My grandmother was the crazy person in the family, always thinking that someone was out to get her. While she was in the nursing home she began to claim there were ‘monsters’ outside her window, under her bed and in the closet. She had some days of normalcy where she would sit in her arm chair reading a book or just staring out of the window and beyond the vast garden. Before she went in to a care home, Grandma had passed an old toy bunny down in hopes it would live through the family for generations. I didn’t care for the old dust collector, so I stored the thing away in the attic.
It was a quiet Sunday when the doorbell rang. Nothing seemed to be wrong at the time. The sun was shining down on the green garden as I stood at the sink, wishing the summer would never end. I had just finished washing the plates when the knocking got persistent and louder. I hurried to the door and opened it, frustrated and unpleased.
Black boots, black jeans, black jacket. The guy stood tall, without emotion on his pale face. His hair a dark ash-white, much like his eyes. I shrugged it off and put it down to something that went wrong with his DNA, but there was something wrong with him from the start. He just had this darkness about him. He entered my house without an invitation and looked around the hallway.
“May I help you?” I asked, agitated.
“Where is it?” The tall man’s mouth didn’t move, but I heard it clearly in my ear. The voice was deep and ruff like a strangled growl.
He didn’t wait for an answer, he marched his way up the stairs and stood underneath the attic door. I couldn’t do anything, I wouldn’t stand a chance against the tall man; my best hopes were to let him take my possessions in the attic and watch him leave.
The attic door fell open as the ladder unfolded itself and allowed the man to climb up. I had to follow him, it felt wrong to leave the man alone with my dust collection. I needed to know what this was all about.
He stood in the centre of everything slowly turning around in a circle, looking for something particular. As he stood still facing the west side of the attic, I noticed his eyes were a solid black. He slowly stepped towards a lonely box, dragging out each step like a clock slowly dying.
I held my breath in case it was my last. He had picked up the rabbit and turned it back and forth, judging it. The rabbit was no smaller than an adult’s hand. It was a pure white colour with a bright pink nose and black eyes when my grandmother gave it to me, but since then it had collected particles of filth and cobwebs; the colour was now an off grey. It laid limp and lifeless in the demon’s large grasp.
“Yes,” he said, a menacingly as a grin slowly formed on his face. “I have found you.” Each word he spoke echoed in my ear without him moving a muscle.
The rabbit began to bubble and hiss as if it had hot water boiling inside of it. The seams broke as the toy began to inflate and swell like a balloon. A black gunk like substance oozed out of the rabbit’s stomach and dripped in clumps on to the floor. The dark substance began to move by itself till it stacked on top of each other and moulded into a disfigured person with long legs, long arms and a lopsided face.
As I had slowly taken in the sight of the monster before me, I began to realise my grandmother wasn’t crazy like we had thought…