The Fairy in the Closet

Third place in "Invalid Item" 
Also featured in "Horror/Scary Newsletter (January 17, 2007)" 


I turned on my side to face the closet door. It was rattling. It’s your imagination playing tricks on you, I thought, go back to sleep. I read the clock; 12:05am. Five minutes ago that sound had only been a faint scratching. My first thought was the squirrels that occupied the house walls, but they couldn’t possibly have the strength to make the closet door shake that hard. I heard the faint clinking of metal on metal as something turned the light on in the closet. I sat up in my bed, back to the wall and knees hugged up against my chest. My hands, neck and back grew clammy. Instead of rattling came pounding now, sounding almost like a shoulder ramming against the door.

After three pounds the thin metal latch on the door snapped in two and the closet door swung open, light pooling into my dark bedroom. I squinted, and thought for a moment that my eyes were deceiving me. There stood my best friend, Morgan Robinette, but only looking to be as old as eight, with long curly black hair, and weighing around fifty pounds. She was corpse pale, and large wings composed of black leaves jutted from her back. She wore a tattered white nightgown that floated down to her ankles. Her eyes were large and dark and her pupils looked as though they were dilated. Surely this couldn’t be her. Morgan was safe at her house in Gilmanton, same thirteen year old Morgan, wingless, and with hair now straight and short from a new haircut after a curling iron had gotten tangled in it.

“Claire,” she whispered, “Come with me, I have something to show you,” her large dark eyes glimmered in the light for a moment, and I pulled my blue comforter up to my chin. “Come with me, Claire, I want to show you a magical land.” I let out a squeaky moan, trembling uncontrollably as I stared at a younger image of my best friend standing in my closet doorway at 12:10am. “Come with me, Claire,” she persisted, “Come with me.” I shakily shook my head. This couldn’t be happening. “Alright Claire, I’ll come back tomorrow.” She whispered.
Her spine-trembling stare didn’t leave my eyes until she turned her back to me and stepped into the closet. The closet door closed behind her, the latch eccentrically fixing itself and hooking back into the small metal loop. I heard the faint clinking of metal on metal as Morgan turned out the light. I stared at the closet door for the rest of night.


That’s how my mom found me the next morning, back to the wall, knees hugged to my chest and body trembling uncontrollably as I slowly rocked back and forth, eyes locked on the closet. I quickly glanced at the door to my room as mom opened it, shrinking further into the corner of my room on my bed. I whispered something quietly to myself. Mom gasped, hurrying over to my bed and asking what was wrong. She tried to comfort me by stroking my long brown hair. Nothing could comfort me. My eyes shot to the closet door as I continued to whisper to myself.

“What?” My mom asked, catching my almost silent words. My eyes jerked up to hers.

“There’s a fairy in my closet,” I whispered.

“Come on, Honey,” she said, tugging on my arm to pull me up. “Don’t be ridiculous!” I said nothing; didn’t even try to pull my arm from her grip.

“Claire, come on, get up,” she persisted. I still did not react.

Mom left me that day, left me to my staring at the closet door. She sent my father to try and bring me out of my state of insanity. He failed miserably, as did my mother. I didn’t go to school that day, and when Morgan called around 5:00pm, I took the phone and threw it at the closet door. It shattered, and I was glad. Mom picked up the remains of the phone and then silently left me again. Left me to my staring, left me to my waiting.


Morgan returned that night, as I knew she would. I sat staring at the closet door, silently rocking myself back and forth, when my sweatshirt that was hung on the wall fell down, exposing the gaping hole in the wall that lead into the closet. The light was off in the closet, but I could see Morgan’s large sinister eyes staring in at me.

“Hi, Claire,” she whispered, “will you come with me tonight? Come with me to the magical land?” She held the bottom half of the hole with both hands. “Come with me, Claire, come with me.” She was smiling tonight, and it was terrifying. I shakily shook my head. “Alright, Claire.” Morgan whispered. She stuck her head through the hole and poked it out into my room, those eyes never leaving mine. “I’ll come back tomorrow, Claire, that’s when you’ll come to the magical land with me.” She cocked her head slightly and smiled again, then pulled her head back into the closet and stepped back into the shadows, out of sight. Once again, I did not sleep and sat in the corner of my room on the edge of my bed, back to wall, knees hugged against my chest, blue comforter pulled up to my chin and staring with wide eyes at the closet door.


