Where the Wild Things Aren’t…

Getting home late has formed into quite a habit now, this is usually down to the horrendous Manchester traffic. As i get home i know the kids are already home, they’ve hopefully eaten and have began to settle.

As i walk through the front door, i usually have the mentalist bounding up to the door to greet me with a hug, a high five or a scowl depending on her mood. But today, im left alone, void of any contact with the mentalist. Strange i think to myself, maybe shes getting older.. i give out a shout for both the brats to judge their location. My eldest is probably watching another re-run of top gear, a half hearted shout back from the lounge confirms my suspicions. But no response from the mentalist, worry hasnt kicked in as yet more… curiosity.

Dumping my work gear, i make may way to the foot of the stairs. Giving another louder shout to the mentalist, this time i hear a muffled ‘Yeah.. daddy?’

Judging by her tone shes either preoccupied with her ipad,  in her tent  or sick. Not a good sign i think as i head up the stairs to her room, calling out to her as i climb “you ok..?”, no response just a slience, definatly not good i think to myself.

As i walk in to the room, surrounded by the usual array of teddies and clothe littering the floor, i glance to the bed… empty.  I look towards the tent in the corner, and see movement, Bingo! I get to my knees part the openining and crawl inside all the while thinking how this cant be good for my knees. i crawl in and sit, i have the mentalist sat opposite blanket in hand surrounded by an army of teddies.

“Well hello there, nice to see you, do you come here often?” i ask. She sits up giving a little giggle, and then promptly sits back cluthchjing her blanket. I can tell shes troubled, her furrowed brows give it away. “So… you want to talk about it?” i begin as she looks at me, playing with the ribbons attached to the ends of her blanket. “No daddy…” she replies, i try again ” Go on honey, tell me… whats wrong..” She looks at me,  replying with “don’t say his name.. ” i instantly respond with “Whos name??”  She just nods her head. Now my mind starts working overtime,  are we heading down the  paranormal, does the mentalist have the ‘Gift’ the ‘Eye’ the ‘power’ the ‘sight beyond sight’  ?!?!

I ask again, this time a little more firmly “who’s name??” she sits up and whispers “Max..” to which i respond who in gods name is Max?!?! prompting the mentalist to burst into tears, “…I’m afraid.. daddy… He’s going to come for me!!?!” she says sobbing loudly. so after much consoling, comforting and reassurances that she’s safe and no one is coming for anyone. She begin’s to tell me her tale, a tale most intriguing, below is her account (not for the faint hearted)…

I was sitting in class (at school) and a big boy came in (sobs) he had horns.. (sobs) and he had claws .. he was.. he was jumping around looking for (sobs) his crown. He kept digging and looked in my drawer,  he found it in the reading corner, he put it on and then went to play outside (continued sobbing)

“So..” i begin , “why do you think this Max is coming for you ??” which is promptly responded to with “…Don’t say his name!?!”. Okay i think, this is basically scaring her, but  a boy with horns? A crown? rings a bell, so i ask her a few further questions when she’s settled down. ” So my mentalist.. does this boy have monster friends?” looking at me a little intrigued she nods. With that i pull out my phone,  bringing up Google i show her a few pictures, “is this what the boy was dressed like?” She nods, about to cry again, so i leave it for a while. Letting her play and get on with her evening after reassuring her that no one is coming for her or buttons!

It turns out the class are soon to be reading Where the Wild things are which mainly consists of a young boy dressed in a furry onesie, retreating into his imagination for adventures with the wild things (monsters) which make the boy their king, hence the crown. Obviously the school decided to do a little role playing to kick start the class’s imagination, but may have back fired on some of them (or maybe just the mentalist)

Anyhoo, shes totally fine now,  luckily a movie was released not so long ago based on the book, i showed her the trailer and she now realises hes just an ordinary boy in a onesie ! (thank the lord!)

Does make me think though.. it would have been interesting to go down the paranormal path… or would it?

max_wild

Before i sign out, ive opened up a little sister site/blog. Where i will start to publish some of my works. Nothing too fancy, just the odd script or short story! so if you do like your short stories or like reading the odd script or two, please do come on down !

The site:

This is Mr J Signing out

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Where the Wild Things Aren’t…

5 thoughts on “Where the Wild Things Aren’t…

  1. Oh bless her, imagination is a creative, scary and wonderful thing! Great to see you on PoCoLo and all the best with the new site (don’t forget that I have Prose for Thought on Thursdays if you would like to link some of your work).

  2. Sarah Anne says:

    Aww, I loved this! Your writing is captivating, I can see where the mentalist gets her imaginative streak from! I hope she copes with the book ok.

    #pocolo

  3. Mama Herself says:

    It’s a fine line between giving the kids a thrill and scaring the crap out if them. When younger, my son freaked out about the Emperor’s New Groove, a fairly innocuous cartoon. He had nightmares about being turned into a lama. As you do.

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