Some people have a monster under the bed. Skeletons in the closet. This of course opposed guardian angels and helpful spirits.

I had a guardian monster.

When I was a child I ran into the woods near our old house. I would all the time to play in the creek. That’s where I promised my parents to go.

But the little butterfly landed on my nose and I took it as a sign that it was vital to follow it.

It was only midday, so I skipped happily and clambered over the fallen logs. The little butterfly landed on such a log. It was the most iridescent butterfly and it captivated my whole attention.

So I didn’t notice the little creature shuffling from out the slowly rotting log. Not until it pulled at the wild tangles in my hair.

I leapt back; and so did it. The butterfly sprang into the air. But I refused to remove my gaze from the little creature on all fours with the strangest eyes and plagued seeming complexion.

It leapt into the air like a kitten with a string. Shuffling over to me with a wide smile, it opened its closed palms to show the unharmed butterfly.

It never spoke, but was so much more fun than the other girls who sneered at my unkempt hair.

No-one ever saw it, only ever joining me. We grew older, yet I always visited it.

Then Abigail snipped my hair in the school bathroom. “It’s so bad, this is honestly an improvement.”

I couldn’t go home so I sat by the creek. I told it everything, even though I was convinced it knew no English.

The next day Abigail was absent.

Rumours soon spread after that she became bald overnight. We moved away soon after. But it followed, rapping on my window with a caterpillar as a gift. And I was frightened.

I grew up, but I’m still scared.

Not of it. It would never harm me. But the lengths it might go to to protect me.