There’s a monster under my bed.
I hear him every time I close my eyes.
I feel him staring at me.
He’s waiting - staring right through the mattress.
Pulling my sheets up a little closer, I try to hide.
If I just hide under the sheets, he won’t be able to touch me. Right? Right?
It doesn’t work. He’s waiting for me to close my eyes again.
Tiny black claws are scratching the hardwood floor.
I lift a corner of the sheet. There’s a shadow spilling out from underneath the bedframe. A spindly hand is slithering out.
Sheets are back over my head. He can’t touch me while my face is covered.
This can’t be real. He’s supposed to be dead.
I feel his eyes again.
He sees me.
He’s laughing now. I hear his raspy wheezing mocking my attempts to hide.
He sees me. He sees me. I know he can!
I lift the other sheet corner. Maybe if I dash for the light? I can barely make out the tiny light switch in the dark, but I know it’s there.
One hand is out. The air is still cold. How did it get so cold? It’s summertime for Chrissakes.
He’s laughing again and choking on something wet.
Fuck it. I need the light.
Feet are off the bed. Just a few steps to the light and I’ll be safe.
I feel a tiny hand grab at my bare heel.
Fuck this! I’m practically flying now.
My fingers grab the light switch. There’s a little buzz from the ceiling and the light flickers on.
I see him underneath the bed. That blood-soaked bed.
It’s messier than I thought.
He’s staring at me.
Dammit! He sees me.
His eyes are completely black. He refuses to blink. Why won’t he blink?
The knife is still in his throat, where I left it earlier. His eyes should be closed though.
The light is flickering. He’s moving.
The room is growing dark. The ceiling is buzzing again. The light is fading.
He wants to get even.
The light is buzzing. Flickering.
There’s a body under my bed.