“I know where all the missing socks go.” A voice called, almost teasingly, from seemingly nowhere. I gasped and glanced around my room but I couldn’t find who was speaking.  I was just picking out socks and when I couldn’t find a complete pair, I muttered to myself, “Where do all my missing socks go?”  I hadn't expected a reply because I thought I was home alone so the mysterious voice startled me.  "Who said that?" I asked nervously. I had no idea what the voice's response would be.  I heard a giggle and the voice replied “The sock fairy!” I had never heard of a sock fairy before but before I could question them, I saw a small ball of orange light fly out of my sock drawer. I gasped and watched as it carried one of my favorite socks out my open window.  “No, wait! I’ll never be able to match the other sock again!” I called out but it was already too late, the sock fairy was gone. I flopped down on my bed and sighed. I had really wanted to wear my favorite socks today, but now that the sock fairy had stolen one I couldn’t.  I muttered to myself, “Now what am I supposed to do?”  Again, I wasn’t expecting a reply but another voice called, “You have to track down that thieving fairy and take back your socks.”  “Who are you?” I asked, making a mental note to stop talking to myself, so weird voices would stop answering me. “I’m your sock fairy godmother. Here to help you defeat the sock fairy and free all the stolen socks.” She said as another ball of light flew out of my sock drawer, but she was yellow instead of orange like the sock fairy.  “How'd you even get in here?”  I used to think fairies were just creatures made up by crazy people, but now that I had seen two with my own eyes I wasn’t sure what I believed. Maybe I  am a crazy person now. “I’ve been following that sock fairy to try to stop her from stealing socks but I haven’t been able to get to her in time. Her latest theft was here. Did you see where she flew off to?” “She went out that window.” I answered as I pointed at the open window.  “We have to start traveling that way then. I’ll be able to track her pixie dust trail even though it’s invisible to humans like you.” My sock fairy godmother said as she started flying toward the window.  “Wait,” I called out, “I never agreed to go anywhere. I already have plans for today, so you’re just going to have to save the socks by yourself.” My sock fairy godmother let out a gasp and I could hear the shock in her voice when she said, “But, I’m supposed to help you. I’m not supposed to do anything without you now that I’m your sock fairy godmother. Everyone else who had me as their sock fairy godmother have always had me help them.” I was supposed to meet up with my friend, Jane, in ten minutes so I had to get this over with quickly. I really didn’t see why my sock fairy godmother couldn’t do this by herself so I told her, “Well, maybe it’s time for a change. You seem perfectly capable of stopping the sock fairy by yourself. In fact, I didn’t even know fairies were real until today so you’re probably more capable than me.” “Well I..” My sock fairy godmother trailed off and it’s obvious no one else has ever not wanted to go on a journey with her. “I believe in you. Just follow the pixie dust trail like you said, then save the socks. You’ll be a hero.” I said, trying to convince her so she would leave me alone. “Well, if you really want me to, I guess I could do it by myself.” She said, still sounding uncertain.  “I really want you to.” I said with a fake smile. She was starting to annoy me with how long she was taking to leave.  “Ok, I’ll be on my way then.” She said as she started flying toward the window again.  “Good luck.” I called even though I couldn’t care less about how it went. I sighed and decided to just never think about this again, it was way too confusing.  I grabbed the one sock left from my favorite pair and pulled it on my foot. I love wearing my hot pink and black zebra striped socks but now I would just have to make do with only one. Then, I grabbed another sock from my drawer at random and pulled on the yellow and blue polka dot sock I happened to grab. They were anything but matching but I was running late for meeting Jane so I slipped on my shoes and grabbed my bag as I headed out to the diner I was supposed to meet Jane.  When I got to the diner five minutes later than I was supposed to be, I saw Jane and greeted her with “Hey, sorry I’m late.” “It’s fine. I was late too, just not as late as you.” We both laughed.  Jane noticed my mismatched socks and commented, “Nice socks. Couldn’t find a full pair?” I smiled sheepishly and answered “Yeah, I really wanted to wear the zebra striped one but the matching sock was gone this morning.”  “Why is it so hard to have a full pair of socks? It’s like they grow legs and walk away.” Jane said.  “Yeah.” I agreed and I thought to myself or like they get carried away by a sock fairy.

