Buttons | A Monster Story From Burlington, Vermont

Claire had always thought Vermont was beautiful in the summer. The rolling green hills, the scent of pine needles in the air, and the warmth of the sun against her skin as she drove along the winding roads brought back memories of her childhood. This time, however, the beauty was overshadowed by sadness. Her grandmother had passed away, and now it was up to Claire and her mother to prepare the house for sale.

It was an old Victorian house, perched on a hill just outside of Stowe. Claire had spent many summers there, running through the apple orchards and playing hide-and-seek in the sprawling rooms. But the house felt different now, hollow and heavy with memories. As she walked through the front door, the familiar creak of the floorboards echoed in the empty space, a sound that once felt comforting but now sent a shiver down her spine.

“Mom?” Claire called out, her voice breaking the silence.

“In here, sweetheart,” her mother’s voice floated from the kitchen.

Claire found her mother sorting through a pile of old cookbooks on the table. “I was just about to start on the attic,” her mother said, looking up with tired eyes. “I could use some help, if you’re up for it.”

“Of course,” Claire nodded, trying to muster up some enthusiasm. She followed her mother up the narrow staircase that led to the attic, the smell of dust growing stronger with each step.

The attic was exactly as Claire remembered it—dimly lit, with only a small window to let in the afternoon sun. Cobwebs clung to the rafters, and old furniture was covered in white sheets, giving the room an eerie, ghostly feel. But it was the rows of boxes that caught Claire’s attention, each one labeled in her grandmother’s neat handwriting.

“I haven’t been up here in years,” Claire said as she opened one of the boxes, revealing a collection of antique dolls with cracked porcelain faces.

Her mother was sorting through a stack of old photographs when Claire pulled out a box from the far corner. It was smaller than the others, and the label simply read “Claire’s Stuff.” Curious, she opened it and was immediately greeted by a pair of round, black eyes staring up at her.

It was her old teddy bear, the one she had named Buttons. It had been her favorite toy as a child, a gift from her grandmother on her fifth birthday. She hadn’t seen it in over twenty years, having packed it away when she decided she was too old for stuffed animals.

“Look what I found,” Claire said, holding the bear up to her mother.

Her mother glanced over and smiled wistfully. “I remember that bear. You wouldn’t go anywhere without it.”

Claire smiled back, but something about Buttons felt off. Its once fluffy fur was matted and dull, and its eyes, which had always seemed so warm and friendly, now looked cold and unblinking. She shook off the unease, telling herself it was just her imagination, and placed the bear back in the box.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of packing and sorting, but Claire couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. She kept catching glimpses of Buttons out of the corner of her eye, even though she knew she had put the bear away. It wasn’t until she was lying in bed that night, in the guest room that had once been her mother’s, that she realized she had brought the bear with her. It was sitting on the dresser, facing the bed.

“Did you put that there?” Claire asked her mother when she came to say goodnight.

Her mother frowned. “No, I didn’t touch it. Maybe you brought it up without realizing?”

Claire nodded, but the explanation didn’t sit right with her. She could have sworn she left the bear in the attic.

That night, she dreamt of Buttons. In the dream, the bear was standing at the foot of her bed, watching her with those cold, black eyes. As she tried to move, she found she couldn’t; she was paralyzed, unable to speak or scream. Buttons began to grow, its fur bristling and its eyes turning a deep, blood-red. It grew taller and taller, until it towered over her, its mouth opening to reveal rows of sharp, gleaming teeth.

Claire woke with a start, her heart pounding in her chest. She was drenched in sweat, and the room felt suffocatingly hot. The bear was still on the dresser, exactly where it had been, but now its head was tilted slightly to the side, as if it were watching her.

She told herself it was just a nightmare, just her mind playing tricks on her. But as the days passed, the dreams grew more vivid, more terrifying. Every night, Buttons would appear at the foot of her bed, growing larger and more monstrous. And every morning, Claire would find the bear in a different spot in the room.

When the time came for Claire to return to her condo in Burlington, she was relieved to leave the house behind. But when she opened her suitcase after arriving home, she found Buttons nestled among her clothes. A chill ran down her spine, but she tried to laugh it off. “It’s just a silly bear,” she told herself. “There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

But the feeling of dread only grew. That night, as she lay in her own bed, she could feel the weight of the bear’s gaze on her. The room was silent, but it felt like something was watching her, waiting.

And then it happened.

Claire awoke to the sound of something moving in the darkness. She sat up, her heart racing, and saw a shadow at the foot of her bed. Buttons was there, but it wasn’t the small, stuffed bear she remembered. It had grown, towering over her bed, its fur matted and dark, its eyes glowing red in the darkness. Its mouth opened, revealing rows of jagged teeth, and it let out a low, guttural growl that reverberated through the room.

Claire screamed and scrambled out of bed, knocking over a lamp as she ran for the door. The bear lunged at her, its claws tearing through the air just inches from her back. She slammed the door behind her and ran to the kitchen, grabbing the first weapon she could find—a large kitchen knife.

But when she turned around, the bear was already there, blocking her only escape route. It swiped at her with one massive paw, knocking the knife out of her hand and sending her crashing to the floor. The bear loomed over her, its red eyes glowing with malevolent glee as it prepared to strike.

In a last, desperate act, Claire grabbed a nearby candle and threw it at the bear. The flame caught the bear’s fur, and within seconds, the room was filled with the smell of burning fabric and the bear’s enraged roars. The fire spread quickly, engulfing the monster in flames. It thrashed and writhed, trying to extinguish the fire, but the flames only grew higher, consuming the bear entirely.

Claire stumbled to her feet and ran out of the apartment, choking on the smoke that filled the air. She made it outside just as the fire department arrived, watching in horror as flames devoured her home.

Hours later, after the fire was finally under control, Claire stood in the street, wrapped in a blanket, staring at the smoldering ruins of her condo. Her phone buzzed in her pocket, and she pulled it out with trembling hands.

“Mom?” Her voice cracked as she spoke. “I need to stay with you for a little while … please.”