“You’re lying.” Cedric’s grin widens.
His father between spurts of laughter says, “You and your smart head. Always knowing everything. Well this birthday you’ll be so surprised. You won’t be able to guess what you’re getting in a million years.”
“I’m telling you, we aren’t getting you anything this year.” His mom chimes in.
“Still lying. I bet I’m getting a wand.” But after neither parent answering he pushes his chair into the table and ads. “It would be pretty cool though.”
“Nope, no wand, no nothin’” His father says.
Cedric staggers backward, holding onto the kitchen counter. “You’re . . . lying.”
His dad, as shocked as Cedric is, looks over to his wife, “I shouldn’t have said anything.”
Trying to sort out his thoughts Cedric announces, “I’m gonna go sleep now.”
“By golly Crystal, look at the time.” His dad says.
Cedric doesn’t normally stay up this late, but this is a special occasion. Not his birthday — that’s on Monday, August fifth. It’s the first day in eight months James and Crystal Dustbrook, Cedric’s parents, are home. Their jobs at the government require large amounts of their time and during their past job they were researching seismic activity in the Appalachians.
He shuffles up the stairs and to the first room on the right. He flicks the light switch on, revealing the contents of Cedric’s room: A king sized bed, a desk with his various electronics and homework strewn across it, a lamp and a bookshelf, quite a big one. On the wall next to this is a walk-in closet which is no use for Cedric. He just throws his clothes over the end of his bed.
He throws off his slippers and shuts off his lamp before burrowing under four blankets, the top one being a fluffy blanket filled with photos from his family's trips; a present from his mother given to him on his last birthday, almost a year ago. It was a nightly ritual of Cedric’s to go to sleep with four or more blankets on, just to wake up with them all on the ground besides him.
Cedric lies there on his bed, motionless for what seems like hours, relaying his dad’s words in his head, “Nope, no wand, no nothin’.” He tries to sleep but every time his mind would just about drift off he would get a bad feeling. The type of feeling when you're walking by yourself after the sun sets and you keep checking your shoulder every other minute, then run the rest of the way home, scared that something's watching you. At these feelings he takes his dad's advice, thinking of how great his day was today. His father, James Dustbrook took today as a father and son day. The two of them went to the cinema, had a bite to eat then had taken him to go bowling with Seth Smith, Cedric’s best friend. Then at the end of the day they came home and as a family played board games until well after midnight.
The alarm clock besides Cedric’s bed now reads 2:00 A.M. It gives a soft light, matching the moon outside, but after several more uneasy feelings Cedric closes the curtains, leaving the only light to come from his clock.
Throughout the night Cedric becomes ever closer to getting up and running to the safety of his parents bedroom, but stopping him is his eleven year old pride and the fear that his movement will wake up the Woebegone. That’s what Cedric calls it. Whatever it is. Having never seen it but feeling the fright and sorrow it afflicts him, Cedric decided Woebegone is the perfect name.
The complete darkness and lack of sound makes every breath a hurricane, every movement a thought, a conscious thought that his movement would lead whoever, whatever is out there, to find him.
Cedric places all four blankets over his head but it quickly becomes too hard to breathe. He carefully lifts his head above the other three blankets and gives a little whimper. “Whoever you are. I’m not scared of you.”
Cedric feels silly.. His first train of thought believes nothing to be there. But somewhere deep down in his other thoughts Cedric knows this to not be the case. He places his feet on the floor — after listening intently making sure nothing was under it — then stands up, but for a brief second, before clambering back on his bed.
He wants to get his parents and make all this fear go away but he is not willing to. For his eleven, almost twelve year old pride is too great.
Cedric goes back to his happy thoughts. He recounts the happy adventures his parents have taken him on, studying the blanket intently from the light of his clock: His first and second times up the Appalachians, the road trip from Albuquerque, across Arizona and to the Grand Canyon. Going to visit Mount Rushmore. The African Safari.
He senses whatever it is, watching over him. Ready to spring in and take him, but with this added fortification of memories and an honor to withhold — The bravest Dustbrook in history. (Something his father would tell him when he would mention the Woebegone.) Cedric reaches across and grabs his pocket knife, before placing both feet back on the floor. Shouting out. “I’m not scared of you!”
Then the footsteps came. Comforting footsteps. Waddling up the staircase. From his doorway he sees the silhouette of his golden retriever. Cedric let’s out a low whistle then runs back to his bed for the second time, but now with Sadie sitting at the edge, happy with all the pets Cedric is giving her.
With Sadie to defend him from the terrors of the night, Cedric is taken up by sleep, but a little over an hour later, at the sound of a tapping at his window, Cedric flings himself up, holding himself back from tears. “Whoever you are, come on out.” He says this in a half whimper, half sob. There in the doorway, is another silhouette.
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No, it’s not Sadie this time, but something much more sinister. It seems to take in all the warmth of the room. Less than a silhouette, it’s that of a standing shadow. The figure stands so tall it has to hunch it's back not to hit the ceiling. It takes one step into Cedric’s room and lets it’s slender arms sway from side to side, falling clear past where it’s knees should be.
