Aimee's Secret

Aimee’s Secret
By Starath


Aimee couldn’t find her favorite doll.  Gertrude had been missing all day and she was supposed to help Aimee fight the Fluffy Dragons of Doom this afternoon.  The six-year-old had already set up the Enchanted Lego Castle and Manfred, the prince, was awaiting rescue.  So where was Gertrude?  This wasn’t the first time she’d gone missing.  Last time she found the wayward doll under the oven with the G.I. Joe soldiers who’d gone AWOL.

The little girl sat on the floor with a bump and crossed her arms, scowling.  She thought about calling Mommy, but Mommy was always busy and it was best not to bother her.  Rising to her knees she scooted in front of her wooden toy box.  Benji Cactus stared back at her, alongside Mobster Lobster the lobster mobster.  The two of them were soon on the floor as well as half the contents of the toy box.  Aimee huffed and sat back against the bed.

Something burped.

Startled, the girl rocketed backwards and nearly fell into her toy box.  Her small heart hammered in her chest and her eyes widened when a loud shuffling sound came from under the bed.  The bedspread moved.

Something was under her bed.

Grabbing Mobster Lobster for protection, Aimee hugged him tight and almost screamed for Mommy—until the thing under the bed whined and squeaked so pathetically it banished all fear.  Setting the rubber lobster aside, she laid down on her belly and lifted the bedspread.  Small brown eyes in a serpentine head looked back.  Another squeak. It withdrew from the light. Aimee smiled.

“Hello, it’s okay, I won’t hurt you… Won’t you please come out?”

The serpentine head pointed at her, sniffed, sneezed, and whined.

“Are you hungry?” Aimee asked, and after a moment, decided it was. “I know what to get you.  Be right back!”

She came back with a bag of goldfish crackers purloined from the kitchen cupboard.  She checked under the bed to find the creature still there.  

“Food?” she said, shaking the bag. “Do you want food?”

Aimee placed three crackers just out from under the bed and waited.  The creature sniffed so hard the bedspread flapped, took a bite, and gobbled the golden fish.  

“Yay!” she cried quietly, and proceeded to make a trail of crackers away from the bed.

She sat next to the closet.  Eight crunches and a contented squeak later, the creature sat in front of her sniffing the cracker bag.

“A dinosaur!” Aimee breathed in wonder— for that is what it was— and if she’d had the knowledge she’d have called it a plesiosaur. But luckily she knew another name for it. “I have a baby Nessie!”

The baby Nessie craned its long neck and squeaked, nudging her hand, looking expectantly at the package.  She fed it several handfuls until it stopped eating and whined again.

“What? What do you want?”
She noticed its forlorn gaze was locked on the fish tank beside her bed.  Aimee gasped.

“Baby Nessies need water! We need to find you some!”  

The baby dinosaur watched her get up and go to the door. She paused at the threshold and shook a finger. “Don’t you wreck anything. Just stay there.”  She closed the door behind her.

Mrs. Tweedwood typed away at her laptop, trying to complete a report before her next court hearing.  Defending this client was a doozy.  She sighed, grateful her daughter knew how to keep herself occupied.  She adjusted her glasses, rubbing her eyes, and in the moment of silence she could hear the bathtub water running.

Testing the water with her pointer finger, Aimee withdrew it and flicked the droplets away. Wait, did baby Nessies like warm water or cold?  She had no idea.  After a moment of thought she decided warm water was best for a baby anything.  Putting Mr. Squeakers in the water so Nessie would have something to play with she left the bathroom and found a surprise in the hallway.

“Nessie!”

The baby dinosaur had nosed her door open and sat there in the middle of the carpet, happy to have found her.  It squeaked and scooted towards her.

“I told you to stay put!” Aimee scolded, but the baby ignored her and headed straight for the bathroom.  It slid over the tile like a soaped-up duck until it bumped into the bathtub.  Stretching its neck to see over the lip, it whined until Aimee picked it up.

“Oh, alright, but I hate baths you know, this one’s for you.”

Nessie made a sound like “Wheee!” and plopped underwater. Mr. Squeakers rode a tidal wave across the tub and smacked into the wall.  Giggling, Aimee watched it swim around in tight circles and chase the rubber duck back and forth across the water.

“Aren’t you cute? Mom would think so—”

“Aimee?”

“—Uh oh. Mom!” She jumped up and shushed the squeaking baby.  

“Be quiet! Mom can’t find out about you or you’ll get taken away!”

“Mrrr?” Questioned the dinosaur, blinking. Heavy footsteps could be heard coming up the stairs.  Aimee bolted to the door and closed it behind her just as Mrs. Tweedwood appeared at the top.

“Aimee?  What are you doing?” She gazed at her daughter curiously. “Why did I hear the bath water running?”

“Um, well, I was going to have an underwater battle with Mobster Lobster and the evil Seacons, Mom.”

“Weren’t you going to have Gertrude save Manfred like you told me this morning?”

Aimee gave her a blank stare. Then, “Oh! I couldn’t find Gertrude so I wanted to do something else.”

“You lost her again?” Her mother sighed. “Oh honey, I wish you’d keep better track of your toys.”

“It’s not my fault they’re rebellious.”

Behind the door, water splashed. Mrs. Tweedwood’s eyebrows shot into her hair.

“What was that?”

“Er, nothing!  Mobster’s having his pre-battle swim!”

Aimee’s mother gave her the look. “Honey…”

“It’s okay! Really!” She pressed her back to the door.

“Did you bring in another animal?”

“No….”

Mrs. Tweedwood sighed with relief. “Good. We don’t need another waterlogged opossum in the house.”

“…. It was here already.”

“WHAAT?”

Aimee winced. So much for keeping the secret…. “It’s just a baby, mom. I have to take care of it.”

“In the bathtub?”

“Uh huh. It swims.”

“Oh, what is it then? A duck?”

“…No… it’s a dinosaur.”

“Aimee….”

“I’m telling the truth! Honest!”

But of course parents never know when to trust their child is telling the truth, so Mrs. Tweedwood made her daughter open the door. Nessie swam gaily about in the bathtub. It looked up to Mrs. Tweedwood and squeaked. She jumped back with a yelp, her hand pressed to an open mouth.  Aimee wedged herself between the bathtub and her mother.

“Can we keep it?”