Mr. Benzedrine, Please Let Me Sleep

This was inspired by Fall Out Boy’s 20 Dollar Nosebleed

This was written for a storybook project in Communication Arts II (2010-2011)

This was finished by February 17, 2011

©Camcas Cervantes


Mom forgot to leave a crack in the door. Either that or she accidentally switched-off the hall light. This was my improvised nightlight. Yes, I’m afraid of the dark. I have my reasons.

He’s back..

I made a bet with him; I told him that I wouldn’t need him to be my nightlight this week. Unfortunately, I lost.

The underside of my bed started to give off a faint, blue glow. A hand slowly slid itself out from underneath, then another hand, and so on until a head finally appeared. The glow followed him as he pulled himself out.

“I see I’ve won again,” Mr. Benzedrine said, a triumphant smirk plastered on his face.

I have to admit, he looked good when he smirked. No… he was naturally good looking. When I first met him, we were both eight years old. He woke me up in the middle of the night, holding a bunch of freshly picked flowers which looked similar to Baby’s Breath.

“Good evening, my lady,” he said as he gave them to me, but as soon as I touched the flowers, they vanished in a milky stream of smoke, hovering towards my window.

“Call me Mr. Benzedrine,”

He opened the window and led me outside into our garden.

I knew that our garden was big, but I had never really ventured further than the blueberry bushes that set a borderline from the murky wood which lay further on.

Grabbing my hand, Mr. Benzedrine led me deeper into the garden, past the bushes. We stopped under an old Willow tree. Moonlight seeped through its branches with the stars scattered all over the dark legroom of the sky.

He paced forward, turned to me, and bowed.

Would you dance with me, Emma?”

We went back to my room. He made me promise not to ever go back to the old Willow tree. Why? He would not tell me. Not even now.

He looked more like nineteen now, though I was only twelve.

He loved to make bets with me, because he’d always win, except for one      incident which we’d both prefer to keep to ourselves.

I was pretty sure I’d win this time…

“Yes, yes. You’ve won. Now what exactly do you propose you’ve won?” I teased.

“I don’t suppose I could finally take you back to the old Willow tree?” he smiled, gazing out the window.

I was surprised. It was as if I had won the bet, not him. I missed this old Willow tree, having kept my promise for four years.

I couldn’t be more mistaken.

Venturing again through the garden, we spotted the old Willow tree. Something cold trickled down my spine. There was something wrong.

I started to move closer, but he pulled me back.

“Shush,” he whispered.

And then I saw them. Faces were embossed all over the Willow tree’s   decaying trunk. They were moving, silently wailing as hands greedily tried to grab at me. I tried to turn away, hoping to get back to the borderline of bushes, but Mr. Benzedrine held my arm firmly.

Suddenly, the ground shook.


The tree split in two, parting left from right. The faces and hands slowly turned and disappeared.

The soil sank into a deep pit right in front of the tree. The tree started to shake. Its branches bent over, slithering into the hole, intertwining in such a way to form a ladder.

“You must go back into the hole now,” he said.

“Go BACK into the hole? I never came from that hole!” I screamed in protest, snatching my arm from his grasp.

I started to run straight, deeper into the dark. Minutes passed, and I still didn’t know where I was going.

I could finally make out the blueberry bushes at the far end of the woods. I began to run faster. I would have gotten past the bushes if I was only aware a certain tree root. I stumbled.

No later than a few seconds, I found myself right in front of the old Willow tree, where Mr. Benzedrine was expectantly looking at my direction. I got up and ran again. And again. And again. I still ended up in front of the old Willow tree.

He started to step closer now. He grabbed me before I could run away for the nth time.

“I’m sorry,” he chuckled as he brought my feet up and carried me.

I finally felt the hot tears race down my cheeks as he strode towards the tree, with me in his arms.

Remember the wailing faces from the tree? I could hear them now. The moans were coming from the pit.

The next thing I knew, I was falling. Mr. Benzedrine dropped me into the hole. Instinctively, I grabbed the ready serpentine ladder. The ladder lowered itself deeper into the pit, with the moans growing louder. Trying to climb was futile. The hole started to close.

“MR. BENZEDRINE!” I screamed.

He just stared intently with a smirk plastered on his face, making sure I was still in the pit when the hole completely shut.

Mom forgot to leave a crack in the door. Either that or she accidentally switched-off the hall light. This was my improvised nightlight. Yes, I’m afraid of the dark. I have my reasons.

Mr. Benzedrine, please let me sleep.


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