Short Stories

Monsters Under The Bed

As a kid, I'd always get told about the monsters under the bed. It'd be the same story, the same old folk's tale, the same plot, explained and told in the same boring way. Always the same story that adults made up to scare their kids to sleep.

When I was a small child, I believed these stupid stories. I really thought there was some sort of horrific monster hiding out under my bed. Well, this stopped as I got older. With each passing year, I believed less and less about the monsters, just as I grew out of bed bugs, and the ToothFairy, and even Santa.

Now I'm 17, and I don't believe in any of these tales. I don't even understand how I was so scared of it in the first place. I mean, monsters? Seriously? They only exist in the movies, or in television shows. I guess, what I'm trying to say, is that I'm over it.

My life is pretty normal, well, as normal as it can be. Mondays through to Fridays, I go to class, go home, complete my homework, go to work, come home, eat, then sleep. Saturdays and Sundays, however, vary. I may go out to a party, or hang out with friends, or stay at home - it isn't planned. The only fixed point on the weekends, are Sunday meals with my family. On these two days, my sleeping regime is a little messed up. I could be going to sleep at 11pm, or 5am, and waking up at 8am or 11am - there's no telling.

Time passed and everything was as it should be. Nothing had changed, and everything was normal... or so it seemed. It was a Saturday night, and I just got home from a party. As I was designated driver for the night, I was still fully sober. It had already gotten pretty late, as I had to drop a couple of my friends home, before I, myself, could return home.

Upon stepping into my house, I could sense an eerie aura floating around me. At this point, I couldn't really care less, so I waved it off. It was already the early hours of Sunday morning, and I was exhausted; drunk teenagers are a pain to deal with. I kicked off my shoes and took my jacket off, throwing it over the bannister. Walking into the kitchen, I grabbed myself a glass of tap water and headed up the stairs to bed.

As I tried to silently walk up the stairs, all I could hear was noise. Each step creaked in pain, each groan coming from the floorboards different from the last. I breathe out a sigh of relief as I reach the top of the stairs. The floorboards seemed to have calmed down during the journey between the top of the stairs and my bed. I placed the glass of water down gently on my bedside table, and climbed into bed, after changing into some comfier clothes.

I lay awake for what seemed like hours, but in reality was only a couple of minutes, before I decided that I needed to go to the bathroom. I swivelled my legs out of bed, placing the tips of my toes steadily on the carpeted floor, being wary of the loose floorboards. Once I was sure where I was standing would be silent, I lowered the rest of my feet, until I was standing flat-footed on my floor.

I was about to stand when I felt a presence by my feet. I stopped. Then shook my head. I must've been going crazy, there were a lot of drugs, and smoking at the party, I probably inhaled too much shit and it got to my head. I disregarded my thoughts and stood up. No more than a few seconds had passed before I was lying on the floor.

A pair of hands had grabbed both my ankles with firm grips. I felt it. The strong grasp around the bare skin of my ankles. It terrified me, and at that moment, I realised, that the stories were true. To say I was scared was an understatement, but by the time I had processed the fact that I was on the floor, the hands had disappeared. I looked at the clock to check the time, only to watch it flicker to read 3:01am.

I stood up uneasily and went to the bathroom. I didn't know what was going on, but I hoped that if I went to sleep, everything would be normal in the morning. I finished up and stood in front of the mirror, washing my hands. Looking up into the reflection, I saw a silhouette a couple of metres behind me.

I hoped that by pretending I didn't see it, it would leave me alone. I had no such luck, as it advanced closer to me, slowly, each step echoing through the floor. I turned around to see its long face tilting as if questioning my motives - my motives? I should be questioning its motives.

In place of its eyes were dark hollow holes, nothing within the space. Its mouth, a widely stretched grin, adding so much fear into my body. By this point, I was trembling, my legs turning to jelly with each of the character's movements. Its bald head shining due to the beams coming through the bathroom window from the rising sun's light.

Fear. The emotion caused by the threat of danger, pain, or harm. An unpleasant emotion. One that no one particularly wants to feel, but everyone encounters, anyway. The emotion that I was now facing head first. Don't expect a fear-free life, because it's not going to happen. This is one of those times where it is unavoidable.

I stared at what would have been its eyes, waiting for its next move. My heart rate had already increased and was rapidly beating in my chest, while I watched for any sign of movement. It hesitated, then brought a long, lanky arm up towards my chest, then its arm outstretched until it was right in front of my face. Terrified, I froze, making no attempt to move out of the way.

It seemed to hesitate for a moment, as if asking for permission, but knowing the answer would be negative, it continued anyway. The long wiry fingers attached to its hand were placed softly against my right cheek, confusion overtaking some of the fear. The touch felt familiar, and not in a good way.

I realised that the hand upon my cheek was the same hand that was wrapped tightly around my ankle only minutes ago. At this point, I was ready to run. Ready to escape the fear that was coursing through my body, causing me to freeze in place, and shake uncontrollably.

But I couldn't. It was as if an unnatural force was stopping me from budging. No matter how hard I tried to move, I was stuck. Stuck in front of this monster, and unable to escape.

"Listen..." It whispered, trailing off. I paused, looked into the bottomless pits that are its eyes, and listened contently. I don't know why I listened to it, or done what it said, but I did. And I heard something which I definitely did NOT want to hear.

What felt like a jolt of electricity was sent through my cheek, and surged through my body, and something changed.

I could see things I never imagined of seeing, hear voices I didn't believe existed, smell scents I'd never want to smell, and feel forces I didn't know were there.

What had happened? Even I didn't know that, but whatever it was, it wasn't right. What shocked me most, wasn't all these new things, it was the fact that it disappeared.

I no longer saw its tall, lanky body, or feel its eyeless eyes boring holes into my flesh. All that remained of it, was its lingering voice, and the icy temperature it left where its hand once was.

"I have helped you," It whispered into my right ear, "I will always be with you." It finished. A shiver ran down my spine at the thought of it always lurking wherever I go.

It followed through with its words as if they were a promise. The new-found presence never leaving, following me, always behind my right shoulder.

It wasn't only the fact that it was lurking, that struck fear into me, but the continuous beings I would see, and the scent of death that trailed each of the inhumane beings. Was this really what it meant?

It's not as if they are real, but more... Ghosts. I'd be avoiding them, and yet, I'd watch other people walk straight through them, unable to see the horrors that I see.

I soon came to the conclusion that I could indeed see ghosts, but that didn't help me come to accept that. It was only after approximately two and a half years later, than I came to accept, and appreciate the voice on my shoulder.

Over time, it was like a companion, more than a lurking voice. As if it were a lone puppy, following with its tiny paws padding along the cold, bumpy concrete of the streets. And soon enough, I also got used to the 6th sense I now had; in fact, it's kind of interesting - learning about them, I mean. And that's what I did.

I spent the rest of my life doing many things: I spent my days normally, as a normal person would, but I also researched and wrote about this 6th sense. I made journals, and articles about what I encountered. And even though they didnt become too popular as the truth, they became great stories- especially for older teens, and younger adults. And that's how it went for the years going forth... And I was happy.