‘I know where all the missing socks go’

Little Timmy the dog wears them. He prances around in them all around the neighborhood and city. He walks pasts buildings where doormen tip their hats to him. He walks past people who look down and adore him and his socks. He walks past the mailmen who said the socks look familiar. He walks pasts cats who hiss at him until they see his socks. He walks past squirrels that stop in the middle of the road to look at him. When he gets close to home, he buries them in a shallow hole underneath his favorite post. Then he jumps back into bed with his best friend and falls asleep after all of his adventures.

in jessica’s lip filler i didnt wanna rat her out like this but she stuffs all my favortie fuzzy socks in her lips

she looks like a duck now that she has a new hobby of stuffing my socks in her lips

jessica, if you’re reading this, STOP TAKING MY SOCKS its not funny anymore i wonder how good it would feel to pull 13 pairs of socks out of your lips

but i guess i’ll never know 😔

"I know where all the missing socks go."

"What?" I chuckled a bit at my toddler's sudden interruption to the short-lived quiet I'd earned myself by entertaining her with a new--more expensive than I would've normally gone for--toy from the store. It was interesting enough to have kept her occupied for about a record-breaking thirty minutes before she spoke up again. With something intriguing, no less. Maddie was only four and a half, but had a vivid imagination that I adored and encouraged for her. We didn't always have money on hand to afford every new, fancy toy firetruck that lit up and blared little sirens when you pressed different buttons, or every frilly, glittery dress she saw when we went to the store, so for her to find near-unlimited joy in running around the house shouting and giggling over what new adventures her mind had created for today was a relief. We weren't dirt broke, per se; we just couldn't afford everything that some of the other families could, and if she hadn't noticed it already, then it wouldn't be long before she did. She was a bright kid, and there was no denying it, but I hoped that she would stay blissfully unaware of the little things she was missing out on until I got that raise my boss had been promising and rent went back down again. But I could worry about that later. For now, I could entertain my little girl's newest adventure.

"The socks!" she announced, smiling, "they go missing, and--and I know where they all go." She fidgeted around with her hands animatedly like a lot of little kids do when they're talking, having turned away completely from her newest toy: an electronic dinosaur with bendable parts that opened and closed its mouth when you moved it a certain way and made sounds like roars and growls when you pressed a button on its side. She'd been on a dinosaur kick for a while, taking a break from her usual interest in toy vehicles with flashy colors and lights, and when I saw it at the store, I just couldn't help myself. I was sure she'd love it, and even if she had her imagination to entertain her whenever it had been a while since she got anything new to play with, I wanted her to have the experience of getting spontaneous gifts; a delight I never had as a kid. And of course, when I brought it home and presented it to her, she was ecstatic, and wouldn't even tear her eyes away from it for half an hour straight. I was beyond overjoyed.

"Oh really?" I drawled out, sounding as clearly intrigued as possible, "can you tell me where they all go?" I leaned in, having moved from the couch where I had been re-reading a favorite book of mine to kneel on the carpet down on her level.

"No!" She squealed, giggling to herself loudly.

I gasped dramatically, clutching my chest with one hand. "I don't get to know? Well why not?" I kept up a playfully offended expression to go all in on my act.

She giggled some more before she spoke between laughs, "Because--because it's a secret!"

"Oh yea?" I laughed along, "well, you know, mommy is really good at keeping secrets." I leaned in close and whispered dramatically, "so if you tell me I won't tell anyone!"

Maddie hummed loudly as if considering my offer, before doing some excited little hops and proclaiming, "okay, but you can't--you can't tell people, cause--cause it's a secret, and you don't tell secrets, okay?"

I wondered to myself where she'd gotten the whole "secrets" bit, since as far as I could remember, as of yet I hadn't gotten around to explaining the concept, and if I had, then it wasn't very in-depth. Promises, deals, and lying I'd gone over at least a few times, since they'd come up every so often, but not secrets. I decided that I'd ask her father about it later; not that I was all that worried about it. If she was discovering new things on her own, perhaps from overhearing her father and I talking, then that was just another sign that she was remarkably smart for her age.

"Oh, I promise I won't tell anyone," I smiled confidently and whispered in close, "not even dad."

