amount to anything.