Hush now and listen. In the beginning there were monsters and the monsters were fine. They talked to her and played together and laughed when she laughed and stroked her hair with their claws when she cried. When scratches appeared in the woodwork, her parents pointed and demanded and eventually shouted so loudly the windows rattled in their frames. Words lay scattered on the carpet of her room.
The monsters tried their best, but the games they played were raucous and rambunctious and fun, fun, fun; they just couldn’t stop themselves – even when the curtains were torn down and the light fitting fell from above.
Hush now. No shouting. Now just a silence that sits in the room between her and the man with horn-rimmed glasses. Silence grows and the monsters are scared. They shrink away but it catches and eats them, tail to snout. Hush now and listen.