The Chronicles of Eagle Girl and Midnight: A Monster Is Thwarted

Monster“Shh,” she whispered, her tiny eyes darting back and forth. “I hear monsters.”

I nodded. Beneath a red throw, my four-year old daughter and I were pretending. We were being mercilessly hunted by a band of raving and grotesque lunatics. We were scared. I could hear their haunting screams in the distance. My heart quickened as a tear—one solemn tear—gently rolled down my cheek.

“Father,” Regan said, as scarlet hues painted her face, “don’t be afraid.”

“Why shouldn’t I be?”

“Because these monsters,” she laughed, “are nothing to Eagle Girl.”

“Who?”

“Eagle Girl, our savior.”

“But, surely,” I said, “Eagle Girl is tucked safely in her eerie. How would she know? Why would she care? She is great, I fear, and we are not. Would she deign to swoop down and rescue us?”

“Father, you do not know of whom you speak.”

“Bah! Eagle Girl is far away, soaring over the mountains. She is no concern of ours.”

“I say again,” Regan chanted with a firm conviction, “you do not know of whom you speak. Eagle Girl is a miracle in being. She is courageous and ferocious. She speaks seven languages, has rainbow feathers, and flies faster than wind.”

“And how, pray tell, will that save us?” My voice was shrill and packed with fright. The moaning voices of the damned were drawing near.

“How?! How, you ask! Eagle Girl’s wings are made of lightening. She kills germs. And, if that wasn’t enough Father, one of her wings detaches from her body. And it is with this arm that she smites her foes. I have seen it.”

“Smite?” I asked.

Regan nodded while moving her hand horizontally across her neck.

“You mean, with her detachable wing, Eagle Girl decapitates ghouls?”

“Yes. And she wears makeup.”

“Ah, I see. Perhaps, then, we are saved.” I smiled. “But how will Eagle Girl know that we are thusly confined?”

“Eagle Girl reads minds, Father. But she also employs her pet hamster, Midnight, on errands of an intelligent nature.”

“Do you mean to say that Midnight is skilled in the arts of reconnaissance?”

“Yes, yes, Father. And he is very good too.”

“Ah. Well, he would be, wouldn’t he?”

“Your words are wise, Father. Why, even now, Midnight is among us, gathering necessary information.”

“Well, in that case, I am no longer frightened. Eagle Girl will find us and I do believe that she will prevail.” And then a thought occurred to me: “But what should happen if Eagle Girl comes upon us at night, will she be able to espy us? Will she be frightened?”

“Father, your audacious thoughts are tiring. Of course! Eagle Girl not only sees into the blackest of nights, but she also glows in the dark. Besides, Eagle Girl fears nothing. You see, Father, we are saved!”

At that, a monster appeared. Bubbling foam poured from the corners of her mouth. At full height, she was six feet tall, but, in her present condition, she was bent over and twisted by the weight of a bizarre mound deforming her body.

She, the monster, ripped our aegis from atop us and began stomping around in a swooning rage. For a moment, I lost sight in my fear, but soon resuscitated as Regan, now transformed into Eagle Girl, rose up from the ashes of our tomb.

Flying into the air she cawed with all of her might and smote the evil, ravaging monster!

“Ouch!” my wife cried. “That really hurt, Regan. Do I need to send you to your room?”

“No,” Regan sulked.

“Good, because it’s dinner time.” My wife, Andrea, stalked off towards the kitchen.

I winked at Regan and placed a finger across my lips, as if to say: “Remain silent, this is our secret.”

A conspiratorial smile spread across Regan’s face, “I told you, Dad. Eagle Girl always comes to the rescue.”

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