Short Stories :P

{27} Monster Under My Bed | Oct 6, 2022

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I've heard stories. Stories of there being a monster under kid's beds. Children would cry to their parents, fear rushing through them at the thought of a scary creature living under their bed; but I never felt that way about my monster.

You see, my monster wasn't actually a monster; he was more of a voice... a ball of darkness. All you could make of him was these big, bright, yellow eyes that shone through the fog of black that he is.

Any other kid would be terrified to be in my shoes. I mean, who would want to live with a monster under their bed? But my monster, he-- he's not like how everyone describes them to be. He doesn't try and scare me, or haunt me; he's just simply there.

He's not a nightmare, nor is he a curse; he's just the darkness that people forget about when they find the light. And he's so much more than a monster under my bed; he's my best friend.

"Hey," I would say every night as my head hits my grey pillow, my short brown hair pooling around my face. "Hi Kiara," He would say back, his voice wispy and low. "How was your day?" He would then ask, and I would tell him all about my life, all the good and the bad; and he would listen without a comment.

He's been there through the joy. He's been there through the pain. He's been there through everything; not necessarily with me when all of the shit happened, but there for me when I needed someone to talk to; someone to listen.

"I hate this world." I have said multiple times, using all of my strength to hold back tears. "It's okay. Life gets tough sometimes; but you'll get through it, I know you will." I would feel the drops of tears trickle down my face, the soft voice of him singing a lullaby heard as I slowly drifted into a peaceful slumber.

He's not just a ball of darkness. He's not just a fog of black with bright, yellow eyes. He's not just a monster under my bed that I should fear. He is the one who listens to me when everyone else thinks my words are pathetic. He is the one who sees reason to my cries of help. He is the reason I am alive.

And as I grew older, his pieces slowly faded away; his big, bright, yellow eyes got smaller; and his comforting, wispy voice got quieter. One day, the night before I turned eighteen, he was just a tiny fluff of darkness; his eyes were the size of ants; and his voice, his oh so wispy voice, was quieter then a summer breeze.

"I guess this is goodbye." I remember him saying as unwanted tears rolled down my face. "I guess so." I then croaked out, trying to silent my sobs. "It's okay. It'll all be okay." And as I fell asleep with him under my bed one last time, I felt years of safety and comfort slip away, along with him, who faded into nothing.

As I woke up that morning, welcomed with silence, I finally believed that I was free. Not from the monster under my bed, no, but from the scared little girl who was too afraid to branch out and talk to other people; the scared little girl that refused to face her father one last time before he left.

I woke up that morning a new person. So, if anyone asks me: are you scared of the monster under your bed? I will answer in confidence. No, I'm not; because he is not just a monster under my bed. He is who freed me from scared little Kiara. He is the reason I am who I am today. He is not just a monster under my bed; he is my saviour.

652 words

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I used to be afraid of the dark, and this so-called 'monster under my bed'. But over time, I learnt to be at peace with the shadows, and then realising that this 'monster' isn't really that bad after all.