The mounster on the wall used to look at me with sad eyes every night:

"If you don't close your eyes I will keep looking at you all nigth and will make you cry," he would say, "yes, sir," I used to murmure back in fear.

The little kitchen top with the aluminium toy pots and dishes in the corner, the bright crochet courtains hanging from the wall to separate the adult world from mine, the small tricycle parked by the laundry box, it was all familiarly friendly but... the mounster on the wall! He would come back night after night to frighten me.

One night he became real: "Mum has gone," he said in a lower than usual voice, "she is getting a new baby sister for you. From this night on we will be closer than ever: you, my tiny princess and me, your sad giant!" I didn't know why but his voice sounded good that time.

The night was the longest I had ever lived. I saw the tiny little eyes and curly blond hair of the new born girl by the corner of my eyes, asking me to play with her. But everytime I turned round, the darkness would swallow them. In the early morning Granny came upstairs and sung sweet songs on my ear but my sadness didn't go away. After tears and sweet silly words, the sun said good morning and I finally felt asleep. I had upsetting dreams: mum leaving me with a bounch of big flowers in her arms; little babies dancing around the room and taking my dolls and smashing them against the walls; daddy playing with the new arrival and ignoring me...

It must have been around twelve o'clock when Aunty Rosa came round with a tray of just baked cookies: "You have a new baby sister now," she said with a broad smile, "she is tiny and soft, she doesn't have any her yet and her eyes are still closed." She smelt happyness, her hands dressed me quickly and she put me in the car without much care: "Uncle will drive us to he hospital but you need to behabe yourself, the tiny one is too tired and she needs to sleep". "Too tired?" I thought, "she has just arrived and she is already tyred?"

I tried to imagine the new addition to the family but could not accept that I would forever have a bold sister. Mum had carefully explained to me how I will have to take her to school with me and take care of her for the rest of our lives, defend her from the big ones, a bold appendix to my own little existence from that day on! And then... he talked, the monster on the wall:

"I'll help you to look after her," he said. He appeared from nowhere, I saw him reflected in the car window. "Look!" I cried but my cousin was fast asleep and the grown ups where too busy planning the visit, so I smile back to the monster and put my head against the window feeling his cold breath on my neck.

Learn more about this author, Ascen Arriazu.
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