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worldsinside:

Prompt: A child is kidnapped. Outraged, the monsters that live under their bed and in their closet vow to find them.

Eventually,
after an interminable length of time, the bedroom door clicked shut
and the muffled, heavy voices retreated down the hall and were gone.
The only sound left in the waiting silence was the skritch
skritch of a tree branch gently scraping against the window;
the only movement, the dancing shadows it cast on the pastel-blue
wallpaper, now gone pale and gray in the twilight. 

Nothing
disturbed the art supplies stacked neatly on the little child’s
desk, or the Duplo all put away in the plastic tub by the bed; no one
ruffled the crisply made bed or clutched at the large stuffed dog
that had been sat squarely in the middle of it. The room had become a
tableau, a time capsule, a museum piece that seemed as if it could
stand for years as a picture-perfect illustration of a child’s
bedroom forever unchanged by any children. 

Then
someone began sobbing loudly and messily and completely ruined the
effect.

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