The Mangled Little Listeners

I want the press to know about this. Thus far no one has believed what I have said, and I am well aware that my sanity has come into question - even with myself. But I refuse to denounce my claims, and write it all off as nothing more than a figment of my imagination. The effects seem too real, and the matter of the body reminds me of just how real that frightful time was.


  It had begun slowly at first, I heard scurrying everywhere I went, and I would constantly find many of my belongings hidden in dark and unlikely places: pens, keys, spare change, small articles of clothing, tid bits of food; it seemed to matter little. Initially I had suspected the trickery of my young daughter Charlotte, whom had recently developed a liking for grabbing things she wasn't supposed to, and I likened the disappearances to being the newest stage to her kleptomania.


  However, the development of some of her toys and knick-knacks going missing added a strange wrinkle to the matter, and my wife expressed it as 'Our own forgetfulness', and for a time we put it off as nothing outside of a minor inconvenience. but as time progressed, the once bemusing jinx became a definite source of frustration in our relationship, and when my wallet went missing from my desk I became furious. Not only had it contained a significant amount of money, but also the majority of my licenses, identification, and credit cards.


  Perhaps my reaction had not been reasonable when I stormed about the house, searching in vain for the wallet, and cursing fluently all the while. In the end, fatigue overcame my frustration and I resolved to begin the wearisome act of recovery tomorrow if nothing turned up. I apologized to my wife and daughter, and kissed them both in turn, vaguely conscious of a soft scratching sound from the above floor.


  I did not find my wallet that day, or the next, and so I began the task of recovering my lost property. Numerous phone calls were made, and my mood was not improved by the expected time frame of one-to-two weeks was given for the various debit and credit cards, not to even make mention of the monetary fee and legal documents to fill so that I could regain my licenses and identification cards.


  By the end of the day, body and mind taxed, I was scarcely able to climb into bed, and was nigh comatose when Anberlin came in from reading to our daughter. Fearing she may have been upset with my continued stress, I feigned sleep as she began to undress for bed. She then slowly slid into the bed, cuddled up to my still form, and easily drifted to sleep.


  By the read of my clock, it was several hours later when my wife was frantically shaking me awake, a terror edging her voice in a tense whisper of 'Mark, wake up! I- I hear something in Charlotte's room!'


  Dazedly waking to her words, my bleary mind couldn't quite piece together what she was saying.


'Mark! The baby!'


  Slowly I gained my feat, raising a consolatory hand 'Shhh, Anberlin, I'll go check. Calm down sweetheart.' Wearily, I walked towards our door which stood slightly ajar, and allowed it to creak noisily open to warn the most likely non-existent intruder. Following close behind, Anberlin reached out for the comfort of my arm as we made our way down the moonlit hall.


  Indeed, I could hear some faint scratching sound as we approached the room, but the source of the sound seemed reassuringly small, and the image of a small rodent or other small woodland creature that had managed to enter the house flitted through my mind.


  Throwing open the door, and snapping on the light, I caught sight of some small furred creature flee cat-like past me, causing both me and my wife to expel startled screams. Quickly, I rushed to the side of Charlotte's crib to ensure the woodland intruder had done her no harm, and was relieved to find her fine, other than a wide eyed look at having been woke so suddenly. Reaching down to lift my daughter out of the crib, I eyed the room apprehensively for a method of entry the pest could've used to enter upon our rest.


'I believe I've figured out where our things are going Anberlin; we have a pest problem it would seem.'


  Kissing Charlotte on the forehead, whom in turn nuzzled me affectionately, I decided to bring her back to my room with me. 'Come on sweetheart, the rat, or whatever that was, isn't going to do us any harm.'


  Apparently consoled by my words, Anberlin went with Charlotte and I back to our room where the three of us spent a comfortable, silent night together. The farthest thing from my mind was just what would develop of my supposed rat infestation.


  Upon waking the next morning I decided to take my family into town for a shopping trip. Both for the reason of the usual food and necessities, but also to obtain a supply of rat traps and bait to use against the intruders. After procuring a half a dozen of the traps, and a small amount of cheap meat to use as bait I returned to Anberlin, who was studiously examining a row of plush teddy bears with Charlotte, whom was absolutely enthralled. Since birth, she had been positively in awe of anything plush with big eyes and a round figure, as could be expected of any child.


