* Authors : Sylvia Heike, Ally Chua, Aleks Wittkamp and Drew Czernik
* Narrators : Andrew K. Hoe, Graeme Dunlop, Srikripa Krishna Prasad and Lalana Dara
* Host : Craig Jackson
* Audio Producer : Peter Adrian Behravesh
*
Discuss on Forums
PodCastle 701: Flash Fiction Extravaganza — Flash Fiction Contest VI is a PodCastle original.
Rated PG.
Catch
By Ally Chua
“There’s a monster under my bed,” my son said, stifling his yawn.
I looked at Timmy, his sleepy eyes hidden beneath a mop of messy hair.
I ruffled his head and nodded. “I’m sure.”
“It keeps kicking my bed at night, Dad. He wants to play.”
“Oh, yeah? Is that why you’re yawning?”
Timmy shrugged. “Sometimes I throw paper balls for him to catch.”
I thought about the crumpled paper balls I had seen in his room recently. “Well, tell him I don’t like messy rooms.”
Miss L pulled me to one side when I picked Timmy up that afternoon. He’s been sleeping in class, she said.
I messaged my friends for advice on the ride home. I did not tell my mum. News of Timmy not sleeping was sure to go back to Lina.
Tire him out, a friend suggested. So that evening, I gave Timmy free rein at the playground. He clambered up the tubes like he was immune to gravity. He ran across the bridge so many times I was sure he left grooves. I dissuaded him from jumping off the swing. When we got home, I was exhausted.
Timmy showed me a drawing he’d done in class. A crayon-outlined bed and beneath it, a circular mass of squiggles with two bulbous eyes. It was eating an ice-cream cone.
I decided to sleep in Timmy’s room that night. I read to Timmy and watched as his eyelids turned droopy. When he was asleep, I retired to my makeshift bed.
I was almost asleep when I heard an unmistakable thud.
It came from the gap below the bed. I jolted upright, listening hard. No other sound except for the ticking alarm clock. My heart was pounding.
Was I mistaken?
Then a crumpled ball shot out, rolling to a stop near my feet. There was a scrambling sound and another thump, and this time my son was roused from his sleep. He looked at me groggily.
“Dad?”
I moved. I took a tennis racket from Timmy’s closet. I swept the racket below the bed. Nothing there but dust. I heard what sounded like whimpering.
The following night, Timmy slept in my room and I took his room instead.
I waited for ages, but the room remained silent. Finally, I climbed down onto the floor. I looked under Timmy’s bed and threw a paper ball in.
Nothing happened for a few seconds. Then there was a scrambling sound, and the ball shot out onto my lap.
On the third night, I brought Timmy back to his bedroom. When he fell asleep, I sat down and played catch with the crevasse beneath his bed. After a while the balls stopped rolling back. If I listened hard, I could hear two sets of snoring.
I set a sandwich underneath the bed before I left the room. Ice cream was not a healthy snack, even for monsters under the bed. The plate was empty the next day,
