13 Aug Red on the Rubik’s Cube
“Red on the Rubik’s Cube”
Written by N.M Brown Edited by Craig Groshek Thumbnail Art by Craig Groshek Narrated by N/ACopyright Statement: Unless explicitly stated, all stories published on CreepypastaStories.com are the property of (and under copyright to) their respective authors, and may not be narrated or performed, adapted to film, television or audio mediums, republished in a print or electronic book, reposted on any other website, blog, or online platform, or otherwise monetized without the express written consent of its author(s).
🎧 Available Audio Adaptations: None Available
⏰ ESTIMATED READING TIME — 9 minutes
Ya know, I thought we were off the hook this year. I really did. We’ve always tried to make the holidays extra special for our son Davey. However, he was eleven this year. And in my opinion, too old for going door to door in costume. If I’d have asked my dad to go out at that age, I’d have gotten a drunken laugh and a bruised arm as he led me back into my room with it. We always try to be better than our parents, though. Right?
It didn’t help matters that our son chose this stage of life to let his imagination run rampant. Most children outgrow things like the boogeyman and imaginary friends long before age eleven. But not our Davey. For him, it was, apparently, all just getting started. It was difficult for me to understand at times, but I can’t say I didn’t envy him at times. The family I was born into forced kids, boys especially, to grow up faster than was necessary. I suppose at the end of the day, I was happier with it being this way.
That still didn’t bring me much solace about trick-or-treating, though.
Here it was, still weeks away from Halloween, and Davey demanded to be a Rubik’s Cube. My wife, Val, was as crafty as the next mother was, but whether or not she had the time to prove it was a different story. Nevertheless, I began looking for large, cardboard boxes and colored construction paper booklets. I’d even gone as far as to wonder if I should get some high-gloss clear paint to paint over the color pages for authenticity. Deciding against it in the end, I took the supplies home, feeling like I’d done a good thing for my child. I placed everything (sans box) on the corner of the table, where it sat… and sat.
In our defense, we were severely sleep-deprived. Val and I’s time in the evenings is precious to me. The times after dinner, when we smoked, laughed, hugged, and talked about our days, were often the only things that kept a smile on my face throughout the workday.
And Davey was fucking that up.
We had a routine down, and a good one too! I’d get home from work, and Val and I would usually make dinner together. We’d gather around the table to talk to our son and eat, then send Davey outside to play so we could have some time to ourselves. We’d call him in when it was dark out, have him wash, unwind and go to bed. Rinse and repeat.
The timing of it was absolutely perfect, until it wasn’t.
Davey had been coming in crying, all upset about some creature he’d seen outside in the woods. While we did live in a heavily wooded area, the animal he described to me didn’t sound like anything I’d ever heard of before. The amalgamation of features, coupled with the bipedal way it functioned, convinced Val and me that this was something made up in the boy’s mind. Maybe a product of watching television too late at night, or a terrifying, tall tale told on the school bus by much older boys.
He described thick, red-veined tissue and paddles for hands. There was one eye on the top of its head, and one off to the side, down low. And other nonsensical things only a child can come up with.
I know my earlier statement about my son fucking things up seems cold or harsh, and I apologize for that. But you’ve got to understand that I put up with it for a long time before I hardened myself to a child’s fears this way. We both did.
If I had a quarter for every damn time Val looked at me with pouting eyes as he whined, silently urging me to check it out for our only child’s peace of mind. And every time my back would groan as I grabbed my jeans off the floor to put back on, and placed my aching ankles back into my work boots before following him out to the woods- the land that the creature called home.
And every damn time, Davey’s face fell with disappointment, as if responding to an accusation un-uttered into existence. Because every time was the same- nothing would be there. A leaf-speckled labyrinth of tree branches was the only thing to see for what seemed like miles.
The first time, I believed him when he suggested that maybe the noise of our feet scared it off. Maybe it didn’t like adults, he had said.
By the fifth time, I was plain fucking done with it.
He would slam our door open so many times in the middle of our evening sessions. They weren’t sexual, but in many ways they were the times I held the most intimate to my soul. It would happen so many times that we would give up, only resuming long past when he was asleep in bed, and we were supposed to be.
So yeah, we were tired, and things got left behind.
We tried to suggest that he stay inside entirely if he was so frightened, and he cried.
So we would encourage him to go out and play, hoping that that day would be the one where this phase had finally passed, and… he cried.
We were running out of options. So out of nothing but desperation, I tried to handle it like my old man would have with me.
Val made his favorite meal, and as fate would have it, he had an especially good day at school that day.
So I took advantage and took a chance.
“Hey… uhh… are you planning on going outside today, kiddo?” I asked tentatively, leaving food in my mouth to make the question appear more casual than it was.
He nodded, fear creeping into the edges of his eyes as he pushed pieces of corn around on his plate.
“Davey, hey. It’s okay! I’m here. And I think it’s time we all talk about what’s bothering you. Now, this monster you call it. Does he try to hurt you?”
He nodded, his facial features scrunching up in confusion as he did. He said he’s never thrown anything at him. But he chases, and tries to grab him.
“Well… that certainly does sound scary, sweet boy. Have you tried talking to him? Some creatures, like bears, for example, will get scared if you puff up really big and yell really loud.”
He winced at this, stating that if anything, it’s the opposite. The monster roars at him in a voice that he can’t compare to anything he’s ever heard before. If he had to guess, he said it would be a cross between a hyena’s cackle and a loon.
“Well, I’ll tell you what, bud,” I paused, gently placing my hand on his shoulder. “You are our son, and you are loved. You don’t have to be afraid of anything. But if you have trouble remembering that, there are ways you can protect yourself.
Val cleared her throat to get my attention. But I shrugged it off. I figured he would rather feel empowered than scared. And with our boy’s temperament, I knew he wouldn’t take advantage of what he’s learned to be mean to other kids.
“It’s just like the tale in the Bible about David and Goliath. Or about the knight and the dragon books you loved when you were younger. You’ve always loved knights! Now, are you going to live in fear of the dragon? Or are you going to go out there and SLAY IT?!”
I, of course, meant slay as in defeat and/or stand up to his personal fears. I thought it was obvious when I said it.
He nodded excitedly, and Val gave a tight smile despite her disapproval.
Two evenings later, we were back to our evening routine without incident. We all seemed better rested, more productive and in better moods. We tackled the Rubik’s Cube as a family, with Davey gathering the colored pieces into their own piles, me taping the inside layers together, and Val gluing them to the sides of the box.
The colors of sunset had begun to bleed into the sky, but when he asked us in a voice that would soon deepen due to age if he could go out and play, his mother told him yes.
He shuffled into his bedroom for a few minutes before we heard the slam of the screen door close behind him. So I gave my wife’s ass a squeeze, winking at her before dashing up the stairs like the teenager she still made me feel like inside. She followed behind soon after, and before we knew it, we were giggling into a pint of potato chip-sprinkled Ben and Jerry’s while trying to find something on TV.
Her laughter made the time fly by, and it was longer than I’d like to admit before we acknowledged the silence in the house, indicating that Davey was still outside.
I tried to remain calm. However, Val had flown past me and was already taking the stairs two at a time. Her voice trailed softer and softer, and she ranted about how he’d never been late before and that he knew he was supposed to come in as soon as it was dark outside.
The screen door slammed shut just as I reached the last step, with nothing but a breathless gasp to prepare me for what I was about to see.
Our son stood in the kitchen entryway, his red speckled teeth stretched in a smile of triumph that was unnaturally wide. His shirt, pants and shoes were dotted with blood. The scent of copper consumed me as I rushed to him, assuming he had deeply injured himself.
“Oh my God, Dad! You shoulda seen it!”
