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Under the Bed

There’s no such thing as monsters.

By Jennifer Sara WidelitzPublished 3 years ago 10 min read
11
Gorodenkoff/Shutterstock.com

“M-m-mom?”

The little girl spoke gently, still spooked from the loud crash that awoke her as she sat upright in bed, clutching her floral pink comforter tightly between white knuckles.

All was silent for a few moments before more noise ensued, a few screams were almost drowned out by the crashing that struck in time with her racing heart. Any sleepiness lingering in her veins was flushed away by sheer panic. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t find her courage in the inky dark corners of her room.

She waited a few moments longer, the sound had evaporated from the midnight air like dewdrops in sunlight. Her heartbeat thundered in the silence, and for a moment, she doubted if there had been any sound at all. The girl found the nerve to call out again.

“M-mom?” She spoke softly, as though testing her voice.

Silence.

“Mom?” She uttered a little louder.

Still no answer.

At that instant, bubbles of laughter floated up the stair to her room.

Laughter! That was surely a good sign!

Though still scared and confused, she felt a slight easiness wash over her nerves in a gentle wave and called out a final time for her mother with the full strength of her young lungs.

There was a beat of stillness before she heard footsteps pounding up the stair and across the wooden floorboards of the hallway. Her heart hammered harder with each thud as she began to wonder if she had made a mistake. Surely, her mother—or father—would have yelled to ask if she was okay. Surely, they would have called up to her for some assurance… For all she knew, she gave away her location to a masked murderer.

Before she could doubt her actions further, the door to her bedroom swung forcefully open to reveal a large misshapen form silhouetted by the glaring hallway light.

Were those eyes glowing in the pitch-black shadow?

Just as she was about to scream, the figure thrusted out its arm and flicked on the lights to unveil her mother standing in the doorway, panting.

“Are you okay, honey? Are you hurt?” her mother asked frantically, eyebrows furrowed in alarm.

Relief flooded through the little girl, and she relaxed into her bead, releasing the death grip on her comforter. Still chocked up, she nodded in response.

“Then what are you doing up this late? It’s well past your bedtime,” her mother asked, eyebrows furrowing again, this time in confusion.

“I-I heard a lot of loud noises and got really scared,” she admitted sheepishly, ashamed that she had worried about nothing.

“Oh, sweetheart…” The girl’s mother rushed over to the bed where she sat down and hugged her child, smoothing her hair comfortingly and placing some slobbery kisses on her forehead.

“Your father and I got really hungry and went downstairs to the kitchen. I’m sorry we woke you.”

“But what about the screaming?”

“Screaming?” She asked mystified before the realization of tonight’s events struck her. “Oh, um… we were playing a game. You know how sometimes you get riled up and yell happy screams when playing hide-and-seek? Well, we were playing a game and got a little excited.”

“You and dad were playing hide-and-seek in the kitchen this late?”

“Yes, princess.”

The girl pulled away from her mother’s embrace, confused as she had never seen her parents play hide-and-seek before—especially at night—when she noticed that her mother didn’t look like her normal tidy self. Her mother’s hair was sticking in ten different directions, and her clothes hung awkwardly on her body, askew and torn in several areas, primarily along the back and sleeves of her shirt. The girl took notice of the bright red smears around her mouth and food stuck in her teeth.

Forgetting all the questions she had just moments ago, the girl asked about her mother’s unusual appearance. After all, her mother was the prim and proper one in the house—never a hair or a pearl out of place.

“Well, the game must have made my clothes slightly disheveled,” she used what remained of her shirt sleeve to wipe her mouth before she finished speaking, “and it looks like it’s just lipstick and pizza sauce.”

Her mother avoided making eye contact, patting her hair down and itching at the bandage around her forearm from where the wild dog bit her at the park a couple days ago. She seemed nervous at the questioning.

Pizza? We didn’t have that for dinner. I didn’t even know we had any in the house.” The girl’s stomach growled at this news—she would have much rather sunken her teeth into a cheesy, mouthwatering slice of heaven instead of the bland broccoli and meatloaf leftovers.

