The Interspacial

The young dragon slept soundly on her bed of gold. The night was cool and her hoard was still warm from the day’s sun, and as she slept she dreamt of faroff places and fantastical things that made the smoke curling from her nose do little tricks in the moonlight.

Something roused her from her sleep. A soft nothing that hid behind the gentle noises of her home and failed to sound again. She gazed warily around her room with a single cracked eye but nothing stood out to her. Golden light spilled past the edges of the heavy cloth door that separated her room from the rest of the dwelling, and brought with it the soft sound of family laughing and talking in the wee hours of the night. Calmed, she shifted and stretched on her bed and closed her eyes once more.

The sound came again, and this time her head bolted up and her eyes were wide. It was some sort of thump, or maybe a thud, or possibly a rustle. Shadows nestled in the corners of her nighttime world seemed a little more ominous than usual, and she found herself imagining tiny things skittering around in the dark.

Mustering all her effort, she stood up, ran to the door, and whipped it open, letting that golden light chase the shadows away. Triumphantly she whipped around to face her room, wings open wide, scouring the corners and crannies for anything amiss.

There was nothing.

Tail twitching, she sauntered back to bed, glaring around at the shadows as if daring them to make a sound. She circled her bed once, twice, eye cracked, before hesitantly settling down once more. Nothing seemed out of place. The sound didn’t come again. Bathed in that soft golden glow from downstairs, the darkness seemed a little less frightening, and she felt the knot in her stomach loosening. Her eyelids became heavy. The night was quiet, so quiet, and she was tired.

Thump.

The young dragon jolted up and looked around wildly, her eyes wider than ever before. She knew she had heard something this time: a definite thump. Not a rustle or a squeak, or even a skitter, but a thump. The sound of something moving around in the dark, thumping and bumping clumsily. Or… and she had to swallow the fear rising in her throat. Someone…

Quick as a flash she slapped her paw down on the lamp next to her bed, and a soft arcane glow illuminated her room in pale green. She scanned those corners, those dark nooks and crannies, for anything amiss, but just like before nothing had changed. Toys littered her floor: but none of them had moved. Posters watched her from the walls: but they all hung straight. Her desk? Untouched. Her wardrobe? Just as messy as ever. The storage room? Open a crack. The window? Closed—

Her head whipped back to the storage room and she felt a shiver travel all the way down her spine from her head to the very tip of her now rapidly twitching tail.

She had always hated the storage room. Where the other doors in her home were made of soft but heavy cloth, the storage room, and its door, was much, much older. It swung on ancient hinges, a beast of wood and steel and nails, and liked to talk when the weather shifted the frame or a draft caught it playfully. It often groaned, and whined, and squeaked sadly, but the sound she had heard was none of those. Instead it was open a crack (and she definitely remembered closing it until it latched earlier in the day), and she could barely make out the outlines of old items stored within.

Tentatively, she began to slip out of her bed, her eyes never once straying from that awful, awful door. One paw, followed by another, until she stood, back arched like a scared cat and head low, body facing the golden glow of downstairs but eyes staring unblinking at the storage room. Every spine on her tiny body stood up straight. She took a step, and something inside the storage room suddenly tumbled to the ground, and without a second thought she launched herself out of her room like her life depended on it.

She raced down the stairs and around a corner until she wormed her way into a familiar lap, her eyes screwed shut. The gentle chatter that had lulled her to sleep earlier abruptly stopped, replaced by her scared rambling.

“Somethin’ in the closet keeps thumpin’ around and the door was open but I closed it and there’s something in there and it’s gonna get me help please please please—!“

A finger to her lips and a gentle hug. She looked up at her concerned father with big round eyes.

“It’s okay, it’s okay. What’s wrong, little one?”

She took a deep breath and said, sternly: “Somethin’ going thump thump in my closet.”

“Okay,” he said with a smile, gently removing her from his lap and squeezing her hand for comfort. “Let’s go check it out together.”

They turned the corner and wound the stairs together until the light from downstairs became a soft glow behind them, and the young dragon hid behind her father for protection. The lamp was still on in her room, spilling that pale green light over everything. She peered past him into her room, squinting at the storage room door. It hadn’t moved.

“It was in there,” she whispered. He approached the door and swung it open with a loud, protesting creak. She let out an eep and covered her face with her wings, but there was no more sound, only silence. Her father hummed and turned back to her.

“There’s nothing in here, sweetness.”

“Are you sure?”

In response he turned on the storage room light and pushed his great head into the room, looking over the old items and clucking under his tongue. She took a tentative step into her room and peered in with him, poking her head under his leg. He was right, there was nothing but cobwebs and boxes and old relics and a smell like mildew. The smell of age. They both stared for a long minute, waiting for something to happen, but not even that old wooden door offered them any more sounds.

“Nothing,” he said with a nod. He withdrew his head, turned off the light, and closed the door gently, pulling on it until the latch engaged and they both knew it was closed. He turned to his daughter and planted a kiss on the top of her head.

“Now sleep, dear. Nothing will harm you.”

She smiled up at him as he left, but her tail wagged in doubt. The main door swished closed behind him, cloaking the room in green light that glinted off her golden bed like a million tiny yellow stars but did nothing to ease her mind. Tentatively, she approached her bed, never once taking her eyes off that awful wooden door. Even as she curled up into a tight little spiral, even as she laid her head down upon her tail, even as she settled and her heart calmed and sleep threatened to take her again, her eyes never left the door. She didn’t bother to turn the lamp off.

The door stared back impassively. In the soft light, its dull metal hinges and bolts winked at her like strange eyes, but it didn’t move, and no sound came. No thumps. No rustles or skitters or clatters. Not a single creak, or groan, or whine.

Maybe father was right, she reasoned. Her eyes were getting very heavy again and the silence was comforting. Maybe there’s nothing in there but mice and other small night things, and there’s nothing to be afraid of. Tail still twitching nervously, she watched the door for as long as she possibly could, but sleep caught her faster, and soon she was asleep again.

Thump.

She woke with a start, eyes immediately going to the storage room door. It was open a crack and she froze.

Thump. Creeeaak…

Horrified, she watched as that awful door eeked open another inch. Then another. Until its gaping darkness stared back at her, a darkness that even the glow of her lamp couldn’t touch. Everything stilled: motes of dust hanging in the air slowed to a stop and the gentle sounds of downstairs became quiet. Her breathing hitched in her throat and her muscles locked. Nothing moved. Nothing thumped.

Silence.

Something inside that horrible dark room lurched. Her heart went into her throat, caught in a silent scream. Something inside lurched and creeped out of the room, past the wooden door, a figure that was all arms and legs but no wings, no tail. Gangly and strange, otherworldly and bizarre. It paused and looked at her for a long, awful second, before darting out of her room and disappearing downstairs.

Dust slowly began to move again, conversation rippled back up from below, and she screamed.

It had only lasted a few precious seconds but she knew what she had seen. A nighttime boogeyman invoked to scare younglings when they were naughty. A fairy tale of something that had come before dragonkind. A legend, a myth, a cryptid. So many origins that not many believed in, but whispered about all the same.

Her parents would never believe her. Her friends would laud her as the bravest dragon around. She would never sleep in that room again.

It was a human.