Maddie giggled and bounced on her toes with excitement before she leaned in too, holding her hands up to cup around her mouth secretively as she whispered into my ear, "the holes in the house."

I paused at that. I was expecting something more like a monster that steals clothes, or about how they magically disappear, or anything else like the wild and fun scenarios she normally came up with. This was...different. For a moment, I'd forgotten I was supposed to be playing along and my expression faltered, and she looked at me with a confused expression. I then remembered my role and smiled again, playing up a laugh. "The holes in the house?" I asked enthusiastically, "where do the holes go?"

Her expression returned to giddy and she laughed. "The big room!"

Again, I faltered, but maintained my expression. This was different from her usual elaborate stories, but she was clearly still having fun. I had to keep it up. Surely this was going somewhere. "Wow! How big is the big room?"

"Super duper super big!" She exclaimed, throwing her hands up and out to emphasize her storytelling.

"Wow!" I returned, stretching my arms out to mimic her, "and where is the big room?"

She hummed thoughtfully, putting a hand to her chin as if in contemplation. I was sure she'd seen her dad do it more than a few times. "I don't know where it is," she started, "but it's where Rufus went."

I froze. My expression fell to one that must've looked almost scared. I tried to find the words. I might've been holding my breath. I swallowed thickly and tried to compose myself. "Honey," I said, my voice gentle, but a bit too shaky, "you know Rufus passed away. It's very bad to tell lies about someone who passed away."

Rufus. Didn't think I'd have to hear about him again this soon, much less from my toddler, and much less in one of her make-believe stories like this. Our five-year-old cat had died less than a week ago. We buried him in the backyard, since our town didn't have a pet cemetery, and because somehow it just felt right to have him buried instead of cremated. So we had a family service and everything for him, bought a small gravestone with his name engraved in it, and let the little memorial serve as a marker for his final resting spot right at home; his home. Sometimes Maddie would go up to the gravestone and talk to him in her baby voice like she always did, or toss his stuffed toy mice or cat treats onto the disturbed topsoil in front of it. It was sweet, while it lasted. Two days after he was buried, we came home from picking Maddie up from preschool to find that the grave had been dug up, the cardboard box he had been buried in was sitting open in the grass, and Rufus was gone. We had to console Maddie for hours after that, and anytime his name came up, she'd start crying all over again. We assumed that a predatory bird or a stray dog that hopped the fence had scavenged him, but what had happened didn't really matter at that point. We brought the gravestone inside and set it on a shelf, but later had to put it up and out of view when Maddie kept crying anytime she saw it. So for her to come to me, making up stories about Rufus...it was rattling.

"I know he passed away," she chimed casually, "and now he's in the big room, cause we don't need him anymore."

That struck something in me. "Maddie," I said, sternly, "we don't make up stories about someone who died. Never."

"It's not a story!" she whined, "that's where he went! I promise!"

I was getting agitated, and I was trying to keep my cool, but this was going too far. It was so unlike her to do inappropriate things like this. "Madison, we do not lie, and we do not make promises that aren't true," I emphasized. I was trying not to tear up.

"I'm not lying! I promise!" she practically cried.

I realized that she was getting upset as well, and I forced myself to take a breath and backtrack. Maybe she'd had a bad dream and thought this was one of her stories. Or maybe she heard something from a movie. She wouldn't lie like this unless there was a reason. I steadied myself. "Ok," I said as coolly as I could, "I believe you." I thought for a moment. "Can you...show me the holes in the house...that lead to the big room?" I almost felt foolish asking, but if I could get her in a position where she couldn't prove it all, maybe she'd admit she was lying, or realize that she'd imagined it all.

She sniffled a bit but nodded quickly and started to run off into the house. I staggered to my feet from where I had been sitting on the floor and followed her into her bedroom, where she was standing in front of her open closet door, just pointing into it, lip trembling slightly and eyes watering. I carefully stepped into the room, as if in anticipation, but forced myself to calm down with a few slow breaths. There is nothing wrong.

I walked toward the closet to look where she was pointing. There is nothing wrong.

I looked at her, but she only stared back at me with a determined look, just pointing. There is nothing wrong.

I took a deep breath and stepped closer, leaning down and peering inside, looking between toy boxes and pushing clothes on hangers out of the way until something caught my eye. There is nothing wrong.