  Looking at Anberlin and Charlotte, I knew it would be hopeless to try and leave without one of the toys, so picking up my smiling little girl I asked 'Which one would you like sweety?' And within a heartbeat she was cooing and pointing towards a small chocolate coloured plush monkey in a pose that made it seem to reach out to hug her back. Gingerly picking up the toy, we proceeded to check-out.


  The drive home came uneventfully, and I left Anberlin and Charlotte to play with her new prize while I stalked about the house setting traps, and continuing to search for the intruder, or any friends he might have in hiding. After arranging the last of the traps, I went to Charlotte's room once more to engage in the game of make believe they had well under way. The game continued on for several minutes until a sudden shrill and unnatural screeching pierced the warm and happy mood surrounding the familial play time.


  Swiftly I rose and made a dash towards the source of the continued screech. Upon entering the kitchen, at the origin of the sound it suddenly stopped and I saw the trap lay bloodied in the shelf corner where I had left it, mangled scraps of fur and flesh decorated the bar, but both bait and captive were absent. Examining a tiny trail of blood from the trap, I traced the path to a small hole in an upper corner of the cupboard, where it appeared to lead within the walls of our house.


  Approaching nervously as she shudderingly glanced over my shoulder, with Charlotte in her arms, Anberlin asked 'Did you kill it?'


'I don't think so, look here, the blood moves over there... maybe that's where the nest is?'


  Shivering in disgust, Anberlin walked away with Charlotte, presumably to resume their game. Wondering at the failure of the trap, I examined the mechanism thoroughly for faults before resetting it. Then, I proceeded to clean up the blood with a damp rag, rubbing furiously at the viscous stain.


  Through out the day, the rustlings and scratches became more incessant, and the traps went off several more times. but never again was there blood or yowl to at least let me know I had scathed the creatures. Worried about the unsanitary conditions of an infestation as seemed to be in motion, I made swift action in calling the local exterminator.


  After haggling prices over the phone, they determined to send one of their employees over that very evening to deal with the problem. After thanking them for their promptness, I hung up the phone and left to inform Anberlin of the good news.


  Presuming her to still be with Charlotte, I walked in to find my daughter alone on the floor playing with an assortment of plush animals, her prized monkey in her cooing hands. Or so I believed, until the "toy" squirmed about in her hands and made a strange gurgling sound before leaping out of her hands and slinking amongst her toys.


  Caught off guard with the sudden appearance of the pest I ran forward and kicked it as hard as I could, sending its tiny body flying through the air and crashing into the wall. Alarmed at my violent action, Charlotte immediately began to scream and it didn't take long before Anberlin was in the room attempting to console her.


'What's wrong baby girl? Please tell mum. Mark, what happened?'


'I don't know she was -'


'What do you mean you don't know? You were standing right there!'


'I don't know, there was something in here, so I kicked it and she started crying. Look over there by the wall and you should see it.'


  Then, I walked with her to the wall I had kicked it to, and she gasped as we came upon the body of the strange little creature. Admittedly, there was something childishly adorable in the body: with its massive eyes and ears, soft brown fur, and a body shape and appearance somewhere between a kitten and a monkey. The tail was at least twice as long as the rest of the body, and appeared to be quite muscular in a wiry, feline sort of way. Closer examination revealed a secondary and tertiary set of ears at the top and base of the skull, as well as formidable looking hooked claws, and needle-like teeth. Adorably fearsome as the creature was, it also appeared to be quite dead, and shaking, I retrieved the corpse to show the exterminator when he arrived, hopeful of his knowledge on the genus of the creature.


  Again Anberlin returned to consoling our daughter so that I could exit the room without her seeing the body. After secreting the body in a box near the front door, I returned to Anberlin and Charlotte, whom had since forgotten what she was upset about and had resumed playing with the actual monkey toy, and was laughing joyously as she pretended to dance with it. Smiling at the game, I decided it was best if I excluded myself for the time being and went to the living room to wait for the exterminator to arrive and solve the issue.


