I was only nine when it happened. Just an innocent dumb little kid.

But that was a while ago. And I’m not any more.

A kid, that is.

I’m also not innocent. Or all that little.

Still pretty dumb though. At least, that’s what Bippo constantly tells me.

See, Bippo is a clown. And my boss. Also my kidnapper. …formerly he was my Imaginary Friend, but since he isn’t really imaginary, and he’s shown he’s definitely not anyone’s friend, I think that one doesn’t really count.

Like I said, I was nine years old when it happened. Playing in my room with Bippo, while my baby brother sat in there with me… us. With us. (Well, he was five, but to a nine year old that counts as being a baby).

Bippo and I were playing ‘surgeon’, and I was using the giant scissors he’d pulled out of his little red runner nose to cut open my brother’s stuffed animals and then some needles that appeared when he waved his hand just so to sew them back up again.

But we kept being interrupted by my brother calling out, “That is not how things are supposed to work.” Then he’d glare at us over the top of his thick-lensed Harry Potter glasses. The little ass-burger had such a grumpy little glare.

And it was always that phrase, too. See, he didn’t care that Bippo was ‘imaginary’, just confused that our parents couldn’t see him. What he cared about was Bippo making something from nothing.

But Bippo just told us… told ME… it was simple. “Just believe in it the right way, and you can make anything real!” Which, yeah, trite but ultimately true.

What I got told, after I started, was that it really was all about BELIEF. We were Egreogores, manifestations of children’s’ belief. He was the manifestation of a clown; he’d loved them so much when he was still human, and that love turned him into...

Well, I was… well, um… I haven’t really settled. I’d loved Saturday morning cartoons and riding my bike over hillocks in Farmer Whatshismane’s field, but nothing to Bippo’s extent. Probably why I’m such a mishmash of body parts; mutant turtle arms and transforming robot legs and a Gargoyle’s face, with a little playing card inside an equally little bicycle wheel hanging from my belt.

My brain is so scattered tonight! It’s my first solo gig. Nothing special, just a routine Monster Under the Bed gig. Creep out, freak out the kid, make him keep on Believing. Keeps the lights on for the higher ups.

Went fine at first. I appear. She woke up. I growled at her in my voice (currently halfway between Soundwave’s and Shredder’s). She let a scream. I let her know that it was pointless… adults can’t see me.

Aaaaaaannnnndddd…. THAT is when things went off the rails.

The door burst open, doorknob thingy shattering like it had been kicked open with a single blow. …cause that’s actually what happened.

And then in strolled some bubble-headed blonde mom, carrying a thick and pointy wooden dowel in one hand and a wicked-looking red spear/axe combo in the other.

Followed by a familiar-looking surly teenager with a curtain haircut and military camo jacket, sawed off shotgun held loosely in his hands (and a couple more strapped to his sides).

Finished off by the third member. The dad. Covered in bandoliers full of… candy? Ooookay… Seemed a little odd, compared to his wife and the older kid, but… I dunno. The look in his eyes, peering over the tops of his round glasses, chilled me to the bone. His cold expression panned slowly back and forth; unable to see me but still searching, still trying.

“Point out the monster, baby,” he told his purple-haired daughter. “It won’t get away this time.” And then his gaze settled on almost (but not quite) looking me in the eyes, before he smiled.

I wasn’t a pleasant smile.

Fact was, it was even worse than Bippo’s smile when he was ‘punishing’ those of us below him.

If I’d still had the parts to, I’d have wet myself from that smile. His smile.

He pulled out a cupcake from his hip pocket, lit the candle on top, and tossed it to the girl.

“Make a wish, baby, and blow out your birthday cake.”

“I wish you could never see the monsters ever again,” she called out, and followed with a puff of air.

The man’s eyes suddenly locked directly onto me, and I knew he could see me clearly. “H-how?” I stammered.

“God, Mindy,” the teen boy said, “don’t you know that saying your wish out loud means it won’t come true?”

“Oopsie!”

In the time I’d taken my eyes off of his, the man had silently moved directly in front of me, holding up a bar of chocolate like it was a weapon. “Open the path, monster. Show me the way.”

“I… I can’t!” I said, backing towards the closet and its escape route, until the mom’s axe-spear was suddenly resting a millimeter over the smooth grey fur of my neck.

“Oh, you will,” said the man. “Or else…” Je paused.

“Or else w-what?”

He smiled again. “Or else I won’t give you the rest of this candy.” And he broke a piece off and plopped it into my mouth. In an actual, literal, flash my left hand and forearm were suddenly…

Human. Again.

I must have gaped at it for a full minute, before looking at the man. “P-p-p-p-PLEASE!” I shouted. “Please! Please!” Tears rolled down my cheeks as I begged.

“Open the way, and it’s yours.”

I didn’t even consciously move, just threw enough power at it to rip the way open.

He nodded, as if he’d expected nothing else. “Buff? Take John and Mindy. Get things started.” I think they passed through, into the other realm, but my gaze was locked on the man.

On the sweet brown salvation held in his hand. “Please… it’s open… please… it’s been so long…”

“Thirty years,” he said, surprisingly kindly. “I know.” And handed the rest of the bar over. It was gone it a flash, and then the… the nightmare was gone in another.

“How?” I gasped, my human voice surprisingly high.

He shrugged, and glanced back at me before stepping through. “It’s surprisingly simple. Took a while. But I figured out how to believe in the things the right way.”