Ellyas, and Birdy lived a perfect life with their daughter until the arrival of the children. They were nothng like human, and they had the ability to possess typical, normal, and happy female children with every bloody scratch that they place upon them.
A mothers distrust in the daughter's fantastic tale is all that is needed for thr husband to turn on his wife, as the father searches for the ones that Bother the Children.
BOTHER THE CHILDREN
Monica Y. Russell
As the softness and warmth of mornings early invited itself into the Moyett home Ellyas moved quietly through the house towards his daughter Rayna's ajar bedroom door. He enjoyed the sight of her closed eyes, and peaceful even breathing which heavily contrasted with her pleasantly infectious, always busy, awake-time personality. Normally he would only linger for a moment by her bedside before heading back down the hall to his wife, but something he saw there drew him a little closer into his precious, brown sleeping beauty.
With puzzlement falling deeply behind his confused hazel-green eyes he bent down over her for a better look. "A scratch, it's a scratch," he whispered aloud while lightly touching around the slender bloody mark with unintentional, heavy fingertips, causing the sleeping eleven-year-old to turn and move away from her fathers wide, ashy hand.
Without rousing her he backed away, and went to his wife who was still fast asleep, buried behind a huge, thick sunflower comforter. He eased his down next to hers, while placing the roughness of his palm on the side of her resting face. He did that before bringing his sweet voice to one of her sweet, delicate ears. "Babe, Birdy, wake up. We gotta go to Rayna's room."
Slowly her lids fluttered open to see worry nakedly apparent all over his lovable, rugged features. She raised up on one elbow, and extended her free arm so she could use her fingers to shift the red curly, shoulder-length hair back from round her mistly blue eyes. With pasty , dry morning breath, and sleeps lingering residues thickening the sound of her usually elegant voice she asked, "What is something wrong with her?"
"No, not really, but she does have a nasty looking scratch on her face, and for the life of me, I can't figure out how in the hell she got it," he said though his words appeared to be in the form of a question to himself.
Annoyed she threw the upper part of her body back into the bed.
"El, I can't believe you woke me up for a scratch. You could have waited until I got up and brused my teeth before we discussed this?" she said with paltry irritation bleeding through her words for him.
"Birdy, please don't be angry with your paranoid, overprotective husband, O.K. just stay here and rest, I'll be back soon," he said while searching through the vast beauty of the oceans contained inside her azure, honest eyes. He was just looking for a little more understanding, and a lot less ennuye. It didn't take as long as he expected to spot pleasing hint traces of abstemious altrusim shinning up at him from her cerulean eyes.
"You know what El, I can never stay mad at you for very long because you're a sweet sensitive man, with a huge, kind heart that works too hard at the safekeeping of our daughter. You know I don't you're paranoid or anything, at least not anymore than the next concerned parent out there, but shit baby you're suffocating her with anxiety over a simple little scratch, and every other aspect of her life. All I want you to do is let our one and only angel breath a bit without you. Now give your sexy, half-naked wife a kiss before you head your handsome self back down that hallway again," she said before closing her eyes to wait for his cloying, obsequious lips to find hers.
He was so lucky to own such a beautiful wife, one who knew him so well, one who always, and constantly put up with his sometimes arduous, usually idiosyncratic comportment. Satisfied, and knowing that she wasn't at all mad at him anymore he placed a kiss full with appreciation, and passion to her gentle expectant lips. "I love you always," were his words, then he left her alone with the comfort, and warmth of his ardor still moving all over her like a dulcet rain.
Lying there she thought about how lucky she was to own such an attractive husband who she knew so well, one who treated her with enormous
Compassion, and a rare sincere kind of love that most woman are never lucky enough to find. So yes, she was going to wait where she was for his return, because he was worth it.
As he moved back down the hall again, he allowed her words of wisdom to roam freely throughout his very concerned thoughts. Deep down he knew she was right about everything, as she often was, so as he approached the doors threshold, heíd already convinced himself to only look in on her briefly before returning to his waiting wife. Oh, he had plans for her. He wanted to get into bed next to her magnificence, and make love, slow, and long.
Quickly he popped his head in the room. From where he was standing he couldnít see the scratch, and though tempted, he didnít move any further into the sleeping child. "It will keep," he said to himself. "Maybe she can fill me in, or tell me what happened when she gets up," he turned around, proud of himself, and his self-control. He was going to surprise Birdy by coming back so soon. He quickened his step a bit while anticipating the special treat he might receive for being such a "good boy" when his daughters voice echoed through the walls to his ears.
"Daddy, why do they bother us?
Her words snatched the swift away from his stride with haste. He stopped static as a warm, dizzy sensation plaited itself down his spine to lull within his concern for the safekeeping of their daughter.
Immediately he knew that her words for him had everything to do with that scratch on her face. He was into her well before his heart had the good fortune to beat again. He saw her body turned away from him. She was motionless, and facing the window when he approached her from behind. "Honey, Rayna whose been bothering you? Who gave you that scratch there on your face?" he asked as he moved around the foot of her bed.
Without turning a muscle, she said, "I already told you. They Daddy, they bother us," she was waiting for his sight to gaze upon the fear innocently masked as curiosity falling all down her plum shaped face.
He felt a numbing warmth rush to his temples with an angry brute force that damn near knocked him dead off his standings. He grasped firmly to her stable wooden bedpost as terrified tears of helplessness fell quietly down the beauty of his broad comely face.
He didnít know what to say, though he had some questions of his own that he was plenty anxious to ask her.
"Baby, listen to me very carefully, youíve got to tell me who "they" are, or I canít help you, and I live to help you," he said before sitting his massive frame down, to rest a small portion of his buttocks down on her frilly white pillowcase. He was facing away from her because he didnít want her to see the water moving down his face in a very heavy consistent pouring. He needed her to hold close to his strength. He wanted her to trust that he had everything under control, and all together. He had his eyes fixed squarely on the "POWER PUFF GIRLS" wallpaper behind her bed. He also had his right arm wrapped gently around her waist in the way that only a loving, caring father could successfully pull off while he listened with wide open ears to all of the things that the young child had been holding inside for almost two months.
"Daddy, they only came at night in the beginning. Iím not sure, but I think it started under my bed, but only after you, and mommy would be asleep, and the house was dark, and quiet. They didnít touch me back then, there was only this whole bunch of giggling, but Daddy, by the end of that first week they came out, and I would see there eyes. I would try my best to call for you Daddy, but they just wouldnít let me. Daddy, they stopped my screaming. Daddy, thatís when they began to bother me bloody with their hands. Now youíre going to have to look at all the places daddy."
It took every ounce of strength in him to turn his head towards her as he saw her shuffling around with the pants legs of her "Scooby Do" sleep time set. "The one on my face, the scratch, this is the first time they gave me a mark that wasnít covered by what I was wearing. Daddy, theyíre not careful anymore. Itís like, I think they want you, and mommy to know about them."
As he looked down at the deep troubling gouges placed all about her upper thighs, and lower legs he took in all of her distressing information. It went hard into his head, and heart before he opened his trembling lips to find out if heíd put his mind together into a little understanding of what she had just pressed down heavily onto his shivering shoulders.
"Baby, Rayna, youíre going to sleep in our room until this thing gets all figured out," slowly he drew his arm away from her and kneeled down beside the bed to peer at whatever he might find. What he saw was dark and crumbled looking. It was difficult for him to discern anything that was
"Daddy, why do they bother us?"