“Good night Mr Gumpus.” I said, shifting him into the crook of my arm. His patchy fuzz scratching my neck as it has for so long. Over the years his fur has slowly been going, I have replaced his glass eye’s so many times I can do it in my sleep now. I have repaired his arm onto his body that he lost in one of the many fights with my sister. Neither of us even know what we fight for any more but it has been going off and on for the last year or so.
About the same amount of time that mommy has really gotten into those adult drinks she wont share with us.
I try to smile into my pillow as I used to when I thought of mum. The memories of being tucked in, of being soothed to sleep. Her comforting hand on my head when even Mr Gumpus was not enough.
Now I just remember her sitting in front of the tv waiting for daddy to finally get home.
He works so hard these days. Some nights, like tonight, I don’t even get to see him before he gets home. He is not there to kiss me good night, to check my closet or below my bed for monsters. He never remembers to leave the door slightly open either. I need Mr Gumpus.
I can feel the soft blanket of night settle over me and I snuggle deeper against Mr Gumpus.
“Poor kid.” I mutter as I watch Michael finally succumb to sleep. I am too old now, too old for this. Checking my dodgy arm to see if his work will hold this time. Looks good but a little stiff. At least this time I will have both eyes. That was a bad few weeks when I had no depth perception. I barely kept the monster at bay.
Straightening up out of Michael’s sleeping grip I readied myself. Another night of battle. I should have been retired years ago but he kept holding on. Poor bastard. Looking over my patched and worn form I know that I do not have much more to give.
I could hear Mary down in the den, the TV running way too loud. Another heavy night of drinking. I wonder what excuse Paul will bring home tonight. He has been getting worse and worse. Shivering as I recall the event two weeks ago. That had really taken the stuffing out me. Grinning mirthlessly at the old pun I could still remember the front door banging open. The smell of beer and cigarettes heavy in the air. Fighting against the plume of smoke and alcohol sprites as they tried to enter Michael’s room.
I had kept them at bay.
Then Mary had heard him. Stomping up the hallway, bringing with her a cloud of betrayal sprites. When she saw him in his state there was no defence that Paul could offer this time. His usual bout of “Late work” or “international call” would not do it. Even so I could see the lying wisps flickering around his head but thankfully none of them were fully formed.
Shaking my head I brought myself back to the present as I heard a taxi outside. Readying myself, I didn’t know what to expect tonight but for Michael’s sake I would try.
I felt so goddamn tired. I should have been given a Proper Burial years ago, added to the other fallen warriors into the great Box in the Attic. No time for pity now, the front door was opening.
Instantly seduction and infidelity wisps, fully grown, started to stream into Michael’s room. I stood straight up on the side of his bed and brought the fight. Wielding Trust and Faith, my reliable short swords, I spun them through the air, matching the wisps dancing flights.
There were too many!
Paul’s heavy breathing in the hallway summoned alcohol and pain fairies into existence with each breath. They flocked towards Michael, threatening to destroy him. Arms blurring I kept them at bay. Trust and Faith were flashing faster and faster, my repaired arm was already starting to ache. No! Mary had not even shown up yet! Not tonight, I would not let them through tonight. The fairies and wisps were circling over Michael, trying to find a way past my defences.
I would not let them.
The sound of the TV from the den died.
I got a brief respite from the battle. The attackers were waiting for reinforcements.
Mary was coming.
“What the hell kind of time do you call this!?” The cry bounced down the corridor bringing jealousy and its own pain fairies winging along with it. The battle was rejoined.
They struck.
I was dancing, spinning my way through the forms taught to me by my Master, The Great Pillow Lion. I could do this, I could feel the tide of the battle holding. I just had to keep it up. I had survived so many battles already, I could do this. My fur was fraying more and more but I could keep this up.
For Michael, I could do this.
“Lay off it Mary.” Paul sullenly rejoined. “I have had a long day and I just want to get home without you yelling at me!” Oh God. Resentment worms, giant pale slugs had started to inch their way across the threshold. Spiralling and keeping an eye on them, I had heard tales of these but never had to face them in battle. Not tonight, please.
“You had a long day? A long day with that ‘secretary’ of yours no doubt!” These were no longer pain fairies, they were too big! Giant winged monsters, dark black and mottled red started to zip into the room. Their ponderous leathery wings joining the lighter, higher notes of their cousins.
