Elana Abelson is in the 9th grade at HMJDS. She likes to read, write, play soccer, and act in theatre. She also enjoys spending time with her family, dog, and visiting her nephew. This is her second prize-winning story in the Keren Or contest.
PROSE - 2008
Grades 7 - 9
First Place - Asher Mintzer
Third Place - Josh Crandell
Grades 10 - 12
First Place - Aviva Oskow
Third Place - Yehudis Mizrachi
Prose, Grades 7 - 9: Second Place
Shadow Dance - Elana Abelson
It all started with a closet. I always hated that closet. It was dark and musty. At night I always had my
Mommy check for monsters. Tonight I am too sleepy to ask. As I’m drifting off to sleep I hear a light tapping on the closet door. I am very sleep deprived and assume I am dreaming.
“I love dreams,” I mumble.
“My dreams are scary,” something whispers back.
My eyes fly open; I let out a deafening scream. Mommy comes into my room, “There, there, you were just having a bad dream.”
I shake my head, “No, no, it was real! I swear!” Mommy sighs, “Go back to bed Margaret, I’ll see you in the morning.”
“But…”
“Shh,” she says and closes the door.
I look around the dark room; my stuffed animals are all where they should be and none of them seems to be moving. My nightlight is still glowing and the closet door is firmly shut. “It’s okay,” I assure myself. I hug my teddy bear, Mr. Sniffle, and go back to sleep.
A low moan wakes me again. This time I know better than to scream. I creep out of bed, Mr. Sniffles in hand, and quietly open the closet. I peek inside; my clothes are all in a line and nothing is out of place. I finally drift off into a peaceful slumber. Something is breathing in my face and whoever it is needs like a billion breath mints.
“Five more minutes Nimbus,” I tell the thing in my face, which I assume is my dog.
“Five more minutes until what?” The thing asks.
I sit bolt upright in bed. “Nimbus?” I whimper. The creature staring me in the face is definitely not Nimbus..
“Hi,” the creature waves.
“What…who…you speak?”
“Well of course I do. I’m four years old!”
“Who are you?” I ask.
“My name is Sylvester. Sylvester Howard. Have you seen Francine?
“France who?” I ask, bewildered.
“Francine, silly, my sister. She told me she would be back in five minutes, but it’s been more then an hour.
“What are you?”
“What do you mean?” Sylvester asks.
“I mean, you’re definitely not a human, and you’re for sure not Nimbus, although you do smell a bit like him.”
I’m a closet monster.”
“Excuse me?”
“You know, I live in the closet with my monster family.”
“So you’re the one who has been scaring me?”
“No, I don’t scare people. Where did you get that idea?”
“Monsters scare people, that’s what they do.”
“No we don’t. We’re very gentle. You’re thinking of under the bed monsters, those things are very scary. Closet Monsters are vegetarians and are scared of a lot of things, like I’m afraid of my shadow.
“You are?”
“Yes, that’s why I like having Francine around when Mommy and Daddy are at work.”
“Wait, hold up. Work?”
“Well, yah, how do you think we could afford such a nice closet?”
“What do they do?” I ask, skeptically.
“Well, Mommy is a Rabbi, she works at the large Beth El closet and Daddy, well he works in real estate.
“Oh.”
“Yah, and my brother, Terrence, he’s a tunnel builder. We closet monsters are working on a big project. We’re trying to connect all the closets by underground tunnels!”
“That’ll take a while.”
“Maybe, but there are a lot of closet monsters.”
“Margaret, Breakfast,” Mom calls.
“You’ve got to hide,” I whisper. I hear Mom’s footsteps getting closer so I throw a blanket over Sylvester and sit in front of him.
“Margaret, what’s that behind you?” Mom asks.
“Oh, um nothing. Just Mr. Sniffles.”
Mom shakes her head, “Better hurry up, your hot chocolate is getting cold.”
I nod. As soon as she closes the door I throw the blanket off of Sylvester.
“It’s stuffy in there.” Sylvester takes a deep breath.
“How are you this articulate?” I ask.
“Well, the only book you have in that closet of yours is the dictionary so when Francine is busy, I read.”
“Look, I got to go, but when I get back from school I’ll help you look for Francine.” Sylvester nods his head and retreats back to the closet, his home.
“MARGARET!” Mom shouts from downstairs.
“COMING!” I yell back. I get dressed in record time and race downstairs, where cold eggs and even colder hot chocolate are waiting. I stuff the last bit of eggs in my mouth, wipe my mouth on the back of my sleeve, sling my backpack over one shoulder and head outside to wait for the bus. At school all I can think about is getting home. As soon as the last bell rings, I run home, knowing the bus will take a full hour. I reach my house hot and sweaty, even though it’s forty five degrees outside.
“Sylvester,” I call, running to my room. A bashful face appears at the top of the stairs.
“There you are, what are you doing up there?” I ask.
“Francine decided to get a job; she won’t be back for a full week!” Sylvester cries.
“You mean you’re left here alone for days?”
A tear slides down his monster cheek, “Mommy and daddy are usually gone for months, but Francine has always been here, until now.”
“Don’t worry, it’ll be okay.” I soothe him, “You can always hang out with me.”
“But we’re moving! I have to get used to a whole new closet all by myself. And what am I going to do about my shadow.”
“Oh Sylvester,” I say, “I’ll help you.” We head to my room. “Sylvester, a shadow is nothing to be afraid of,” I tell him.
“But it’s scary,” he cries.
“Watch,” I say. I turn off the lights except for one lamp and with my hands I make funny creatures appear on the wall. A shadow bird dances across the wall. Sylvester giggles,
“See, those are shadows,” I tell him. With my hands I make a shape of a girl, who pirouettes across the wall. Sylvester stares in awe, “She looks like you.”
“Exactly, now whenever you’re lonely you can see my shadow, dancing across the wall.”
That night Sylvester leaves. I give him a hug, “Goodbye Sylvester,” I whisper.
“Goodbye Margaret,” he whispers back.
After my encounter with Sylvester the monster, I never needed my Mom to check the closet ever again.