On the far left side of her small closet, towards the corner, it looked like there was something dark on the floor. There is nothing--

A hole. A trick of the light? No. I was sure. There was a tennis ball-sized hole in the floor where the carpeted floor and the wall met. A shaky breath left my mouth dry and agape as I stared at it. From what little I could see in the dark closet, there was nothing particularly off about it aside from the fact that there was a hole to begin with. Its very presence in the closet, in my house, its audacity to exist at all, for some reason filled me with an inexplicable fear. Or perhaps it was a fear of something inexplicable. The second it dawned on me, I snatched my phone out of my pocket so quick I nearly dropped it, and I turned on the flashlight, aiming for the hole to get a good look at the thing, all the while my daughter just standing in my peripheral vision, unmoving.

My throat was dry. I could feel the perspiration from my fright gathering enough to feel on my skin, gathering on my eyelashes; or perhaps it was the tears pooling in my eyes. I really couldn't tell. I couldn't pull an ounce of my attention away from the hole. It was strangely...perfect. A perfect circle in the floor, or perhaps a bit more than a half-circle, as some of it seemed to disappear under the wall of the closet. The hole was utterly and disturbingly dark. No matter what angle I held the light at--though I didn't try to step any closer--I couldn't actually see into the hole, nor could I see what one might call the "side" of the floor. Put simply, beyond the seemingly two-dimensional hole in the floor, there was nothing past that line to even imply that it was a hole. One might've assumed it just was a very, very, impossibly dark painted circle, since you couldn't see into it or through it, nor see the walls of the hole, if there were any. It was just...a hole. But none of that was what made me squint my eyes at a detail that caught my attention, nor what made me dare to move closer, even kneel down on the floor to get a better look, nor what made my breath catch in my throat and my heart sink and my stomach twist once I realized what I was looking at and a horrible reality came into fruition. No. Something else made me shriek wildly, startling my daughter so badly that she screamed too, before I haphazardly hoisted her up into my arms and sprinted out of that room and out of the house, slamming the front door behind me hard enough to startle Maddie again, who was already crying and begging me, asking me what was wrong, what was going on. But I didn't stop running until I was on the other side of the street, stopping on the sidewalk to gasp for breath and set Maddie down to briefly console her, telling her it was okay, that I believed her, that she didn't lie to me, babbling about getting ice-cream later and a new toy dinosaur before I regained enough sanity to realize I'd left my phone in the house. I picked Maddie up again and went to knock desperately on the door of my neighbor whose house I'd stopped in front of, who let me in immediately upon seeing how distraught we both were. The kind old woman let me use her cellphone to call my husband, so I could beg him to leave work immediately and come to our neighbor's house, giving little explanation. I pondered calling 9-1-1, but I argued internally about whether this was worth it, or how I could even explain it to them. What was there to explain? In my mind I played out the scenario where I called the police and tried to show them the hole, only for it to have disappeared out of thin air by the time we got there. Then they would call me crazy. Call me an unfit mother for scaring my kid like this with such a grotesque delusion. They'd take her away. The thoughts and the fear ran through my mind faster than I could handle them, but I tried to shut it down. He would be here any minute now, and we would figure it out. It would be okay.

As I sat in my neighbor's living room, bouncing my leg apprehensively while my neighbor and her wife distracted my daughter with sweets and board games, I couldn't help the recurring images of what I'd seen flashing through my mind over and over again. The gut-punch of realizing what I'd been looking at was nearly as bad as what it was. The hole, as I concluded, was not perfect. It looked clean and untarnished from a distance, especially in the dark, but up close, with light, there was more. Rufus. Or rather, I supposed, traces of him. Lining the edges of the hole, there were dried, reddish-brown and deep red stains in the carpet and on the side of the white-painted wall. There were red bits of something chunkier in some places, and in others there were little tufts of orange or white fur. Rufus was a rather large cat. Not a Maine Coon, but on the bigger side. He was heftier, too, and I knew some of it was my daughter sneaking him pieces of turkey or ham from dinner. My dead, fifteen-pound orange cat and the barely tennis ball-sized hole in the floor dirtied with traces of him created a gruesome picture in my head that would likely plague my dreams and nightmares for a long time, if not the rest of my life.

