A Petrifying Scooby-Doo Encounter

What is the first thing that comes to mind when you think of a young child, perhaps seven or six years old? Sure, they can be quite cute. Sometimes, they develop crushes on the unsuspecting babysitter or that superhero who always seems to get the job done. Why? These types of people tend to make kids feel safe. Think about it, at the crack of dawn, Superman has always been watching over Metropolis and that sitter was spending her entire night taking care of the kid. What was not to like? These figures were counted as idols because they made kids feel safe and secure. But what happens when that gets taken away?

When I was six or seven, as suggested previously, I watched Scooby-Doos as fast as they hit the screen. It was what my sister and I loved and how we chose to fill the void in our free time. We rewatched the mysteries of Shaggy and Scooby, hoping beyond hope that Velma would fall for the, well, shaggy teenager. Of course, every episode featured a fearsome monster that a villain had conjured up to get our imaginations rolling.

That particular evening, the cliché of rolling thunder and crashing lightning seemed to be fulfilled. And, like every small child, I was in desperate need of a savior. My imagination was going wild. My thoughts were scattered. But one thing was for sure, standing in the dark hallway that seperated the room I had shared with my younger sister from the safe haven known as my parents' bedroom, a monster lurked.

It was not obscure or unseen, as if it had been from literature that fit with A House Taken Over or even Fall of the House of Usher. No, this creature was in plain sight. This monster that my imagination had taken straight out a Scooby-Doo movie was there, clear as day! Well, that is what I thought I saw. Electricity seemed to course its way throughout the ghastly figure as it loomed just out of reach. Neither the thin frame nor the diminutive height diminished the fear that had strickened me that night.

So, there I was. I had tucked myself into the deepest corner of my bed in the shadows where I knew that this beast would not catch sight of the frail quivering girl. For extra protection, I decided to to grab onto my stuffed bear, Teddy. There would be no going to Mommy or Daddy for help. I knew I would not survive the short sprint to their room. If I had yelled, surely the creature would have caught me before they came and saved the day. So, with no hope of rescue, I snuggled into my covers so that I was barely visible and drifted off into a light slumber, conscious of the monster that I just knew was hearing my every breath. Of course, there really had to have been a monster, but perhaps the storm was playing tricks on my young and overactive mind.