A Bestiary for Children Who Will Not Sleep

Thirteen nursery verses about the Vale's real monsters, by an aunt out of patience — twelve of them comforting lies, and the thirteenth, without warning, the truth.

My sister's three will not sleep unless the frightening things get frightened first, so here they are, all brought down to size — thirteen of them, in order, because that's how she says they have to be told. Don't skip any. Don't stop at twelve just because you think you're done. The cave troll lives where the dark is deep, A boulder of grey who loves his sleep, He only comes out to weep and moan, Because he is shy, and gets by alone. Hush now, little one, don't you fret — Nothing in the dark has caught you yet. The bog grub's blind and soft and small, He doesn't bite, he doesn't sting at all, He only wants a hand to hold And someone warm when the mud gets cold. Hush now, little one, don't you fret — Nothing in the dark has caught you yet. The ash-hound barks the whole night through, But barking's all he knows to do, He'd rather nap beside the fire Than chase a soul through hedge and mire. Hush now, little one, don't you fret — Nothing in the dark has caught you yet. The barrow wight is old and slow, He minds his coins and lets you go, He's cross that no one visits much, And wouldn't dream to give a touch. Hush now, little one, don't you fret — Nothing in the dark has caught you yet. The spider in the rafter beam Is smaller than a bad, bad dream, She spins because she likes to sew, And keeps her eight legs neat, just so. Hush now, little one, don't you fret — Nothing in the dark has caught you yet. The wolf that howls upon the hill Is only singing, means no ill, He misses home and wants his supper, And howls the loudest for his mother. Hush now, little one, don't you fret — Nothing in the dark has caught you yet. The bat that flits above the eave Is far too busy to deceive, He's counting moths and minding bees, And barely notices your knees. Hush now, little one, don't you fret — Nothing in the dark has caught you yet. The crow that taps upon the sill Is only bored, and means no ill, He knocks because he likes the sound, And flies off when the sun comes round. Hush now, little one, don't you fret — Nothing in the dark has caught you yet. The storm that grumbles round the roof Is just the sky, and there's the proof — It mutters like your grandad does, And means no more than grandad does. Hush now, little one, don't you fret — Nothing in the dark has caught you yet. The giant walking on the moor Has never once come near your door, His steps are slow, his eyes are dim, He's lost, and you're too small for him. Hush now, little one, don't you fret — Nothing in the dark has caught you yet. The thing that lives down in the well Has manners, and will never tell The wishes that you drop down there — He only listens, doesn't care. Hush now, little one, don't you fret — Nothing in the dark has caught you yet. And then, the dark that fills the room Is only dark, it's only room, It hasn't teeth, it hasn't eyes, It's just the day, taking its time to rise. Hush now, little one, don't you fret — Nothing in the dark has caught you yet. The last thing waits and won't lie still. It isn't sleepy; it never will. A door left open. A debt not paid. It wants the ending that was never made. Hush now, little one, don't you fret — Nothing in the dark has caught you yet.

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