Yellow Bird Pt. 2 [By MuffinMantis]

Part One

Pan scrunched his eyes tight, trying desperately to fall asleep. But although he’d done all he could to exhaust himself before bedtime, he was still wide awake. Pwease! Pan jus’ wan sweepies! If he slept, Mr. Laughy wouldn’t come to visit him. But he couldn’t fall asleep.

Long before he saw Mr. Laughy, he heard it. The quiet chuckling laugh, the one that echoed in Pan’s nightmares. And he smelled it. The stench that clung to Mr. Laughy whenever he appeared. Pan shook, but kept his eyes closed, pretending to sleep. It never worked.

Paaaaaan,” Mr Laughy said, through a bout of wheezing giggles. “You can’t fooooool me. I know you’re awake.”

Pan closed his eyes tighter, not wanting to see the face he knew was inches from his own. He could feel the noxious, damp warmth across his face. Every day, Mr. Laughy got a little bolder, and a little crueler. Pan knew that sooner or later he wouldn’t make it through the night.

"Paaaaaan. Open your eyes," Mr. Laughy said in his awful, rasping voice, random syllables dragged out as fits of laughter.

He refused. If he didn’t see Mr. Laughy, maybe he’d be left alone. Maybe he could just fall asleep if he tri-

“S…c…r…e…e…” he gasped, his pitiful attempt at a scream drawing more giggles, as something draped across his neck. Something cold, and wet, and smooth. “Daddeh…sabe…Pan…”

“He woooon’t save you. He doesn’t knooooow about meeeee. Tellllll him, Pan. He’ll throw you away. Nobody loves a broooooken fluffy.”

“Daddeh…wubs…Pan…”

“Loooooove? You’rrrrrre just a burden. Juuuuuust another shitrat. You know thaaaaat.”

“Nu! Pan nu am shitwat!” Pan somehow found the strength to protest, in spite of Mr. Laughy’s ethereal grasp on his throat and chest.

“You arrrrrrrrre. Just anooooootherrrr bad fluffy. Just a coward who let his mother die.”

The lack of giggling in the last few words only made it somehow worse. Somehow, Mr. Laughy knew Pan’s deepest fears and regrets. Things he’d only ever shared with daddeh. And the monster was more than willing to capitalize on them.

“You’rrrre lucky, Paaaaan. I woooooorked sooo hard for yoooooou. I found herrrr.”

“Mummah?” Pan asked, opening his eyes against his will. He barely flinched at the frozen rictus of Mr. Laughy’s unmoving face. Mummah was alive? He looked around, but didn’t see her.

“Look uuuuuuup, Paaan.”

With renewed horror, he looked up, and saw mummah hanging by a hook. Or half of her, anyway. The lower half was gone, intestines hanging freely. Her fluff was patchy, and the bare flesh underneath crawled with maggots. Pan realized what’d been touching his neck.

“Nuuuuuuuuuuu!”

“It’sssss okay, Pan. Sheeee died to save yooooou. Thaaaat’ssss what you waaanted, isn’t iiiit?”

“Nu…nu wan. Nu wan nu wan nu wan.”

“She’d be saaaad to know you doooon’t want to seeeee her.”

“NU WAN! NU WAN SEE!”

“Thaaaat can beeee arranged,” Mr. Laughy burst into maniacal laughter, and Pan barely had time to flinch before the monster’s hands engulfed his face in a reeking prison.


August groaned as his alarm went off. Tempted as he was, he knew he couldn’t afford to hit sleep on it again. With a half-gurgled sigh he reached up and pulled off the mask. He loved Pan, but having the fluffy really put a damper on his sleep. He never felt rested after he’d worn the mask.


Pan shrieked as he woke up, eyes opening in a heartbeat. His fear quickly subsided as he realized it was daytime again. He was safe, at least until tonight. The thought sent gnawing worms burrowing into his stomach, but even that couldn’t suppress the hunger.

As always, Mr. Laughy hadn’t left even a trace of his presence. Sometimes Pan wished the monster would actually hurt him, if only so he’d have some evidence to show daddeh, to prove the monster’s existence. If only so daddeh would believe him.


“PWEASE, DADDEH! NU WEABE PAN AWONE! PAN AM SCAWED!”

August pinched the bridge of his nose. Again with this nonsense?

“You’re going to be okay. It’s just bad dreams, Pan. Nothing’s going to happen to you.”

“Pwease, daddeh! Wet Pan sweep in daddeh’s woom?”

“No!” August burst out, before calming himself. “No, Pan. You know the rules. No going into daddeh’s room. You’re going to be okay. Tell you what, I’ll leave the TV on for you.”

“Otay…” Pan agreed reluctantly. Maybe it would help. Maybe daddeh was right. Maybe it was all just bad dreams.

Part Three

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