The next morning, mom went through the same routine of asking what was wrong, and once again, I answered,

“There’s a fairy in my closet,” and did not go to school, shattering yet another phone against the closet door when Morgan called early that night.
She sent a psychologist into my room after I smashed the second phone. I didn’t expect any less from her. He crouched down in front of me and observed for a while. His dark brown eyes board into mine, searching for a trace of answer. He was relatively handsome, with darkened skin and a grey suit and blazer that mentioned his hard torso. His wavy brown hair barely covered his ears. Finally he said,

“Hi Claire. I’m Dr. Setho.” He waited a moment for a reply. “Your mom told me that you had been sitting here for two days. You want to tell me why?” I stared straight ahead, not at him, but through him, to the closet. He turned and glanced at the closet.

“Is there something in there that’s bothering you?” he said, turning back to face me. “A fairy, maybe?” He stood and went to the closet, unlatching the lock. I pulled the comforter farther up and tried to scoot farther back into the corner. Dr. Setho watched me as he opened the closet door. He turned the light on and walked into the closet, turning around to face me.

“See, there’s nothing in the closet. No fairy. No monster.” No response. Setho checked his watch and quickly walked out of the closet, turning off the light and locking the door. He walked to my mom, who had been watching at the doorway. He talked to her in a hushed voice for a minute, and then disappeared into the hall. Mom stared at me for a moment, and then shut the door.


That night I sat in the same position as I had for the last two days and two nights. My stomach was deprived of food and water, my lips were chapped, and dark circles were lined along the bottom of my eyes. I wasn’t hungry, I wasn’t thirsty, and I wasn’t tired, I was terrified, terrified of the fairy in my closet. The shadows seemed larger and darker that night, as if something was watching me from them, and my make-do Whinny the Pooh nightlight seemed dimmer. Everything seemed darker, and when the clock struck 12:00am, something from behind the closet door quietly called my name.


“Clairrreeee,” Morgan called quietly, “It’s time, Claire, time to come with me, come with me to the magical land.” I hugged my knees tighter. Morgan’s face appeared in the hole almost as fast as the speed of light. “Come on, Claire, it’s time to go.” Her face disappeared again, and three small knocks came at the closet door. She flashed back to the hole, and then disappeared again, and three more knocks came. The light in the closet began to flash on and off, and I thought I faintly heard the playful laughter of children. She played with my mind for five minutes, flashing from the hole, knocking slowly on the door three times, and flashing back to the hole; until the knocking turned to the screeching of nails.
“Clairrreeee, it’s time to come with me, Claire.” Morgan’s face flashed into the hole for about the fiftieth time that night, but this time she held the bottom of the hole and stuck her head through like the night before.

“Don’t you want to come with me, Claire?” She cocked her head, and those large dark eyes burned into mine and this time, I nodded. She disappeared, and the scratching at the door resumed. I pushed back my blue comforter and shakily stood up for the first time in two days. I stepped off my bed and stood in front of the closet door, hesitating for a moment. I had nearly decided to turn and crawl back into my bed when an unknown force willed my hand to move up to the latch and unhook it from the small metal loop. The closet door swung open before me, but nothing or no one was inside. Morgan was gone and the children’s laughter had stopped. The light had stopped flickering, and now hung dark from the ceiling. I stood in the doorway and stretched my arm out into the closet. That’s when Morgan pushed aside the clothes in which she hid behind and stared up at me with a hideous demonic grin, flashing sharp, sparkling white teeth. She only held the position for a second, then reached out and gripped my arm, yanking me into the dark closet. The door shut and locked behind me.


Mom found me in the closet in the morning. My mangled body was nearly completely submerged in an ocean of black leaves filling the closet. Strangely enough, I was wearing a silky nightgown, tattered, and stained with my blood. She screamed, and seconds later my brother and dad ran into the room.
My autopsy described my wounds to be from some sort of wild animal. A wild animal with massive claws. They’d never know that fairies could do such a thing and the police never thought to connect my case to an almost identical one that had occurred at the Robinette household three nights before.