Maddie was telling the truth. I hated it. But it was true. I left Maddie with my neighbors after my husband arrived, tires squealing in an abrupt stop just outside before he ran into the house to embrace us both, bombarding me with questions about what on Earth I'd been babbling about on the phone and why Maddie and I were crying, but I just pulled him outside and started to march back to the house. I didn't want Maddie to be with us when we went back to it.

To my relief and slight astonishment, the hole was still there when we got to the closet. I was still half-expecting it to be magically gone and for my husband to call me insane, and yet, there it was. Using the flashlight from my phone that was still lying on the floor, I showed him what had prompted my desperate call. He ended up storming out of the room and out of the house to dry heave in the grass, while I tried not to break down sobbing as the reality started to weigh down on me. As if it hadn't already. I suppose it just became all the more real once I was sure I wasn't hallucinating it all. After we both calmed down from the sight, we composed ourself as best we could and joined our daughter again.

We weren't sure how to approach explaining any of this to our neighbors even if we wanted to, but they were beyond understanding and accepting, going off of our demeanor. They let us into a guest bedroom for some privacy amongst ourselves, and they even offered to let us stay over for a night or two while we sorted out whatever this was, but we politely declined, swearing we'd be fine just finding a motel. Still, we did take them up on spending a bit of time in the guest bedroom to talk alone.

After some uneasy silence with the door closed behind us, Maddie surprisingly spoke up first. "Mommy?" She asked, voice small in a way that broke my heart, "am I in trouble?" She sounded so scared, and I just pulled her into a hug, trying to hide the tears forming in my eyes.

"No, no, sweetie, no, you're not in trouble," I comforted, my voice cracking and shaking, "you told the truth even though I didn't believe you, even though you promised you weren't lying, and I am so sorry, sweetie."

My husband joined us, and we were just kneeled on the floor for a long moment in a worried embrace.

"Don't cry, mommy," she chimed in sweetly.

"Oh, don't worry," I assured, wiping my damp face with the long sleeve of my shirt, "mommy's just...just..." I stopped. "Um...sweetie?" I tried to level my voice. "How did you know? About the hole? How did you find it?"

"I was looking for my socks!" She exclaimed, far too nonchalantly, "I had a big bunch of socks that got ripped, so I didn't need them anymore, so they were for the trash, but then I couldn't find them anymore, and I was looking all over the place. Then I found the hole under my bed first, and one of my socks under there, and then--"

"What?" I interrupted, sounding on the verge of hysterical as I gripped her shoulders, trying not to fall apart, "what do you mean, under your bed? The hole was in your closet. You showed me."

"I only found that one yesterday," she said, "I found the one under my bed a while ago."

Yet another punch to my stomach had me sickened all over again. My mouth was unbearably dry and I tried to swallow nothing as I prepared my question, recalling something from earlier that my daughter had said, but that I apparently forgot, having brushed it off when I didn't believe Maddie's tall tale. I had so many questions. Too many questions. And worse than that, a fear for the answer. I feared something that I didn't understand. Something that I wished I had never learned about, or even better, had never existed. I feared the unknown, and yet feared the thought of what it would mean to know.

"Sweetie," I rasped, "how many are there?"

“I know where all the missing socks go” he said barging into my room, clutching single socks of varying patterns and designs.

I reached for the light and left him in the dark, the rustling of sheets and gave him a “goodnight”

I was tired of his shenanigans, bursting into the room saying he’d found aliens, was digging a hole to the world below, finding a shadow government to order spies to do menial labour. And now… socks.

“N-no no this time it’s real, I found why and where all the socks go missing. Just come take a look” his voice heightened and grew more stumbling as he spoke. Desperation really creeped in.

“I just need to tell someone, and I only have 4 followers on my blog. If I tell them something else I think I might get reported”

“You already did get reported” I responded, mildly upset that I had spoke up at all.

“Ok yeah I did but I need to show someone who can actually see what I saw!”

“I’ll gouge your eyes if this is bullshit again” I huffed, clicking the light back on. To his slight smile. “Fuck you” I mumble under my breath. Pulled into his shenanigans once again.

Getting up and out of bed, sliding on slippers and giving him a side eye as he smiled and fell back a little at my stare.