I spared a glance back at Michael, still sleeping the sleep of the innocent. I would not fail tonight. The resentment worms had started to work their way up the edge of the bed. It was too much. Too much for just me. I would have to call upon the magics that I knew were running out. It was a scarce resource but I had to keep going and against this onslaught? I needed it.
Muttering a word I tapped into Michael’s sleeping form, shunting down through his memories I dug and dug for an unused memory.
There were precious few left for my needs. Most had already been drained in previous battles. The Slugs were getting closer, on the blanket now, oozing their sightless way towards Michael’s sleeping form. The aerial assault was not stopping, I kept digging through his memories, there had to be something left!
There! I found it. It was a bright and sunny Saturday. Michael was about 5 and Nancy, his sister was 7. It was a family bbq down by the river and they spent the day playing cricket with a tennis ball and bat from a plank of discarded wood.
Trust and Faith burst into brilliant light, lit by Love. They flashed down and severed the leading head of the Resentment Slug clean off. For a moment the onslaught paused in the face of this new found power. I didn’t wait, couldn’t wait, winding my way quickly through the last of the slugs, their filthy tar like blood leaving streaks on my blades. I had to finish it now before they realised that I had almost tapped Michael’s memories dry.
Outside though, I knew it would not last. There were no lies being brought into existence. Ohh God no, he couldn’t be could he? I shook my head despairingly. Then I hear the soft ‘Whump’ of what should have been Truth angels. But I knew these would be twisted and dark.
“Yeah. I was.” Paul whispered out. “Stacey never yells at me. She loves me as a man. I don’t have to put up with her bitching at me all the time.”
What should have been glorious incarnations of light brought forth via Truth did not appear. Instead they were deformed versions, their wings dripping gore, their faces transfigured and horrible. They flew not with their swords of Truth and Honour but with Viciousness and Hate. They were coming straight for Michael.
Steadying my grip on Trust and Faith I was ready to bring battle. My fur was missing in so many places. My stitched arm was barely holding on. I had lost an ear at some point in the fight but I don’t remember when. The dark ichor from the slugs was eating into my stuffing. I would win this fight for Michael as I had done so many countless nights before.
Then I heard Mary crying.
More and more winged beast joined the fray. I knew then that I would have to draw on the dark powers. They were shown to me one night by the Great Pillow Lion. That night when Paul and Mary had fought for hours. When they were both crying. We were lost when the Great Pillow Lion had turned to me and said:
“I am going to show you something now young warrior. I pray you never have to use it. To draw on it too deeply is its own kind of death.”
I needed that power now. I had drawn too much from Michael, he had no reserves left. The ichor was covering the blades, dulling their fiery glow. I closed my eyes and drew deeply. I could feel it, the black welling up and covering not just the swords but myself, my whole body. Filling in the missing shreds of my fur. I felt murky and soiled. I drew deeper and hardened myself to it, ready to use the dark power of Denial.
I stuck true but the glory of victory was not there, each sprite, each fairy that I destroyed just felt like another defeat. Michael was murmuring behind me in his sleep. Mary was crying and Paul was much too quiet.
I could not keep this up. Even with the mighty power of Denial I was failing, I was slowing down. I couldn’t do it. I was going to fall. A massive hit left me staggering and I fell to my knees. With a great cry the horde knew I was beaten as Mary continued to sob. Paul was saying something but it was lost behind the cacophony of the sound of victory.
As I felt my fur being torn apart I struggle to turn and look once again at Michael’s sleeping form. I was done. I just hope that I had done enough, I had shielded his childhood as much as I could. Maybe I would end up in the Great Box in the Attic.
Mary uttered the words that would summon my death, I heard her clearly.
“I want a divorce”. Then it all went dark as I felt what I had been defending for so long, die. I felt Innocence die.
“What?” exclaimed Paul.
“You heard me you bastard. I want a divorce!”
They both froze when they heard from behind the cracked door a sleepy “Mr Gumpus? Mr Gumpus where are you?”
“Go to sleep!” Paul barked.
Mary and Paul both watched the door. It slowly creaked open to show Michael rubbing his eyes in his little Thomas the Tank Engine pyjamas. He stared blearily at them both, then asked.
“Whats a divorce?”