Birthday boy

For as long as I can remember, I've visited the birthday hut. Every year on my birthday, when my parents go to sleep, I'd peek out my window, my eyes locked on the backyard grass. Waiting excitedly, my heart would skip with each blink. When suddenly, there it was.

It's roof was made of layered straw, it's walls wooden. And through a glassless window glowed a warm, orange light. My eyes would widen as it appeared from thin air.

As to not wake my parents, I would tiptoe down the steps, although I wanted to run like the wind. Slipping out the back door, the grass would crunch beneath my feet as I approached it.

The wooden door appeared to be hand carved, it's indents sloppy. And the golden knob was scratched; long past it's days of glimmer. It screeched as I turned it, the door creaking as it opened.

The warm, comforting air wrapped around me like a hug as I stood in the doorway. In the middle of the room was a small wooden table with matching chairs for two. Towards the back of the room was a crackling fire that illuminated the hut.

Over on a wooden counter stood tiny wooden jars that contained treats, ones that I would be allowed to eat each birthday. But my gift was always the best of all.

And finally, dangling from the ceiling by his tail, was the birthday monster.

"Hello!" He chirped in a deep, comforting voice.

After swinging like a monkey, he dropped to the ground, the impact sending a slight shake throughout the hut. His fur was short and ashy brown, covering his whole body and outlining his head.

With his height, he'd tower above me; looking down on me with piercing yellow eyes, his pupils thin and sharp like a cat. When he'd see me walk in, he'd stretch a big, wide, toothy smile.

But even with all of this, I never felt threatened. He was like a gentle giant.

"Happy birthday!" He exclaimed, wrapping his soft body around me.

I'd bury my face into his fur as he'd run his claws through my hair.

"How was your day? Did you get everything you wanted?"

I nodded, looking up at him with a cheeky smile.

"Wrong answer!" He smirked.

I furrowed my brow, tilting my head.

"You haven't gotten everything you wanted because you haven't gotten MY gift yet," he winked.

I giggled as he walked over to the table, signaling for me to sit across from him. Although he only came for my birthday, he was always interested in the other 364 days of my life. I'd tell him about my home life, school, my friends; whatever was on my mind and whatever he missed. It always felt like catching up with an old friend.

"Have you ever gone to school?" I asked.

He shook his head, his fur waving.

"So, in the human world, we have elementary school, middle school, and high school. They're pretty… big transitions. And since I'm moving onto high school, It's all kinda catching up to me."

"What is?"

"The fact that I'm… getting older. And I'm gonna be shoved out of my comfort zone with no control. And when high school is over, then college, then… God, I don't even know."

I sighed as I looked away, the anxious thoughts rushing in like a tidal wave.

"Who says you have to?"

I turned to him, my brows furrowing.

"Uh, my parents?" I chuckled awkwardly.

"Why do you have to grow up? What's so bad about not doing it?"

"Well… I mean, I guess you have a point. But that's just… not how it is. And there's nothing I can do about that. It's what scares me the most."

"Then don't grow up!"

I scoffed under my breath, turning away.

"You don't get it…"

He stood up and walked towards me. I looked up at him as he laid his hand on my shoulder.

"You know what's best for you, so reach for it!"

"Maybe I don't know what's best for me…"

He leaned down, our eyes leveled.

"Don't ever question what you know about yourself. Nobody knows you better than yourself."

I sighed, averting my gaze. As comforting as he could be, a lot of his words just went in one ear and out the other.

"Do you want a cookie to make you feel better?"

"I'm… good."

He frowned as he struggled to fix my frustration.

"… What if you didn't have to grow up-"

"Are you not listening to me?"

"Wait… Let me finish. What if you didn't have to grow up because there'd be no reason to? Nobody to make you do it?"

"Sounds like a nice pipe dream…"

"I can make it a reality."

I perked my head up, my brow raised.

"Stay with me!"

My heart skipped a beat at the offer.

"Like… forever!"

My anxious gaze shifted around, my words caught on the knot in my throat.

"Yes! Forever!"

"I- I don't know- I appreciate it, but-"

"We can eat treats and never grow old together!"

As he continued to apply pressure, my heart pounded harder.

"Look, I-… I'm sorry but I don't think I can do that…"

His wide grin deflated as his eyes sank.

"You don't want to stay with me… ?"

"It's not that, I just… I like my life. A little fear doesn't want to make me leave."

With his tail dragging across the ground, he walked over to the counter and opened a drawer. From it, he pulled out a leather notebook and a pen.

"If you won't stay with me… I want you to at least feel like you can still talk to me whenever."

He smiled weakly as he handed me the journal. Taking it from him, I grazed it's cover with my thumb.