As I walk with him he begins to explain. “So, there’s these networks of tunnels all around the city, and these strange almost silk woven creatures. Right?”

“…sure”

“And- and they have tunnels in dark corners especially around the laundry room, so each time the laundry is done and dried it’s taken.”

“…”

“So you might wonder, ‘what do they use them for’ well, they use them as medicine, like a bandage but it gets absorbed into them”

I stop and look at him.

He opens the laundry room.

“Take a look” he tells me.

Waddling around the laundry room are silken living creatures using the laundry room like a business centre.

“Fuck you” I said less mumbled than before.

“Aren’t they great?”

“Where the hell are we going to do laundry? And what are these things?”

“They’re oklings, little creatures made from the worm and torn fibres of dead skin and fabric.”

“Ah yes of course that makes sense, oklings are naturally born fr- WHAT THE FUCK IS WEONG WITH YOU?!”

“They do the laundry for us, they only take a sock for all their work, and I’ve now set up a trade system”

“Can I trade you for anything else?”

“Give them a fabric of a certain size and they’ll give back valuables”

“So you’d be worthless, got it”

“Aren’t they fascinating?”

“Totally, I’m going back to bed, your sock people can live in the laundry room, but if they take any of my clothes I’m burning them” I say, walking out of the room, hoping to hop into bed and fall asleep. Preferably to wake up to a laundry room not occupied by fabric cats and the insane roommate with me.

Fucking conspiracies…

I know where all the missing socks go. I do. I swear to God I do. I can’t tell you though. If I were to tell you, I’d have to kill you. I would. No, I’m serious. I really would. Honestly I’ve probably already said too much. I know you’re like a brother to me. I know you’re like an uncle to my kid. I’d have to kill you though. I would. I swore to never tell. If I told, they’d kill me too. So we both would be dead. You don’t want that, do you? I didn’t think so. So anyway, what was I saying? Oh yeah. Sorry about your divorce, bud.

I am kallia from California and I am 7 years old, my parents always say where do all the socks go, I always know the answer but I never tell them. All of the socks go to my best friend, his name is dandelion. I don’t really know what he is, he is a yellow fluffy thing, with the softest fur, a green long tail with koala ears, and purple feet. But he loves socks he wears them on his feet, he has them on his hands, and he has one on his tail. He also made a blanket and a pillow out of socks, he lives in. My room and he sleeps under my bed. I don’t tell my parents about him because they would kick dandelion out of the house. He is a little bit hard to hide because sometimes he has scraps of socks everywhere. So I have to pick them up. He also has a big bushy tail that sometimes sticks out of under my bed. So I just quickly through a blanket over his tail. He dose t talk very much so I taught him sign language. He knows that pretty well. It’s good having dandelion around. The only downside to haveing him is he takes all of the socks.

“I know where all the missing socks go!” Marley yelled enthusiastically skipping across the kitchen tile floor.

An ear to ear grin on her face, baby blue eyes locked on her mothers green eyes. Her little blue Jean short pockets tugged up by her hands. Of course she’d forgotten the small cloth belt.

“Where do they go baby?” Her mother laughed going back to the small pile of dishes in the sink from lunch.

“Well I caught the sock monster” Marley ran to the fridge and flung it open. “He’s trapped under the laundry basket in my room”

Grabbing from it a slice of bologna from the package, two strawberries, and a single bag of cheese blocks she loved to devour.

“Well great job Monster Hunter Marley!” Her mother coed her congratulations, knowing full well her daughter was keen on her overactive imagination. “You better not snack to much before dinner!”

“It’s not for me mom. Duhhh it’s for the sock monster” She said sassily, climbing the steps.

Upstairs Marley slowly walks to her bedroom door. Eager to see her captive creature again. Of course the sock monster wasn’t her first captive. Bunnies, the neighbors cat, even a squirrel had already fallen for her sly traps.

Stepping through the door it’s glowing gold eyes quickly locked on hers. A low growl starting to grow as it tossed a scaly black tail against to long white plastic basket. Which had been secured by string to the ceiling, then two large groups of books stacked on top to stop its escape.

She’d used a pile of her older sister socks to make it come out from underneath the bed. Yet it’s small dragon like appearance made her shiver a bit. Then came the scream the even the sock monster hugged it’s head with its front claws.

