Gemotions

Eliza nearly dropped the mug of tea she held. Her jaw went slack, and she had to grip the counter for support. The drawing, a crude but vibrant depiction of a grinning, one-eyed monster, was undeniably Barnaby. Barnaby, her childhood companion, the boogeyman under her bed. The memory of him, a comforting evil, flooded back.

"Who's that, sweetie?" she managed, her voice a strained whisper. Her little nephew, Timmy, beamed up at her.

"Bartholomew!" he declared, his voice filled with glee. He then added, "He says he misses you." A frisson of something she couldn't name ran down Eliza's spine. It wasn't fear, exactly. It was… something else, something she hadn't felt in a very long time.