"You can write down whatever scares you, whatever excites you, whatever you'd like to tell me on the days I'm not here."

I looked up at him, smiling warmly. I stood up and threw my arms around him, his warmth radiating against my skin.

"Thank you."

"Of course."

With his arms wrapped around me, his lips parted to speak.

"And about my offer… I'd like it if you reconsidered it next year. Right in time to avoid that nasty high school!"

Suddenly, before I could answer, his grip around me tightened. But not in an embracing way; in a way that would paralyze me if he had gone any tighter.

"… I will," I squeezed out.

"Perfect!" His grip instantly loosened

Pulling away, I forced a smile up at him.

"I… should go."

"Already?!" He frowned.

"Yeah… I'm sorry. My mom almost caught me last time. Don't want her to worry," I laughed awkwardly as I scratched the back of my head.

"Alright… I hope you had a good birthday."

He stared down at me; the smile on his face and the solemn in his eyes clashing.

"I did," I smiled weakly.

With one last hug, he then watched as I walked out the door. As I gently closed it behind me, my expression twisted as a nausea brewed in my stomach. I had never felt like I had to cautiously look behind me after saying goodbye to him. Yet I found myself running back to my door as fast as possible.

That was on my 14th birthday. And on the days leading to my 15th birthday, I decided that I was too old for him. I remember kneeling by my window, once again peeking out.

But I felt different this time. I wasn't waiting in anticipation, I was waiting with a dread that hung over me like the darkest cloud. I knew he'd be there waiting for my answer. Even after a year, I never stopped thinking about his offer.

But I just couldn't accept it. To live with him forever? How could I just leave my parents like that? My friends? My life? It was too much pressure, and I felt like it was time to distance myself.

Then, there it was again, with its warm glow from the window pouring into the grass. But this time, I didn't run downstairs. This time, I hid. I dropped away from my window as fast as possible, hoping he hadn't seen me.

I never felt threatened by him until that night, his crushing grip on my back. For the first time, I imagined him possibly coming into my house instead, where he'd find an inkless journal sitting in a dusty drawer.

In the 15 years of my life at that moment, I had never skipped out on going to the birthday hut. But I decided it would now be never again. With a racing heart, I attempted to sleep, my booming thoughts keeping me awake.

Eventually, I drifted off to sleep. Upon waking up the next morning, the first thing I checked for was to see if he was gone. Like every morning after, the hut magically vanished. Sighing with relief, I slumped in my bed.

"Nicholas," my mom said as she opened the door.

I lifted my head as she walked in.

"I told you to stop ordering things with my card!"

"I didn't," I furrowed my brows in confusion.

"I'm not mad. Just don't lie to me, and don't do it again!"

She tossed a box onto my bed before shutting the door. I stared at it as it laid by my feet. It was wrapped with brown paper, a string of yarn tying it together. Lifting it up cautiously, I shook it next to my ear, hearing an object clanking against the inside of the box.

I carefully untied the yarn, then tore through the paper. Under the wrapping was a plain box with a top. Upon lifting it, I first noticed a note. In chicken scratch handwriting, it read:

"I'm sorry I missed you this year, I hope you're feeling well! Here's something to have on the birthdays that I'll miss."

Under the note was a little knitted toy. As I lifted it, my stomach sank as I realized it was a miniature version of him. I tilted my head as I turned it around in my grip, observing it's details. It would've been cute if it hadn't felt so bizarrely menacing.

Trying to shrug it off, I left it next to the untouched journal, leaving it to the dust bunnies. Next year, on my 16th birthday, I skipped out on him again. This time, I wasn't even there to peek out my window, as I had slept over at a friend's house.

After getting dropped off the next day, I was met with a package at my front door. It was identical to the one I had received last year. After greeting my mom, I snuck it upstairs and quietly opened it. Inside was a note that read:

"Missed you again?! Well, I hope three times' the charm so I can see you next year! But if you can't, here's something that can hopefully keep us in touch."

In the box laid a small walkie-talkie. It's yellow paint was lightly coated with dirt, as if it had been dug up. Something about it disturbed me even more than the last gift; the thought of it being a direct connection to him, even on a regular day.

And the possibility of him suddenly speaking through it sent a shiver down my spine. Receiving that gift was one of the first times I ever really thought about where he would go after my birthday. I never thought to ask. But I didn't want the answer, and I didn't want the radio either. So along with everything else, I dumped it into my drawer.

On the night of my 17th birthday, I came home late from dinner. As I undressed in my bedroom, the sound of a muffled voice sent a shock through my body. I slowly turned to my drawer, where I heard him speaking through static. I couldn't fully understand it from outside the drawer, but I was too unnerved to retrieve it.

