Everyone knew the stories of monsters living under beds or inside wardrobes, but nobody Marle knew actually believed in them.
Marle believed. It’s hard not to believe in them when a monster reads you a story each night.
“Can I have ‘The Little Mermaid’ tonight?” she asked, tucked into bed.
The monster’s claw paused over the chosen book. “You’re not too old for fairy tales?” it asked, it’s voice gravelly and low.
“Nobody’s too old for fairy tales.”
“Very well.” The monster perched at the end of Marle’s bed, book in lap, and began to read. “Once upon a time….”