[Prompt] Writing Digest: Monster Under the Bed

Originally Published: September 24, 2009



Title: Monster Under The Bed
By, Black-Haired Girl

"When you were little, you could swear there was a monster under your bed--but no one believed you. On the eve of your 30th birthday, you hear noises coming from under your bed once again. The monster is back and has an important message to deliver to you."



+

Sleep has never come easy for me. Ever since I was a little girl I could never fall asleep. There was always something to think about or worry over. What was I going to wear to school tomorrow? Would my teacher tell me to read out loud in class again? What about Richard Paul? He was the cutest boy in the school. Would he finally notice me? What would my report card be this semester? Where are my missing socks? Did Mister Whiskers really run away or was Mom lying to me?

Everything worried me. The distance our planet was from the sun, whether God existed, or did rolliepollie bugs actually hide in your shoe to bite you...

Despite these worrying questions there was always one pressing issue in my childhood.

Was Barry real?

Of course I thought he was but my mother and father were convinced he was a figment of my imagination. It was a great source of frustration. When they would kiss me goodnight I would insist they put their heads under my bed to kiss Barry too. Then would only laugh and say, "darling Barry isn't real. There is no monster under your bed."

Of course the moment they would turn out the light and shut the door I could feel a rough kick to the underside of my mattress, which I knew was a warning for me to quit trying to out him.

There was a monster under my bed. Some nights he was there, and others he was not. Or maybe he was but he was sure quiet about it. Either way, Barry - which I named him for the low baritone grumble he would make on occasion - was real to me.

Real until my 16th birthday, when he stopped existing altogether. On that particular birthday my parents had given me a brand new bed and mattress, an Asian style one that sat on the floor with no space between the floor and frame. Barry had nowhere to live, and so he must have found another place to dwell.

Or so I thought.

The night before my 30th birthday was just like any other. I had gone to work, come home, pet my cat while watching the latest reality TV trash while eating a bowl of the blandest rice mixture I could conjure before lugging myself into the shower and then to bed. I still had trouble sleeping, even now. However my worries were quite different. I had bills to pay, and promotions to seek, and workplace stress that sat atop my head nagging me in and out of my dreams. I was just about to drift into a fitful dream about going to work in my pajamas when something bumped the end of my bed. Assuming it was the cat just leaping onto my feet I merely repositioned, hugged my pillow against my face and sighed.

Another bump jostled my mattress, this one much more forceful than the last.

I pushed myself to a sit and stared dumbly into the darkness at the foot of my bed. There was no cat, and soon I could hear Miss Kitty pawing feebly at my bedroom door. If she was out there, then what was in ... here?

I tugged my legs against my body and stared into the wall of shadow at the foot of my bed. I could see nothing, and just as I began to rationalize that my mind was definitely playing tricks on me I saw something move in the darkness. A darker shadow against the blank black canvas of darkness at the end of my bed. It was small, about the size of a small dog. It shifted to the right, then slowly inched up to the foot of the bed. I grabbed my pillow and heaved it over my head, preparing to beat back the animal that had broken into my room. I was about to strike when an odd, and somewhat familiar sound rose through the quiet.

"Look how big you are now, turtle head."