After unfreezing myself, I opened the drawer.

"Are you there? Nick? Are you coming? Are you coming?"

My gaze shifted towards the window, my body slightly trembling as I imagined him sitting there with the walkie-talkie in his hand, begging for me to come. It felt obsessive and continued to crawl under my skin.

"Are you coming? Are you there? Can you answer? Are you coming?"

The questions rang in my ears, they felt piercing. I quickly grabbed the radio, pried off the back and ripped out the batteries. His voice instantly evaporated to silence, the only noise being my pounding heart in my ears.

After slipping my shaking body under the covers, I thought about burning all of the gifts. I don't know why I had even kept them; I think a part of me was worried he'd somehow find it. I've never seen him outside of the hut, but sending gifts showed me that he was capable of more than I thought.

The next morning, I received another gift. At this point, I just wanted to toss it in the trash. But I felt compelled to keep opening them, as if he was watching me at all times. If he got a walkie-talkie, who's to say he didn't get cameras?

My hands trembled as I tore the paper, swallowing the knot in my throat. As always, a note sat on top.

"Guess three times wasn't the charm! It's been so long… I miss you! I want to hear about your life! And I want you to stay with me. Hopefully this piece of me makes you reconsider next year."

As I lifted up the note, my eyes widened. I immediately dropped the box, watching the bloody teeth clank against each other. I stared down at them in horror as my body froze. They were sharp and jagged, appearing to have been vigorously torn out with strands of flesh still attached.

I clenched my teeth as the urge to puke grew. Unable to look at them any longer, I quickly crammed the top back on and tossed it into my garbage can, along with the other gifts I had received from him.

Over the course of three years, it was just getting worse and worse. How many birthdays until this finally ended? I was hoping to have had my answer on my 18th birthday, when I was accepted into a university in Minnesota. I was a month away from leaving, celebrating both my departure and my entrance into adulthood, when I received another gift on my doorstep.

But this time, the box was bigger. It was long and thin, almost the size of my torso. I decided I couldn't do this again, and that it needed to end. For once, I hadn't even remembered he was in my backyard. So I lifted the box and threw it out, the curiosity still itching the back of my head.

After a few hours of thumb twiddling, I needed to know. I retrieved the box from the garbage and brought it to my room. Setting it down on my bed, I took a deep breath before tearing the paper off. The second I lifted the lid, my nostrils were hit with a smell that I could not describe. It was putridly sour and thick, causing me to hold a gag in my cheeks.

A note laid on top of a newspaper that was used to wrap something.

"My Nicky is a grown man! It brings me to tears to have seen you grow up… we could've prevented that. But alas, you are starting your life, with or without me.

P.S. - It gets cold up in Minnesota."

Setting down the note, I cautiously began to rip apart the paper. Beneath it revealed fur, one that seemed eerily familiar. As I lifted it, I squirmed at the feeling of something wet against my fingertips. Pulling my fingers away, my eyes widened at the sight of blood on my hand. Turning back to the gift, I stepped back and let it unfold.

Draping in front of me was his skin, blood dripping from its feet onto my floorboards. My expression was locked in a gaping terror, unable to release it from my grip. A hole for my face was carved where his once was, the inside crimson and fleshy.

With puke rushing up my throat, I dropped it and collapsed to my knees. I grabbed my garbage can and unloaded into it, the smell still lurking in my nasal passages. I regretted opening it so badly, I should've just left it in the trash.

A month later, I was finally leaving for college, and I'd never be looking through that bedroom window again. Once upon a time, that would've been a sad thought, but now it was a relieving one. I finally felt safe.

On my drive up there, I thought about if he'd still be in my backyard; waiting for the birthday that I spend at home. Or if he'd be in another child's backyard, hoping to spend eternity with them instead. All I knew was that I'd never see him again.

I spent my 19th birthday with a bellyful of tequila and some marijuana in my lungs. After stumbling back to my dorm room, I stood at the foot of my bed, ready to collapse onto it. Suddenly, as my body was diving towards comfort, I noticed something in the blur of my vision. I lifted myself up, my arms wobbly. With heavy eyelids, I peeked out my window, which had a clear view of the street.

And what I saw was someone that getting crossed couldn't even conjure up. The birthday monster stood under a flickering streetlight, glaring directly through my window. His bare skin was bright red and clumpy, purple veins running throughout. His tail, like the one of a rat, was plopped onto the pavement. But his eyes, his gleaming yellow eyes, stayed the same.

Suddenly, as our gazes met, his sharp pupils dilated, his eyes widening. He stretched a wide, sharp smile that revealed his few missing teeth

"Happy birthday," he slowly mouthed.