(Finished) Being eaten by a monster -- (Author) feetintrouble

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Author: feetintrouble
Timestamp: Jan 14, 2023 at 7:10 PM
Content: Here is my story of being in the charge of a caregiver Miss Rachel who likes to tell "magic stories", using a blindfold to enhance a little's imagination. This is not something I have actually experienced, but I long to do so! The little in this story is about four years old, loves scary stories, and is curious about the world.

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Miss Rachel specialised in imagination play. She had a large nursery which was full of things to appeal to littles: a high chair, a changing table, a crib, a whole wardrobe of dressing up clothes, lots of toys. One corner of the nursery was the “storytelling corner”, with shelf after shelf of picture books, and a nice soft rug to sit on. While Miss Rachel read a story to me, I would sit cross-legged on this rug. She would sit on a nearby chair, holding up the book so that I could see the pictures. I liked to listen to scary stories, I enjoyed feeling tingles of terror as I listened to stories about children getting lost or kidnapped.

The best kind of stories were Miss Rachel’s “magic” stories, for which I could really imagine that something was happening to me. For these, Miss Rachel would bring out a “magic scarf”: she had several of these which were very long, very soft, slightly stretchy, and in pretty colours. She would tie the magic scarf snugly over my eyes so I could not see a thing, and spin me round, so I would not know where I was in the nursery. She would make me wait a few minutes before beginning the story, with soft music in the background, so that the feeling of being in the dark in an unknown place would start to sink in. As she told me the story, I would hear and feel things to make me feel that I was actually in the storyland world. She had told me a story about flying into the air while I sat in a seat suspended from a frame, which she swung and lifted up to make it feel as if I was flying. I loved these stories: even though being blindfolded was scary, I would always feel as if I was actually there, and I would quickly forget that I couldn’t see anything. Sometimes I would drift into a trance-like state, but she would always bring me back to the real world with great care, talking softly to reassure me.

That morning, as a non-magic story she had read me the story of the Gingerbread Man, who ended up eaten up by a sly fox. As I saw the last picture of the gingerbread man’s legs disappearing into the fox’s mouth full of teeth, I wondered out loud what being eaten up by a fierce creature was really like. When I said this, Miss Rachel looked thoughtful for a moment, and told me that if I was a very brave boy indeed, I would be eaten up by a hungry animal before this day was out, for today’s magic story.

“What kind of animal will it be?” I asked.

“That’s for me to know, and you to find out,” she said, which was her usual reply if I asked her questions about what would happen in a magic story.

“Will I see the monster?” I asked, even though I knew what the answer would be.

“Of course not, you silly little boy, you’ll be blindfolded. For this story, you’re going to wear your lovely sharky slippers.”

Usually, she made me go barefoot for magic story time, so that I could feel things with my feet, or walk in water, sand, outside on grass, or even in something slimy. But I loved the sharky slippers: they were big and fluffy, and my feet actually went into the sharks’ mouths, which were full of fabric teeth, so I could look down and see my feet being eaten up.

“Let’s put you in your playpen,” she said, “and I will fetch your sharky slippers.”

The playpen was a wooden enclosure in the corner of the nursery, with toys inside. It had a low barred roof, so that when I was inside, I could not stand; only sit or crawl. I was not usually allowed to be left unsupervised in the nursery, so she would sent me to the playpen whenever she needed to leave the room. Knowing my place, I crawled in, and hoped that Miss Rachel would forget to close the door; but this hope was in vain as moments later, the door was shut, and locked fast with the little key which hung from Miss Rachel’s waist, so that I was no more able to escape than a real baby in a playpen.

“While you’re in there, I have a little puzzle for you; and you can have a look at the monsters which are waiting to gobble you up,” she said, with an evil note in her voice, and smiling a horrible smile. From the toy box, she produced a wooden board, with pieces which fitted into it; she propped this up in front of the playpen, so I could have a good look at it, but it was too far away for me to reach, even by stretching my arms between the bars. On these pieces were pictures of wild animals: a lion, a crocodile, a wolf, a huge snake curled around a tree, an elephant, a bear, a tiger, and a shark. All of these were depicted with their mouths open, showing their sharp teeth. As I watched my caregiver leave the room, I sat there, starting to feel the tingles of fear about being eaten up by a huge monster.

When I heard her footsteps a few minutes later, she entered the room, carrying my shark slippers. “The sharks are swimming up to eat your feet, your playpen will not protect you!” she said dramatically, moving them towards me in a threatening motion, waving them from side to side, like swimming fish. Inside the playpen, I backed away, as the sharks swam between the bars, and headed towards my bare feet with crunching noises. Within moments, my feet were in the sharks’ bellies, and my caregiver knelt down in front of the playpen.

“Are you ready for me to blindfold you up, little one?”

I nodded.

“Are you scared about being eaten?”

“A bit,” I mumbled.

“You should be,” she said, and from behind her back she produced a brightly coloured canvas drawstring bag. “Put your hand in the bag, and pick a magic scarf.”

She only had the bag open a little, so I could not see inside. I reached through the bars of the playpen, plunged my hand into the bag, and drew out the first scarf I could feel: this one was made of fleecy black material with coloured stars.

“Ah, good choice, that’s my newest one,” she said, taking it from me, and unlocking the playpen door. “Out you come, kneel here, and start counting; you’ll be blind before you get to ten,” she said, pointing to a spot on the floor.