My eyes shot open. I quickly sat up, noticing that I was wearing a silvery nightgown that was tattered and stained with blood. The moon hung plump in the night sky. I sat on a cold forest floor, heeding the fact that the entire forest surrounding me seemed far too aphotic. I grabbed a handful of leaves from the ground and held them up in the moonlight; they were black.

“Welcome to the magical land, Claire,” a familiar voice from behind me whispered. I quickly turned around to face Morgan. I struggled to stifle a scream as I fell back and shuffled a few feet away.

Morgan’s hands were armed with two inch long claws, her ears were tall and pointed, and her tattered nightgown was stained with dark blood. Her wings seemed larger here, and I recognized them to be composed of the leaves like the ones that I had just plucked from the ground. Her eyes were the same, large, dark, and horrifying. They would never change. Something seemed different though, she didn’t scare me as much as she had in my bedroom.

“Don’t be scared, Claire, you’re one of us now.” Morgan smiled. I slowly stood up, letting the black leaves cling to my bloody nightgown.

“What do you mean? I’m one of you, what are you?” I said harshly. Morgan giggled slightly.

“Silly Claire,” she said, “We are The Gatherers.” I heard the faint sound of children’s laughter, and spotted small heads poking out from behind the trees and then disappearing again.

“What?” I said shakily. A slight breeze was picking up, rustling the leaves at my feet.

“The Gatherers,” Morgan repeated. “We collect the children.”

“Collect the children? Who the hell are you people?!” I yelled. Morgan only smiled.

“We are not people, we are fairies, we are Gatherers. We gather the children, so they too, can become Gatherers.” The breeze grew stronger, crawling up my legs.

“Well why didn’t you look like this in my room?” I demanded.

“We don’t want to scare off the children; we only want to slightly frighten them.” The breeze twirled around my waist. A dark figure in the background darted from one tree to another. Morgan stared at me, smiling, almost as if expecting me to speak again.

“So you live here?” I asked, “All of you?”

“No, silly Claire, we live in the closets. These are the closets.” Morgan gestured to the trees in the forest. The breeze nipped at my torso. The leaves had picked up, twirling around my thighs.

“Were you the one who called me on the phone?” I asked, slightly shaken. Morgan shook her head. Playful giggles echoed from behind the trees. I thought back to the first night when Morgan had visited me.

“If you really are Morgan, then why are you so young?”

“We develop the crave for the darkness at different ages, and shrink back to that age when we are gathered.”

“What do you do if someone doesn’t have a closet?” I asked deviously. Morgan chuckled, looking down at the ground and shuffling her feet. She quickly lifted her head and stared challengingly up at me, almost looking as if she was angry.

“We go to their window.” The breeze turned into a strong wind, passing over my head, and forming the twirling leaves into a tube-like tornado around me. “You’re one of us now, Claire, forever,” I faintly heard Morgan whisper. Strange surges of energy shot down through my body, and a turning force morphed all the love in my mind and heart to hate, and hunger. My nails and ears grew long and pointed, and large wings formed from black leaves, and jutted from my back. My skin turned a corpse pale, and my teeth sharpened and bleached themselves a sparkling white. I shrunk in height, and age. My eyes grew large and dark. A strong craving for the night and evil filled my heart. The leaves and wind settled at my feet.

“What are you?” Morgan asked, dark eyes waiting with expectation.

I looked up; my own dark eyes staring back at her.

“I am a Gatherer.”

“And who do you seek?” Morgan smirked.

“Why, our best friend of course, our dear best friend, Sara.”


Sara Aybar finished her math homework and stuffed her math book into her backpack along with the other school books, ready to be carried off to school in the morning. She tiptoed to the room next to hers, which belonged to her five year old brother, Daniel, and checked to make sure he was asleep. Satisfied, she crept back to her own room, shut the door and crawled into bed, switching off the desk lamp on the nightstand. The clock read 11:59pm. One minute later, Sara heard the first scratch coming from within the closet.