From Sandy Bibeau:
In the middle of the night, in the foggy moonlight, the gargoyle jumped out from behind the crooked tree.
Melinda sang as she pranced around the room.
“You’re not supposed to tell anyone,” Shawn muttered. His sister’s face scrunched in protest and her tongue shot out as far as it could reach. He huffed and looked back at the old book.
“It says here that no one really thinks they’re real which is why they can get around so easily and sneakily.”
Melinda stopped and knelt next to Shawn. “I know they’re real,” she whispered.
“You think unicorns are real,” he scoffed. Melinda’s big brown eyes widened.
“You don’t?” she asked.
“Of course not, silly,” Shawn said and closed the book quickly. He stood. “Come on, it’s time for bed.”
“I am six years old. I don’t need you to put me to bed.”
Shawn sighed. “I know but mom asked, so…” He shrugged and started to close the blinds. Melinda pouted as she took a last stare out into the darkness. She climbed into bed and waited for Shawn to flip the switch and leave her alone.
He flipped the switch. The door latched close.
“You know nothing, Shawn Smith,” Melinda whispered into the darkness.
She waited before his steps on the stairs faded away.
Slinking off her bed, she went to her closet and opened the door. A soft glow emanated from the corner. Pushing passed stuffed animals and dolls, she sat next to the small gargoyle lounging with a book open before him.
“The unicorn won’t be able to visit us today,” she said to him. He blinked and a soft growl emanated from his chest.
“I know,” she ran a finger over the cat painted on the page. “He closed the blinds, and I haven’t figured out how to open them yet.”
The gargoyle huffed and snuggled into her as Melinda started to tell a story, oblivious to the meaningless words on the book’s pages.
By Lisa Barry
4 August 2016
Stories My Friends Started 