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Shalini Agrawal, 07 Apr '14

What's Under Your Bed? I'll tell you what's under mine. Monsters. No, really!

        You see, my bed does have monsters under it. Well, one, if we are to get hung up on technicalities. And no, it’s not a kid’s overactive imagination. It just isn’t like every other kid’s bed. Most kids have smelly socks, CD-players and basketballs under their bed. Not me. Nothing that goes under my bed can ever be retrieved.

        I don’t tell anyone about this. No one would believe me. My brother would tease me. My parents would take me to the therapist. Only I will ever know of the monster beneath my bed.

        You see, the sound that I had heard, apart from my breathing, was that of the monster. It was waiting. Waiting for me to get off my bed, so it could drag me under. Then my parents would think I ran away from home, just like they thought our dog, Buster, ran away from home.

        I cover myself, head to toe with my blanket and tried to go back to sleep. I struggled to ignore the horrifying wheezing that was emanating from under my bed. I am tired. Oh! So tired. Ever since I have been given this room, this bed, I have not been able to sleep. Everything aches. Sometimes, I entertain the thought of being pulled down to hell by the monster, so I won’t be tired anymore.

        I ponder over it for a while. Then I decide. I am going to put my feet down and I am going to wait for the monster.

        I get up, cast aside my blanket, and place my feet on the floor beside the bed. My heart was thumping harder now. Could the monster sense me?

        I waited for five whole seconds; it seemed like an eternity. Just as I had begun to convince myself otherwise, I felt a cold grip on my ankle. I was drowning, in thick liquid. When at last it ended, I opened my eyes. I wasn’t in my room anymore. Everything was Red. Surely, this was hell?

        I heard someone speak, then cackle. I was pushed to the ground.

Lucifer spoke now,

        “You are now free.”

He spoke not to me, but to someone behind me. I turned and I saw. The subject of my nightmares all these years, standing still, behind me. The monster transformed in front of my very eyes, an eleven year old, like me, wearing a smock. How old was he, actually? He faded.

        I knew now that I was doomed. Doomed to go live under some poor kid’s bed until it was my turn to be free. Maybe you will tire out sooner than I did.

Comments · 1

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  • Shalini Agrawal said...

    A short R L Stine-ish horror piece.

    • Posted 5 years ago