The Secret Life of Inanimate Objects

Chapter One

~TWELVE YEARS AGO~

I am angry.

It is a feeling I know well.

I have been angry at Tina from next door before. Once, she broke my Barbie. It was an accident. But that didn't change the fact that Susie had become an ugly doll with no hair.

I have been angry at my kindergarten teacher, Miss Gladys, before. She had promised that we would play a game of dodgeball, but changed her mind at the last minute.

But now, I am angry at my parents.

They are horrible people. They are the Boogeyman's cousins, I bet.

I am five, and that's big! So why can't I watch I Know What You Did Last Summer? All of my friends are watching it right now, while I am sent to my room like a baby.

Stupid Mommy. Stupid Daddy. I hate them. I will always step on cracks and lines so that their backs and spines break. I hope it is true.

Daddy even locked me in so I don't sneak out, like he says. He says I've been naughty the entire day. I have only been angry. Daddy is just horribly mean.

The rain has stopped outside. I wish it would continue. This is when the raindrop fairies come out. Mommy told me about them. They dance in the rain and leave sparkles everywhere.

I like leaving the curtains drawn. I still find this funny. Mommy says that we draw curtains; not close them. I imagine sketching our purple velvety curtains with my HB pencils. Such a stupid thing to say, isn't it?

But I love the darkness. I love how everything looks different. Like, I can pretend that my closet is something else - like Rapunzel's tower! Or that the scarves I keep over the chair in front of my dressing table are really dangerous snakes!

My friend Harriet is afraid of the dark. She has a night light and drinks hot chocolate every night before bed. My best friend Marco and I tease her about it all the time. Marco is more like me - not scared of anything. That's why we're BEST friends.

I don't feel sleepy at all. I can even hear the rumble of the TV downstairs. Mommy and Daddy are still watching the horror.

I think I need to pee now. But the door is locked. And they are downstairs. How will they hear me?

I let out a deep breath and close my eyes. Maybe I can hold it. I've done it before.

I curl up into a ball in my bed. I love this bed. It's much, much bigger than me. It is called a queen bed. I feel like a queen every time I sleep.

I think I'll dream about that. Kings and queens and princes and princesses and horribly ugly frogs that want to be kissed...

My bed moves. Just a little bit. A little bit to my right.

I burrow deeper into my blankets. Imagine if there is a pea under my mattress and that's why I can't sleep?

It moves again. No, it shakes. Is it an earthquake?

I sit up. Nothing.

And then... something.

My mattress folds over, from the foot of the bed, rolling over looking like a fat sausage.

I let out a scream and move upwards, onto the pillows. It stops, and springs back to the way it was. Back to a flat mattress.

I blink. I'm dreaming. This is a dream.

But my heart is pounding and sweat is starting to go down my face.

I count to three like everyone does. On the count of three, I will go back to sleep.

One. 

Two. 

Three.

The mattress becomes like quicksand. I start to sink deeper and deeper, but the bed can't be this deep, can it?

And then the sheets wrap themselves around me, like around a mummy, and now I want MY mummy but I can't scream, I am choking I need to breathe!

And then the sheets let go and the bed springs back up to normal.

I leap off my bed and onto the carpet and I taste something salty coming down my cheeks. I know it's tears. I don't cry. I never cry. I'm brave. I'm braver than all the boys in my class!

I stand against my closet door, opposite my bed. I watch my bed for a little while.

And then it moves.

Coming for me.

Slowly.

I run for the door and bang and scream as loud as I can. PLEASE! They MUST hear me!

The TV goes off. And then footsteps up the stairs.

My bed... It is still moving. Like a turtle. Coming for me.

I hear Daddy's voice and then the door opens. I rush out into his arms. Crying. Like a baby.

He is asking if I need to go to the toilet.

I tell him about the bed and what it did and I know I sound stupid and like a baby but it's TRUE and he has to believe me.

But I can tell that he doesn't. He says it was a nightmare.

The bed is back to where it always is, even.

But I know. I know that I was awake.

And I know why I don't need the toilet anymore.

I have wet my pants.