Insurance Claim 202 – Item 3: “The Heroic Exploits of Juniper J”

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[Note: If Matthew is reading this – GET OUT OF MY STUFF, BUTT MUNCHER]

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First thing, a couple of points:

1: This is NOT a diary. Diaries or for little girls to fill with baby stuff and draw hearts over the I’s. I’m ten, that’s closer to a teenager than a baby. This is a journal logbook historical document of my heroics.

2. I am NOT writing this because Dr. Shwartz told me to. What they wanted was me to write down all my feelings: how I get angry sometimes, when I’m scared, my worries about the world blah blah blah. That’s not what this book is.

3. I, Juniper Jenkins, of sound mind, in a fully awake state, do declare:

I have a monster living in my closet.

Whoever is reading this, you can pause here and wait for the shock to cease.

Let me set the stage. As Detective Clops always says – to follow a trail of hoof prints, you need to start at the beginning. (And NO, Detective Clops - Pony P.I. is not a show for babies. It has a lot of grown-up themes. Shut up.)

It was two months ago, just before Christmas. I remember that, because at first I thought it might have been Santa. I’m not saying I still believe in Santa. It just made sense at the time.

It was its eye I remember seeing first. You know how sometimes you wake up in the night and it’s dark, and you look around your room to see if there’s anything scary? And there never is, but then you worry you’re just not looking hard enough? Like, I don’t see anything in the corner of my room, but maybe if I keep looking and my eyes adjust, I’ll realize what I thought was a shadow was actually something else? Like you’re tricking yourself into getting scared?

This wasn’t like that.

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I saw its eye the second I woke up. I don’t know what time it was. Late. Or early, I guess.

I swear I close my closet every night. But that night, it was open, just a crack. It’s one of those closets with two doors that are actually four doors, that close in the middle. Like this: [Humboldt County Fire Brigade Note, Supplemental – an illustration of a bi-fold door is included below the text. See Evidence Item 2-D]

Anyway, it was open, like a few inches. And one eye was looking at me right from the middle of the gap, close to the floor, like someone was on their hands and knees. As I said, at first, I thought it could be Santa. Mom always says he enters people’s homes at night, and while that’s usually a bad thing, Santa is the exception.

But I kept looking at the eye, and it looked at me. And I began to think, Why is Santa’s eye so shiny? It looked almost like a cat’s eye, or other animals you see at night. I remember seeing a racoon on a nature show dad and I were watching. We watch a lot of them - he says it’s bonding but I think he just likes watching TV. Anyway, these raccoons, Dad said they had special eyes because they were nockedturtle and needed to see in the dark. That made sense. It’s why they were shiny.

Did Santa need shiny eyes to see?

I stared at it for maybe a minute before it blinked at me. Sideways.

I may be 10, but I’m old enough to admit I screamed and ran from bed. Mom and dad met me in the hallway – they looked almost as scared as I felt.

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And of COURSE when I brought them back to my room, there was nothing there. The closest was its usually messy self, with my old stuffed animals and school projects covering the floor. I mean, who cleans a closet? It’s a closet.

I’m not going to pretend I know where the monster went. As Detective Clops says, an investigator doesn’t start with the answers. They put their nose down and sniff them out.

My parents told me it was bad dream. I’m not dumb. I know what it’s like to be dreaming.

They said it was because of fireworks next door being set off that scared me. And ya, I used to be scared of fireworks, but I’ve outgrown that. This year my parents had bought a whole pile of them for new years, but decided last minute not to use them. They said the weather wasn’t great, but I think they didn’t want to risk spooking me. Whatever.

But every night it kept coming back. I’d hear it at first – the rustling in my closet, strange noises like a bike tire losing air. Sometimes the closet would stay all the way closed. Sometimes I’d wake up to find it wide open. I told my parents, I kept telling them. But all that got me was a visit to Dr. Shwartz WHO ALSO BETTER NOT BE READING THIS.

My parents said they were worried about me, and worried that the stuff I was saying was going to spook Matthew. To that I say: He’s six. He’s got to learn about Monsters someday. And who better to teach him.

So that’s where things stood for a week – weird noises and the occasional eye watching me from my closet, and trips to Dr. Shwartz, who is probably a nice man, but let’s just say he clearly doesn’t know the first thing about monsters. I don’t know what they teach at Doctor School, but it’s clearly not enough.

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Last night scared me.

