The Demon Furby

Outside the window it was coal black. There wasn't even a sliver of light from the earth's reflection during the New Moon. The darkness was pervasive. My eyes were having a difficult time adjusting to the darkness that permeated the bedroom. There wasn't even a nightlight plugged into the outlet to ease the starkness. I pulled the covers all the way up to my eyes and sunk my head deeply into the pillow praying I wouldn't be attacked tonight. I tried to push the fear deep within. Fear makes the attacks much worse.

My eyes were struggling to stay open. I needed to be prepared. As my eyelids felt heavier and heavier and the heavy weight of sleep was beginning to weigh me down into the mattress.

Just when I should have been safe for the night I felt the slightest tickle on my nose. Subconsciously I reached up with a finger to scratch it. Then I felt a brush against my cheek... my hair ruffled as if a sudden wind had picked up inside my small bedroom. I opened my eyes slowly as my brain started to wake up again. Standing on my pillow was a Furby. Not just any Furby, but the one I had deemed the "demon one"... he had red fur and black eyes and an evil grin. Behind him was his trio of back alley bullies. Hit, Grim and Folly.

My eyes widened in horror. No matter what I did with the crimson quadruplets they showed back up to torture me once more. I was already in deprivation for not sleeping fully for months on end. I was sure I had taken those demon fur bags and shoved them into a plastic bag and stuffed them in the garbage pail for pickup earlier that day. And yet, there they were staring at me with a look of pure maliciousness on their faces.

"Oh, noooooooo.... we're here again" was twittered out of each set of smirking plastic lips, as they inched closer and closer to my face. As they pounced on my face I screamed. I sat straight up and clawed at my face trying to pry them off.

I woke up from my nightmare. The Furbies again. The jail cell had a dim glow from the single lightbulb hanging in the hallway between cells. I rubbed my face. My downfall. Those damn Furbies. After I screamed in my bedroom all those years ago my parents had come into my bedroom finding me with the demon toys on my bed looking angelic while I lost my mind from their unrelenting abuse. After that night my parents had taken me to the sanitarium where I spent years recounting my attacks and the fear those attacks had caused to the disbelieving counselors.

Finally, a shell of my former self, I was released but not back to my parents. I was taken to a halfway house where other halfway sane people were kept relatively quiet with medication and boring TV shows and elevator music.

Not long afterwards I simply walked away during an outing while the guardians weren't really watching us too closely. I thought I was ready to live on my own. I thought I had finally conquered my fear. I thought the Furbies were long gone. I was wrong.

While walking down a random street after my not-so-great escape, the medication was slowly working its way out of my system. My hands were shoved down into my pants' pockets, my head was down, I was walking quickly to nowhere.

I stopped when I heard a familiar voice. I shut my eyes so tightly I thought my eyelids would bleed from the pressure. Fear permeated my body causing a ripple of chills and goosebumps to surface. It couldn't be. Those Furbies were long gone. I cracked open one eye. There he was. Demon Furby was balancing on his head on a corner of a large trash can. Behind him were his trio of thugs. Demon Furby flipped over and screaming like a Ninja landed on my head. I reached up to grab him and screamed as he dug into my scalp. The thugs flung themselves to my chest. I thrashed and swung my arms not aware of what I was doing. The Furbies were crying out in evil glee, pounding me and jumping from spot to spot before I could grab one to fling it away. I whirled around screaming, crying, kicking whatever was in the way and not caring what damage was done. I collapsed in a heap, as I heard a siren getting louder and louder. Behind me was a trashcan on its side with garbage strewn everywhere. A newspaper dispenser was bent with the glass broken. I looked down to my hand to see it bleeding profusely. Panicked, I looked around to see people standing back in fear. One woman's groceries had been scattered. A purse had been torn to shreds. A man's nose was broken and bleeding. Did the Furbies do all of that damage?

A police cruiser came in screeching to a halt and an officer jumped out of the door with her weapon drawn. Coming towards me she yelled, "hands behind your head. NOW"!

What? I didn't do all of this! The Furbies did! I cried, "Don't arrest me... get those evil Furbies. THEY did all of this! I had to defend myself!"

The officer grabbed my bleeding hands and handcuffed me while jerking me up by the scruff of my neck. "Get in the Car". It was an order not a request. What had I done?

The next several weeks went by in a blur. In the courtroom I thought I saw my parents looking haggard and old. When I had seen them last? I couldn't remember. Maybe they weren't there at all. Maybe it was my imagination. No, couldn't have been. I don't have much of an imagination.

Nowadays, before dawn, loud clanging wakes up the inmates and we head out blurry-eyed and half asleep. A spare breakfast is all we get before heading to the kitchens to scrub and clean then we get three-minute showers before being issued a dull gray uniform each. We march in a line to an open yard for ten minutes of so-called exercise.

At least I'm away from the evil demon Furbies. They can't touch me here. I looked around not taking in my surroundings, since my thoughts were firmly lost inside my own head. I glanced over to the corner of the exercise yard. That is where I saw him. His evil, malicious grin and black eyes greeting my horror-filled eyes. I screamed filling the yard with my fear, as other inmates backed away. I screamed until my voice was hoarse. I blacked out when the guard's baton smacked the side of my head.

I was charged with disruption in the jail yard. The judge looked at me with disgust. She asked me what had happened to me that caused my criminal ways. I looked up and caught her eye. I stared without changing my facial expression. I could see by her look that her disgust was starting to turn into an unsure fear. I continued to stare. The Bailiff pulled on my handcuffs and snapped, "Answer the judge and do it quick!"

I slowly moved my head over to glare at the Bailiff. He would never understand. I slowly blinked then turned back to the judge giving her my dead stare. She expected an answer. All I could say was, "Furbies".

"What?" the judged asked confused.

I couldn't make her understand anymore than I could my parents, the counselors, the home guardians or the inmates.

Suddenly there was an uproar. The courthouse personnel had burst into laughter. Tears were flowing from the Bailiff's eyes. Then the floor started to shake. The courtroom's walls began trembling. Chairs made a clattering sound as they shifted around on the courtroom floor. My eyes widened and fear took over so quickly I couldn't take a decent breath. Then it happened. The ceiling cracked and broken plaster came tumbling down hitting people indiscriminately. Then my nightmares came to life when thousands of Furbies jumped from the ceiling and attacked.

The horrific sound from the courtroom scared even the most hardened criminal awaiting trial. No one knew what was happening except for the prisoner who tried to tell the judge the truth.

The Furbies were invading and taking no prisoners.

Light was fading from my eyes. The Furbies had finally won.