Dede Elgy

Carter doesn’t like it when I call him “Daddy” when we’re making love. He says it’s creepy. Sometimes I can’t help myself, though. Sometimes things are too intense. Like, just the other night I was bent over his knee as he delivered slap after slap on my tender little bottom and I whispered, “spank me more, Daddy.” Then he stopped and stood me up and lectured me about how he doesn’t like that word. I nodded and we went on with our fun.

This past Tuesday, I was home alone. I get lonely when Carter’s at work. There was nothing on TV and I was bored and not feeling great. Plus, it doesn’t help that our house is old and makes weird noises all the time. It can be frightening. Pupperdelle, our big German Shepherd, helps with that a little. I know nothing can hurt me when he’s around.

A few hours before Carter got home, I was petting Pupperdelle when his ears perked up and he started to growl. I got scared. I thought it might be the Monster.

See, Carter and I do a lot of roleplaying — in case you haven’t figured that out yet. He knows I’m scared of stuff like monsters and one of the games we play exploits that fear. Whenever we’re being physical, he makes me be quiet. Otherwise, he says, “the Monster will hear you.”

It’s stupid. I get that. But all couples play games. The only thing is that Carter and I never stop playing. We text back and forth all day. He’ll send me dirty pictures of himself and I’ll send some of my own right back. Sometimes I’ll leave filthy messages in his voicemail and he’ll text back how much he loved them, but tells me to be very quiet “because the Monster might be listening in.”

It was after a message like that when Pupperdelle started to growl as I pet him. The hair on the back of my neck stood up.

“What is it, Pupper?” I asked, as if the dog could reply. I heard thumps coming from below. The blood drained from my face. The sounds grew louder and I realized they were footsteps — footsteps coming up the stairs.

I sat back on the bed, wide-eyed and frightened. The door opened. Staring at me from the doorway was the Monster we’d just been texting about. My phone fell in my lap.

“Who are you talking to?” the Monster asked. Pupperdelle’s growling stopped. He walked up to it and began licking its hand.

I didn’t respond.

“I came home from work early to see how you’re feeling. You’re supposed to be resting and getting better, not talking to your friends. I don’t want you missing another day of school.”

The Monster crossed the room and put its hand on my forehead.

“You don’t have a fever, so that’s good.” It studied my phone in my lap. The room grew cold and I felt a noose of claustrophobia wrapping around my neck. I was about to panic when it said, “well since you’re up, text your father and see what he wants for dinner.” It turned around and walked away. I waited until its footsteps had faded.

Relief flooded through me. I’d never been caught by the Monster before. I couldn’t believe how close I’d come to something terrible happening to me. My heart was pounding in my chest so hard I could see it through my shirt. I picked up my phone and tried to type, but my shaky hands could only produce gibberish.

I took a series of deep breaths. They helped. Slowly and methodically, I began typing out a message to Carter.

Me: Omg I saw the Monster. I was so fn scared. It almost got me. I can’t stop shaking.

Carter: What? Are you okay? Is it gone?

Me: Yeah. I’m fine. Just spooked.

Carter: Oh man.

Carter: It’s okay, baby. I’ll take care of you later tonight, I promise. But I gotta go, okay?

Me: Okay. Thanks. I can’t wait to see you.

Me: But wait.

Me: Mom wants to know what you want for dinner.

11 Replies to “Dede Elgy”

  1. Oh my god, this was next level; sickeningly unsettling. I loved reading it though, but (and I do hope you want constructive criticism) it was very clear what was going on before the final reveal. It was horrible and gut wrenching and I know it’s gonna keep me wondering: how old is she? Because if she’s like 20 then that’s gross but at least it’s all consenting adults. But I get the feeling she’s about 13 and that makes it a million times worse.

    Max, iia, you are the reason I get up in the morning. I’ve got nothing in my life, so I read all day, and I read the top stories on nosleep and I wait for you to post.

    I really hope you see this and aren’t too freaked out by how much I rely on you (the few months you posted nothing were terrible). Have you ever written a book? Because a book based on your ‘far too’ stories would be spell binding. I’d buy 5 copies so I could have 2, and then I could give my family some dark, creepy stories better than Stephan King.

          1. Just googled; that wasn’t so bad! Nasty and gross, but I know some people like that. Just as long as they actually aren’t abusers I don’t even think it’s that bad… Does that make me the messed up one? Haaahh….

    1. I’m so glad you enjoyed it, Cez. I don’t really know how old she is, but I doubt it’s 20. I think the ambiguity makes it creepier because you’re forced to think about it. As far as its predictability, I know. I think it’s more about the journey than the destination with this one, but for those who don’t see it coming, it’s a nice shot to the head.

      I’m working on a book now. 🙂

  2. Oh and by the way, I have an idea for a story I would love you to write, I think it’s an interesting idea but I’m not skilled enough to pull it off and I would be beyond honoured if you wanted to write it. I’ve tried but I just can’t do it justice.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *