TheBigShow: Once Upon A Time...
It’s three o’clock in the morning. You are sound asleep, but something in your bedroom is alive, and moving.
Murphy woke when the bed suddenly dipped and she wasn’t expecting it. Her bedroom was dark, the light from the street barely giving things a shadowy outline so she could see what was going on. Being a cop, she was alert and fully awake in seconds, body tensing slightly. There was a shadowy blob near by, but she couldn't make out any features. Then the smell of lavender and Dial soap reached her nose, and Murphy relaxed a little. She lifted the covers so her daughter could climb in under them. “Anna, baby girl, what are you doing here?” she asked, her voice soft and filled with concern. Since Anna was three years old, Murphy could pretty much count on her daughter to sleep through the night without trouble.
Anna slipped under with barely a sound, hiding under them so only the top of her head peeked out, along with her eyes. She scooted close, causing Murphy to put an arm around her as she tucked her head under Murphy's chin. “I had a bad dream.” Anna whispered, reaching a hand up to play with Murphy's circle necklace, a gift from Anna.
Murphy hugged her close and placed a kiss on the top of her head. “I’m sorry, baby. You want to tell me about it?” Anna shook her head and Murphy hugged her tighter. “It’s okay, baby, you’re safe now. You can tell me. I'll listen.”
Murphy wasn’t sure what to do about a nightmare. Give her a bad guy to chase down or a crime scene to work, and she didn’t have a problems. The grim, the gruesome, the ugly, she could handle. It was her job, after all. More importantly, that was her way of making people feel safe. When it came to her daughter and a nightmare she couldn’t fight or arrest, she felt a little awkward. She hated the idea of Anna being afraid of anything, even if it was just a dream. Dreams had a lot of power. Murphy knew that better than anyone.
Anna didn't want to talk though. Murphy couldn't force her either. That would just upset her daughter. The best idea she could come up with now was to distract Anna and get her thinking about something else. “Hey, you want to hear a story?” she said, running a hand over Anna’s hair.
“You’re bad at telling stories.” Anna muttered, still playing with the necklace.
“Hey!” Murphy drew back a little, looking down at her daughter with a mock frown. “I can tell a pretty good story.”
“Mom, the last time you told me a story, you forgot the princess’s name.” Anna raised an eyebrow in a perfect imitation of Murphy’s own eyebrow raise. Her daughter was sometimes so much like her, Murphy got a little worried. She didn't think the world could handle a smaller version of herself.
For a moment Murphy was quite, “Okay, so I’m bad a stories, but I’ve been practicing.” That wasn’t really a good thing though. Her reports had become more and more like prime time fiction every day. She was still struggling with that. “And I have a great story about a wizard named Harry and a princess…”
“Mom, J.K. Rowling already wrote that story.” After that, Murphy decided that a story was a bad idea. A tickle fight was a much better idea to cheer her daughter up. The fact that she won, cheered Murphy up.
Murphy woke when the bed suddenly dipped and she wasn’t expecting it. Her bedroom was dark, the light from the street barely giving things a shadowy outline so she could see what was going on. Being a cop, she was alert and fully awake in seconds, body tensing slightly. There was a shadowy blob near by, but she couldn't make out any features. Then the smell of lavender and Dial soap reached her nose, and Murphy relaxed a little. She lifted the covers so her daughter could climb in under them. “Anna, baby girl, what are you doing here?” she asked, her voice soft and filled with concern. Since Anna was three years old, Murphy could pretty much count on her daughter to sleep through the night without trouble.
Anna slipped under with barely a sound, hiding under them so only the top of her head peeked out, along with her eyes. She scooted close, causing Murphy to put an arm around her as she tucked her head under Murphy's chin. “I had a bad dream.” Anna whispered, reaching a hand up to play with Murphy's circle necklace, a gift from Anna.
Murphy hugged her close and placed a kiss on the top of her head. “I’m sorry, baby. You want to tell me about it?” Anna shook her head and Murphy hugged her tighter. “It’s okay, baby, you’re safe now. You can tell me. I'll listen.”
Murphy wasn’t sure what to do about a nightmare. Give her a bad guy to chase down or a crime scene to work, and she didn’t have a problems. The grim, the gruesome, the ugly, she could handle. It was her job, after all. More importantly, that was her way of making people feel safe. When it came to her daughter and a nightmare she couldn’t fight or arrest, she felt a little awkward. She hated the idea of Anna being afraid of anything, even if it was just a dream. Dreams had a lot of power. Murphy knew that better than anyone.
Anna didn't want to talk though. Murphy couldn't force her either. That would just upset her daughter. The best idea she could come up with now was to distract Anna and get her thinking about something else. “Hey, you want to hear a story?” she said, running a hand over Anna’s hair.
“You’re bad at telling stories.” Anna muttered, still playing with the necklace.
“Hey!” Murphy drew back a little, looking down at her daughter with a mock frown. “I can tell a pretty good story.”
“Mom, the last time you told me a story, you forgot the princess’s name.” Anna raised an eyebrow in a perfect imitation of Murphy’s own eyebrow raise. Her daughter was sometimes so much like her, Murphy got a little worried. She didn't think the world could handle a smaller version of herself.
For a moment Murphy was quite, “Okay, so I’m bad a stories, but I’ve been practicing.” That wasn’t really a good thing though. Her reports had become more and more like prime time fiction every day. She was still struggling with that. “And I have a great story about a wizard named Harry and a princess…”
“Mom, J.K. Rowling already wrote that story.” After that, Murphy decided that a story was a bad idea. A tickle fight was a much better idea to cheer her daughter up. The fact that she won, cheered Murphy up.