Just Smile

Sometimes, smiling is not enough. How can I remedy the problem if I was taught no cure? How can I move my legs again without a helping hand?

This story contains themes of depression and deep despair. If you or someone you know is struggling, you are not alone. If you need help, please reach out to a mental health organization. <3

“What if it comes back?” The child asked its mother as it was tucked safely into a small wooden bed.

She gave it one of those thin smiles. “If it comes back, you must be happy.” The mother ruffled the child’s hair.

It grinned widely, only for a moment. Its hands shook above the striped covers as the smile faded into a pout. “Mom,” It stared at its mother with the eyes of a ghost, “The monster sits on—m—my—legs until I cry.” Its bottom lip quivered now.

The mother put a finger to the child’s lips. “Hush.” She shushed him with a motherly tone, her body held rigid like a nail. “Just smile and it will go away.” The mother stood up to leave, arms crossed in front of her chest. “Goodnight.” She shut the door, leaving the child in the dark.

There was no light. Not even the moon chose to part of herself that night. The stars cowered in the heavens behind pale blue clouds. Just bright enough to know they were there, but distant enough that their glow was no comfort. The air was eerily still, as if one could blow a forgotten dandelion into the sky and it would stick in place.

I peered down at the child.

With its eyes closed, it still shook uncontrollably. The covers nearly hid its head and hands sheltered its ears. A sickly squish sounded from underneath the child’s bed. I watched as inky black tentacles slithered over the worn wood floors. One traveled up the mattress to the child’s head, leaving a dark sludge on its skin.

I wish I could move.

This sight was not new. The creature visited the child nearly every night. The mother was no help.

I wish I could speak.

The creature climbed from its residence, dragging its giant body atop the child’s legs. It always just sat there until the child realized what made it feel so heavy in sleep. The child would wake up with a fright, crying and begging the creature to leave it alone. The creature never accepted the child’s appeals. It tried to smile at the creature, but the creature stayed put. The child plastered a smile on its face that would convince any onlookers of its happiness. Nothing happened. I watched the child look at the creature with defeated, dead eyes. The mother’s advice failed, and the child had learned no other remedy to combat the beast. I could sense the child.

I wish I could cry.

There were no movements I could make, no words I could speak, and no tears I could cry that would have saved the child. No, the one who could have made a difference in the child’s timeline did not notice how the child sank further into the mattress with every passing day. She did not see the sticky smears the creature left behind under the bed. The mother did not love the child enough to ensure there was enough light to see through the darkness each night.

By the time it reached morning, I was already fading. The mother turned the knob of the child’s bedroom door, expecting to see it sleeping peacefully under the covers. She threw pillows and tossed blankets, searching for it.

“Why would my child disappear?”

“Where did my child go?”

{cover art: Different Peoples Inhabit the Countries of the Ocean by Odilon Redon}