I woke up, not facing the closet. I didn’t like looking at the closet anymore – I’m not saying I thought it was all in my head, but maybe my parents were onto something. Maybe ignoring it would make the monster go away.

But then I tried to roll over and couldn’t.

I was blocked, like my pillows or blankets had rolled up and were making a wall beside me.

So I rolled over in place.

I was staring right into an eye, literally centimeters from my face.

I’m proud to say that this time I didn’t just scream, I swung. In the dark, I couldn’t see who or what I was trying to hit, but I flapped every one of my limbs. Detective Clops says to use your brain over your hoofs, but Clops never woke up with a monster in their bed (I think, I still have another season to watch).

Whatever was beside me took my punches like it was nothing, and I heard a massive thump as it left its spot on my bed and hit the floor. I ran for the door and out my room. This time my parents didn’t meet me in the hallway. I had to drag them out of bed to tell them what had happened. And just like before, nothing. No monster in my bed or on my floor. Just a partially opened closet.

And very annoyed parents.

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It’s been a week, and no further monster encounters. The sounds from my closet seemed to have stopped, too. The doors will still sometimes be open in the morning, but honestly, they might just be bad doors.

I’m not trying to sound too proud, but I think I scared it off with my wailing. Maybe Detective Clops could learn a lesson from ME!

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I heard it last night, rustling in my closet. And just like the nights before, the closet door was partially open. Well, this was the night I decided I was going to get some answers and see this thing for what it was. I grabbed the lamp beside my bed and turned it on, ready to point it into the closet and get a good look at this creep. But before I could, I looked out my bedroom door.

Matthew’s door was wide open. He always slept with it just cracked slightly (he was still afraid of the dark), but tonight it was nearly halfway open. I remembered looking at the closet and back at Matthew’s door. I had this Monster right where I wanted it.

But something seemed wrong.

My eyes still locked on the closet, I got out of bed and entered the hallway. My lamp was plugged into an extension cord, so I was able to bring it out into the hallway to see better. I approached Matthew’s room and shined the light at the ceiling, trying not to shine it right in Matthew’s face. I peered inside. Matthew was still fast asleep.

And next to him, a perfect indent in the sheets of something that was recently lying right beside him.

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I’ve never fought anything before. I’ve seen movies and tv shows where people punch each other, or hit them with swords. But I don’t have a sword. And I know I can punch whatever it is, but I don’t know if that will work. My parents aren’t helping me. Dr. Shwartz is DEFINITELY not helping me. Part of me feels really alone right now.

But there will be time for a pity-party later. Whatever monster is sneaking out of my closet seems interested in Matthew, and we can’t have that. He may be a Butt Muncher, but he’s my Butt Muncher.

But again, I don’t have a sword. I don’t have big muscles to fight. We don’t own weapons. All I have is what Dr. Shwartz calls a stubborn personality.

And a large box of unused fireworks.

As Detective Clops says, The bravest horse is the one who stands up for the smallest pony.

I hope I can be a brave horse.

- Juniper Jenkins, xoxo

Insurance Claim – Supplemental

While damage to 36 Woodwind Blvd was substantial, they remain predominantly cosmetic. Interviews with the family members directed inspections toward a box of fireworks purchased by the household. While Daniel and Monica Jenkins claim the explosives were kept in the garage, initial investigations point towards the ignition point originating from one of the bedrooms on the ground floor.

While this appeared to be a straightforward case of parents failing to adequately secure explosives away from children, the older child was insistent that this was, in fact, a case of self-defense.

In this auditor’s opinion, I have never seen a prouder would-be arsonist.

Whatever efforts that were taken to try and defend themselves (or her brother, as she kept claiming), appeared to work, as further investigation of the room revealed the charred remains of an as-of-yet unidentified animal.

Subsequent investigations of the room revealed a small gap between the baseboard and the floor of the closet, which appeared as if had been pried open from the outside. A nest of unknown origins made of sticks and stuffed animal stuffing lay in the crawlspace below the closet.

I fear I would not be doing my due diligence if I did not also report on a local news story that occurred during this time period. Local tourist destination Donavan’s Reptile Hut had reported a breakout after a series of vivariums and terrariums were not adequately secured during the overnight shift. While the majority of the animals were reclaimed by the organization, there were a number of herpetofauna that remained at large. Amongst the missing animals were four Hawk Salamanders, two Galapagos Tortoises, and one Burmese Python.

The young woman also asked me to include in my “official report” that she was a VERY brave horse.

So there. Now it is official.