  I must've fallen asleep in the recliner because it seemed only a moment passed before I was roused to the door by a definitive and rythmic knocking. Shambling to the door in my drowsy state, I found a large, slightly balding, and heavily bearded man waiting for me, introducing himself as "Stan the exterminator man, at your service.' and grabbed my hand in a mighty shake.


  Chuckling at the mock formality, I led him into the entryway and announced I had killed one of the creatures and thought he should see it.


'From rats, to moles, to voles, I'm sure whatever you've got I've seen before.'


'I'm gonna have to disagree there Stan, I think you're gonna want to see this.'


'Alright, if you say so bud.' He chuckled as I walked over to the box and presented it to him.


'Take a look inside, I've never seen anything like it. Definitely not in Ontario.'


'Jesus Christ!' He exclaimed upon opening the box, nearly dropping it in surprise 'What in God's name is that thing?'


  Peering into the box with him, the sight was no less strange even knowing what to expect, perhaps even more ungodly the longer we looked. Letting out a hissing breath between his teeth, I could hear Stan sucking on his tongue as he examined the body.


'Okay, you got me beat. I ain't ever seen an'thing like that. But I'm sure I can kill 'em for ya same as anything else. After all, this little fella's dead as can be.'


'So you have no idea what it is?' I questioned, dreading the oh so expectable answer.


'No idea there, but I s'pose I should git to gittin' rid of 'em.'


'Alright, anything you need me to do?' I asked, eager to get the process underway.


'Nothing really, just git anyone or anything outa there you don't want dead. By the level of infestation you described, and the look o' them little beasties, gassing's probably the best thing for 'em. By the way, a friend of mine may be capable of identifying that thing for you. He's a biologist of sorts, strange man, always going on about other worlds, and demons. John, I believe his name was. I'm sure he would be interested in such a strange creature.'


'I'll keep it in mind.' I called back as I made my way deeper into the house to usher my family out to the lawn.


'Come on girls, lets go play outside." I announced gently as I entered the room 'Stan wants to have a look around. He says he can stop our things from going bye-bye Charlotte!'


'Up!' she exclaimed excitedly, and gurgling happily she whispered 'Bye-bye Charlotte.' as I lifted her up into my arms. We walked out the front door, nodding to Stan as he donned his gas mask and spray gear as he entered the main of our house.


'I'll finish up as quick as possible here folks, and you'll be good as new.'


'Thanks Stan." Anberlin and I said in unison, and walked off to the front yard of our property.


  I will never forget the event that happened next, and the horror that ensued. Doctors have tried to convince me I made it all up to justify crimes I supposedly committed, things they say that I did.


  As Stan was busy gassing our house, we began to hear scrabbling and unholy screeches coming from the inside of our home. The racket became nigh unbearable, almost as if the denizens of hell had taken up residence in our household to revel in the burn of their sacrilege. The very building itself seemed to shake in those moments during which I think I lost my mind.


  From the fragmentary memories and insipid thoughts I can recall, a disastrous event must have occurred. I have the strangest sense of lost time, as after seeing my home seem to shake my next memories of any clarity are of being in the back of a police cruiser in handcuffs, charged with the murder of my wife and child. The vague images in my mind make nearly no sense even now as I recall them. I see hundreds of small, furred creatures pouring out of my home, and I hear my wife scream as dozens of them head our way. Since that day, no one has ever seen my wife or child, therefore they are believed dead by my hands. The police arrived on the scene after a distant neighbor called when they heard screaming and smashing.


  My so called doctors tell me I was found sobbing on my lawn whilst holding a box clutched to my chest, and whoever approached me I would lash out at and scream: 'NO! They must have it! I must give back what is theirs so they give back what is mine!'


  But through any prompting, I would not disclose who "they" were, and as such I was deemed insane and blamed for the crime. It wasn't until recently however, that the box clicked, and I know now who did it. Those damned creatures, those.... Little Listeners..... They took my family because of my threat to them, because of their kin that I killed: they wanted things even. My family is in the clutches of those things, as imprisoned as I am in this asylum, and I need out to bring the body back, to bring them home! MY ANBERLIN, OH, MY CHARLOTTE!


  But who listens to the mad man...... Right?......... RIGHT?!