Counting was the traditional beginning to the magic story. I positioned myself as I was told, and began counting slowly, the way I always did, while she moved behind me. Before I got to five, I had a fleeting glance of the coloured stars on the scarf before everything turned black, and the scarf was tightly tied, covering my eyes. I tried to resist the magic, but it was no use: I was blindfolded and could not see a thing. Miss Rachel told me to stand up, spun me round in both directions, walked me to a different place in the room, and told me to sit cross-legged on the floor; I did not know which part of the nursery I was in. I heard soft creepy music being played, and the sound of the wooden pieces of the puzzle landing on the carpet in front of me, as if it had been tipped upside down.

“For this story, you do not have to do anything unless I tell you,” she told me. “Just sit there, relax, and take what comes. Before the story begins, you have to do the animal puzzle,” she added. “Put the pieces in their right places; and whichever animal you put in last, will be the one that eats you up.”

She had often got me to do puzzles like this one with my eyes covered, but this was the first time she had done it as part of story time. I felt around for the pieces in front of me: they each had a knob in the centre to make them easy to pick up, which also meant I could tell which was the top of the piece. I felt each space in the board with one hand, and each piece with the other: the lion’s mane had jagged edges, so it was easy to place. I worked my way through them, relaxing into my task; and finally, I came to the last one. I tried to work out which animal it was from the shape, but my visual memory had now faded into the blackness, and I had no idea; so I placed it in the board, and awaited my fate as the music of the jungle became louder, and now it was accompanied by the sounds of insects flying, birds chirping, and animals roaring in the distance.

“Once upon a time, a little boy became lost in the jungle,” Miss Rachel said in her soft storytelling voice, although this time it had a sinister edge. “He wandered for days, surviving only on the fruit fallen from trees, and the water in rivers. Finally, he was so tired that he could walk no more; and while he sat there, guarding his small supply of food, his eyelids drooped, and he fell asleep. And while he snored, the creatures of the jungle knew that fresh meat was waiting there for them.”

I felt myself breaking out in a cold sweat, wondering what was going to happen next. I opened and closed my eyes under the scarf, but the magic of the scarf meant I was well and truly blind, and not a chink of light reached my eyes. Suddenly I jumped, as I felt movement on the floor near my bottom. Something long was squeezing through the small gap between my bottom and the floor, and was now starting to wrap itself around me. I began to wonder if I had chosen the snake; this was soon confirmed by hissing noises.

“A sssssnake discovered the little boy: not a viper, not a cobra or even a poisonous snake, but a boa constrictor,” said my narrator, in a low whisper. “The snake wrapped itself around the little boy, and gave him a loving squeeze.

I felt almost paralysed with fear as the snake continued to work itself around me, all around my chest, over my arms, pinning them to my sides. It did not matter to me what Miss Rachel might have been using to create this effect: the magic scarf had turned me into a frightened little boy, alone in the jungle, about to be squeezed and devoured.

“The massive snake ensnared the little boy in its coils, its head protruding from near the boy’s neck. It then turned its head around, looked its prey full in the face, opened its massive mouth full of teeth, and began to eat: chomp, chomp.”

These last two words were uttered slowly, and I felt something sharp pressing into my shoulders, my chest and my back, and down to my stomach. I wanted to wriggle free, but I knew I was doomed; I stiffened and hoped that I would be killed quickly. A tiny part of my self knew that I could escape this nightmare at any moment with my safeword, but I trusted Miss Rachel implicitly, and I felt totally caught up in my situation.

“The snake took bites out of the little boy’s body, drank his blood, and finally opened its massive mouth, showing all its teeth, and waved its forked tongue; then it took a big gulp, a big swallow; and the little boy was gone for ever. The snake waved its body into the air in triumph.”

At this point came a sensation I was not expecting: the ground seemed to be rising around me, tightening all around my body, enveloping me as if I was in a cocoon, squeezing me even more; and it seemed as if it was lifting me into the air, and swaying from side to side. My head was ablaze with a mixture of fear, but I also felt strangely relaxed. It did not matter to me what was really happening outside the blindfold; I almost felt that I had achieved my objective of being eaten alive by a fierce monster. Through the monster’s body, I could hear the music becoming louder, rising to a dramatic climax.

I was inside the snake’s body. I did not know if I was dead or alive. I do not know what happened in the next few minutes, but I felt that I was once again on solid ground, and the enclosure around me loosening. I still could not see a thing, but I now felt much more aware of the blackness before my eyes. The sinister music had now changed to a softer, calming tune, and I could feel Miss Rachel holding my hand in hers.

“That is the end of the story. How are you, after being eaten up by a snake?” she asked, in her kind voice, very different from the rasping voice she had used for this story.

I mumbled that I was fine; I felt that I was waking up from a terrible nightmare, yet at the same time I felt a serene calm, as I often did at the end of magic story time.

“Now you know the rules, you have to keep the scarf on while the magic wears off,” she said, “but when you are ready, I would like you to crawl forwards a little way, in the direction you are facing.”

I don’t know how long I sat there to gather my thoughts, but after a while I did as I was told. I could hear things being moved about, before my caregiver told me that it would soon be time to remove the magic scarf.

“I have dimmed the lights in the nursery,” she told me. “When you are ready to see again, promise me that you have closed your eyes, before I untie the scarf.”

I nodded my head.

“Keep your eyes closed,” Miss Rachel ordered. I felt the scarf being loosened, and falling away; and at once I could see redness through my eyelids.

“Let’s count slowly to twenty, and then you can open your eyes. One… two…”

I joined in the counting, and when we reached twenty, I opened my eyes. My vision was blurry at first, but then I saw the nursery: I was looking towards the playpen. I glanced around for any sign of the snake, or the props that she might have used, but there was nothing: the nursery was as tidy as it always was.

“Where’s the snake?” I asked.

“It was all in your mind, created by the magic of the scarf,” she said, with a knowing smile. “I hope you’re looking forward to your next magic story.”