Marley turned and watched her horrified mother glaring at the beast frozen in place. Instead of being afraid Marley just giggled.

“See I told you” A smile clear on her small features.

“Honey…. I …. Get away from that thing” Her mother warned taking two steps back as Marley moved closer with the plate of snacks.

“It’s a sock monster. Not a kid eating monster. You silly” Marley giggled and grabbed a strawberry and started to move it to the handle opening of the basket.

“Marley get away from that thing!” Her mother screamed again fearfully as the beast opened its mouth to two rows of sharp teeth.

It’s long pink tongue grabbed the berry and it rolled it around for a second before spitting it to the floor. Wet yet untouched by its teeth.

“Maybe it only eats socks” Marley wondered dropping in two cubes of cheese.

“Marley! Please baby. Move away from that thing” Her mother was now on her knees begging the girl to move away.

Instead of mouthing the cubes it just sniffed it and gave a gawking noise that Marley realized ment “yuck”. Then it dawned on her, and she grabbed a few of her sisters leftover socks off her bed. Tossing them into the hole. A gleeful look crossed the beasts face and it quickly swallowed them up. Letting out a small burp.

“I guess it only eats socks” Marley shrugged her shoulders and looked back at her mom who was starting to crawl on her knees towards her.

“Let it go. We need to go” Her moms eyes filled with tears as she reached for the girl.

“Shade…. Can’t stay?” Marleys lip started to quiver as she looked back at the beast.

“No it can’t”

“Fine!” Marley kicked over the basket and Shade leaped for the gap under her bed.

In an instant Marley was after it. A purple glow appearing as it slipped away. Marley quickly jumping after it. Mom grabbing her ankle as she leaped.

Swirling colors filled the room, it no longer seemed still. Everything was spinning around and then it was interrupted by a splash and wetness.

Marley was only an arms reach away from the shoreline. The beast she’d named Shade was looking at them both horrified. Mother slipped up onto the white sandy shore and flopped onto her back.

The apron soaked against her clothes, yoga pants sticking to her old band t-shirt. As she watched the Marley trying to pet the beast. It quickly took to the air, it’s wings erupted from its back and it zipped through the air.

Marley started to sob as her mother tried to get her bearings. The sky over the water was littered with large floating rock formations, each littered with greenery. Clouds floated around them and it was awe inspiringly beautiful. Yet it was not Marley’s bedroom.

‘I know where all the missing socks go. They go to the room I’m locked in that’s were everything missing goes it’s how I survive no escape not much food not much to drink only hope of not dying is when scraps go missing or bottles of water most days I go hungry I have toys to use Lego goes missing a lot I have a pile of batteries. Nothings useful to me but one day a person appeared She ran up to me and asked where she was How should I know I replied. she pointed out that I lived here so I explained that I survive here not live,’ I said to her meatless skeleton trying to settle my conscience

“I know where all the missing socks go.” Detective Socky McSock glanced up at the young sock that had entered his office.

“I’m sorry?” McSock asked, leaning across his desk, suddenly intrigued. The Case Of The Missing Sock-Persons was a case his task force had been working on for sixty-eight days. They’d had 0 suspects and 0 leads, and all the dead ends were giving McSock a sockgraine.

The first sock to disappear was Jardyce Sockton, a five month-old bar hostess from Primark. She had taken an outing to a friend’s club, The Washing Mac, and hadn’t returned home to her drawer the next morning. Word spread quickly around the community when her fiancé Gerald Thompsock reported her officially missing after she did not turn up for a week.

Linda Sockylen, a senior sockizen identifiable by the tear in her fifth toe, went to fetch groceries on the morning of Saturday 11th June, barely 14 days after Jardyce’s disappearance. Linda did not return to her cupboard, leaving her long time partner John Sockoe in considerable stress. Her drawer cohort sent out an appeal to the public offering stitching to anyone who could come forward with information related to Linda’s whereabouts.

Three more victims, whose names their families chose not to share, also vanished around the same area. None of them had been found in the two months since the case had been assigned to Detective Socky McSock.

So to see this young sock standing in Socky’s office, boldly claiming to know where the missing socks had vanished to, was an astonishing sight for Detective McSock.

“Take me to the socks.”