Something about it just seems so off. Not that it is a literal 3d shadow, but it’s balance just seems so off. Any normal creature would have fallen, with all its body weight in front of it, but it leans farther into the grotesque position, looking ready to pounce.
Cedric wants nothing more than to let out a scream but all he can manage is a teardrop. He tries to move his body, but to no avail he lies there.
Sadie stands up tall, looking the figure right in the eyes, or rather the head, it having no discernable features. She gives one solid bark, but does nothing to deter the woebegone. It takes a step forward. “Cedric Dustbrook. You know what your parents have done to me?”
It’s voice shrieks, but in a low tone, resonating through the room.
It’s voice sends forth such a foul smell. Wafting over to Cedric. He tries to yell, or turn back the other way but Cedric doesn’t seem to be in control of his body.
Sadie grabs his shirt, pulling him farther back, but the figure steps closer, filling in the gap, now inches to his bed. Cedric could reach out and touch him now, not that he’d ever want to. Something about it’s skin reminds him of rotting old froot. It seems to have either scales or fur, but the more Cedric looks, the weirder it looks, shifting in and out of positions. It has a mesmerizing field to it. Now all Cedric wants to do is gaze into the shape, blocking out the world around him. Sadie gives a low snarl and brings him back to his senses. She lunges forward but falls straight through the woebegone. She whimpers as the figure bends down closer to Cedric.
It’s long fingers ease forward, very slowly. They intertwine around Cedric’s throat, drawing the life out of him. Staring at the beast, it makes Cedric skip out of reality again. “Come with me. We could be great together.” It’s growls soften into a more calming voice, almost soothing. Something snaps Cedric into focus again. Not Sadie this time but a scream from inside the woebegone. Not anything like it’s voice, but a man, an old man. “Go! Don’t give in.” The shape warps between a shadowy man and the tall woebegone, several times a second. They seemed to fight for control. “Get out of here old man. This is my affair. He’s mine!” Then the woebegone shaped into focus. Taking full control. It lunges forward at cedric. Taking him by the throat.
Finding the ability to control his body, Cedric fights back, pushing at the woebegone. Trying to squirm away, but it’s just too strong.
Cedric tries to breathe but there’s no hope. On the verge of passing out a pair of feet can be heard bounding towards his room. “Pat, get over here!” A voice screams. A ripple of sound can be heard. “Cedric!”
Before passing out, Cedric tries desperately to recognize the voice, it sounds so familiar, but it’s just too far away. He sinks farther, deeper into his bed as his hearing fades all together.
Beep, beep. The alarm clock sounds. Cedric stops it with a sweaty hand, still wondering what was going on last night. It had to have been a dream. But Cedric knew all too well that it was no dream. He grabs one of the blankets from off the floor and sleep overtakes him once again.
“Cedric!” His mom calls up the stairs. “You’re gonna be late for school.”
Slowly and with many yawns Cedric pulls on a t-shirt and shorts, then clumsily makes his way down to the kitchen, catching himself on the last step. “False alarm.” His mom announces. “The school called and said it’s a snow day.”
Now full of enthusiasm Cedric pulls open the kitchen curtains, revealing a foot of snow. “Couldn’t of told me that before?” He jokes.
Cedric fills Sadie’s bowl before wolfing down his scrambled eggs. “I’m gonna go to Seth’s.”
“Better grab your coat, and take Sadie for a walk.”
Cedric is glad he listened. A blast of wind matches him as he opens the door. Making his face feel pinched and pink.
“Hey, you going over to Seth’s?” His dad asks, shoveling the driveway.
“Yeah but I’ve gotta walk Sadie first.”
“Don’t worry ‘bout that.” He winks. “Go have some fun.”
“Hey dad?”
“Yeah?”
“Um, I had a pretty bad dream last night, only I don’t think it was a dream.”
His dad’s ears perk up, now giving his full attention. “Maybe you need to stay off those electronics before bed.”
“You know what happened, don’t you?” After several seconds without an answer Cedric ads. “Why didn’t you tell me it’s real?”
“I don’t know what you're talking about.”
“You’re lying.”
Cedric storms off in the direction of the Smith’s house, taking a shortcut through the woods. Ever since Cedric was born he could tell when someone was lying and his father was definitely lying. His eyes not quite meeting Cedric’s, the tremble in his voice, playing with the shovel. All these behaviours told Cedric, without a doubt, that the woebegone isn’t his imagination. It is quite real.
“What’s going on with me?” He asks into the wind.
Sure the cold does bother him, it does burn his eyes, but it tells Cedric that this is real life. He is not dreaming, nor hallucinating and now he knows that whatever the woebegone wants, it’s going to try hard to get it. For the past three years, he’s had trouble sleeping and thought there were monsters under his bed. Every time his parents marked it up to be sleep apnea, or his imagination, and then there’s the wand. How on earth could a wand be real. This life stuff is not what people marked it up to be.