The minds of children are powerful.
Untamed, innocent, magic.
As adults we grow out of that power, cynicism defeats our open minds.
Frederick Taylor is nine years old.
He knows there is a monster under his bed. He’s seen it. He’s talked to it.
But, Frederick has learned to protect himself.
Yeah, there’s something there. I’ve seen it. So has my sister but she won’t say so. It’s ugly. Really ugly! It tries to get me in my sleep.
He has a crafty smile. Nine years old and he has already figured out how to fight monsters.
My toys protect me. I line them up on the floor and they guard. I think they come to life at night, fight off the monster.
Sometimes when I wake up they’ll be hurt. Missing a leg or scratched up. That usually happens if I have a nightmare.
At night, his bed is circled with stuffed animals and action figures.
We used to tell him stories about the Cucuy. It was just something stupid my parents used to tell me to make me behave. We didn’t realize how sensitive he would be to it…he makes us check under the bed every night now.
He forms his own circle of protection, guarding against the monster under his bed.
His parents think that the Cucuy is just a story.
Stories start somewhere.