My voice trembled as I asked, “Seen what David? Are you okay?”
“Oh yeah, I’m fine, guys! I did it, though. I finally did it!”
Let me take a moment here to say that the very worst I imagined had happened was that he killed an animal. Maybe a large cat, dog (God forbid), raccoon, or something else. So when he said he had defeated the monster, that was the very worst place that my mind went.
Val flirted with conclusions that were much more vivid. She asked me privately if there was a possibility that he might have really seen a monster out there. Then, just as I was about to even hint at taking her seriously, she referenced the new movie about the father and daughter who kill the unicorn. If I were a teenage girl, I’d roll my eyes.
Sadly, the fact was that blood came from somewhere… from something.
Ultimately, we decided to tell him to get a bath and get ready for bed. Val made me promise to go out to the woods in the morning to see if I could figure out what it was he had injured, or most likely, killed. We cleaned him up, with Val throwing his clothes in the washer immediately and me trying to scrub blood and bits of gore off our kitchen floor.
Fucking kids…
It was later on. Things had settled, I had turned the TV back on, while Val fussed over Davey in his bedroom- getting his clothes ready for the next day and tucking him in in a way that respected his preteen years. It took me a few moments to realize that the knocking I was hearing wasn’t from the show I was watching, but from our own front door.
FUCK! I thought to myself, knowing I’d have to get redressed for the second … or third time, really, that day. After taking care of that, I yelled to my wife that I’d answer the door as I descended the stairs.
A pale-faced man loomed on my doorstep, followed by a wiry woman with red-rimmed eyes. Their son had snuck out of the house earlier and hadn’t come home that night. Their overall tone didn’t seem to match the situation at all. I mean, Val and I had experienced this same thing earlier, albeit to a lesser degree. While the man’s face seemed grim, the woman was becoming downright hysterical.
I told her that I hadn’t seen any other children around besides my own, and that I was under the impression that there were no other kids around where they lived. I was happy to be proven wrong.
My mind began to race with possibilities of sending Davey off to playdates and even better… sleepovers when the mother’s shrill voice rang out.
She said that we didn’t understand, pleading with me to give her answers I thought I didn’t have.
The woman continued, saying that her son was disabled and had taken a liking to being outdoors for the first time in years. He was homeschooled, and they tried to keep him inside and in their yard only. Close to where they could see and monitor him.
Val put a sympathetic hand on her arm, asking what her little boy looked like, in hopes of helping canvas the area. Which prompted the mother to break out in fresh tears.
The man next to her, presumably her father, pulled a picture out of his pocket, hesitating before handing it to us. His tone became even more solemn when he explained that the child was a victim of a vicious animal attack as a toddler and had to endure countless reconstructive surgeries. His voice quavered as he explained that they weren’t able to save his ears or tongue. Mentally, he is all the same as any other growing child, but his physical disabilities were vast. And other children were always put off by his appearance.
Val asked if they wanted to stay with us while we called the police, but they declined, saying that they were going to look a little more first. They promised to let us know if they heard anything, and we promised to do the same.
I hadn’t realized Val was still holding the child’s picture until they had long left the driveway.
It was that exact moment that Davey decided to come downstairs to see what all the commotion was. We told him not to worry about it and tried to send him back to bed. He leaned in to hug his mother and froze, his eyes trained on the picture.
And then, he murmured two words that would change our lives forever.
He pointed to the picture, and with a gasp, said: The Monster…
🎧 Available Audio Adaptations: None Available
Written by N.M Brown Edited by Craig Groshek Thumbnail Art by Craig Groshek Narrated by N/A🔔 More stories from author: N.M Brown
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Copyright Statement: Unless explicitly stated, all stories published on CreepypastaStories.com are the property of (and under copyright to) their respective authors, and may not be narrated or performed, adapted to film, television or audio mediums, republished in a print or electronic book, reposted on any other website, blog, or online platform, or otherwise monetized without the express written consent of its author(s).