“Um, we don’t. Like I said, your father and I were very hungry and we decided to order an extra large pizza to satisfy our appetite.” As though a new idea struck, her mother quickly added, “and we played the game while we waited for the pizza to be delivered. Now that you’re all caught up, lets get you back to sleep.”

As her mother tucked her into bed, the girl wondered why her father didn’t come up, too, to see if she was okay. Even though she called for her mother, they always checked on her together.

“Where’s daddy?”

“Uh… I was going to tell you tomorrow… but your father had to go to the airport for a last-minute work trip.” Her mother seemed to search for the right words. Seeing the girl’s expression, she added swiftly, “I’m afraid he will be gone for a while. He wanted to say goodbye but didn’t want to wake you.”

The girl’s head was spinning so fast, none of this made any sense.

“But—” she began and was quickly interrupted.

“I think that’s enough for tonight. I’m sorry we startled you, but I think it’s time you went back to sleep.”

She knew that look her mother gave her. It meant questioning was over and it was time to go to sleep and do as she was told, even if all she wanted to ask was why the doorbell didn’t ring and why she never heard the door open or close—it always shook the walls when it slammed shut. It was a small house and the walls were thinner than rice paper, she would have definitely heard. She heard screaming and objects breaking, but the girl never heard the distinct sound of a door or doorbell. She supposed any lingering questions would just have to wait until morning, if it even still mattered to her then.

“Mommy, before you go, would you mind checking for monsters?”

“Of course, princess.”

Her mother checked out the window to make sure the pear tree, now barren and lifeless in the winter frost, bore branches instead of spindly hands—a common misconception, the girl justified, especially with the backdrop of a full moon.

Her mother gazed out the window a little longer than necessary, smiling at the moon’s full-bodied presence. Did her teeth look whiter in the moonlight? The girl pondered. Longer and sharper, too?

A toothy grin still plastered on her face, her mother turned toward the girl and confirmed, “No monsters outside.”

As her mother walked inside the closet, the girl reasoned that she was just tired and that her mind was beginning to play tricks on her.

The girl began to worry as her mother lingered in its dark depths. Her heartbeat quickened as she watched her mother emerge from the shadows. It was her mother, but it also wasn’t—her appearance had changed slightly. Her mother’s usual soft jade eyes emanated a piercing green glow, topped no longer by carefully groomed brows but by bushy caterpillars, and her hair was somehow noticeably thicker. She appeared to lean forward slightly, her perfect posture changing to a stand that made her look like she was about to tiptoe.

“All clear,” her mother growled in a low, husky voice, a wide grin slowly spreading across her face. The smile verified that the girl had not imagined the pointy fangs.

As her mother approached the bed, the girl gulped, feeling her throat constricting. She was certain her pounding heart was audible as her mother crouched to check under the bed.

The girl dared not move. She was once again immobilized by fear, terrified of what was happening. Was she seeing things clearly? Was it because she was tired, or was she simply losing her mind? There must be an explanation, she thought.

Seconds turned into minutes as she waited for her mother to resurface.

What’s happening? Where is she? Did something get her? The girl wondered, too scared to peer over the edge of her sheets. The thoughts were dizzying, running circles in her mind in an endless loop.

She focused on the drawings taped to her door. The girl always drew her favorite memories that she had with her family, the most recent being a day skating at the frozen pond at her grandmother’s house. Her parents taught her how to skate that day, holding her hands and they glided across the ice in unison. She was a natural, they said. What an amazing day! She loved her parents dearly and they loved her more than anything in the world. There is no way my mother would hurt me, the thought calmed the girl enough to bestow a sliver of bravery.

“M-mommy?” She whispered, still unable to command her body to move.

A minute of silence passed, and then she tried again.

“Mom?”

As the word escaped her lips, her mother snapped up.

But it was no longer her mother.

Standing on its haunches before the girl was a massive creature covered in matted hair with a furry hunchback protruding from the ripped back of her mother’s shirt, sleeves in tatters. Claws extended from beefy paws and there was a massive snout where a delicate nose used to sit, now inches from the girl’s face. The monster coughed and hacked, dislodging a chunk of pizza that landed in the girl’s lap. A second glance at the lump revealed it wasn’t pizza. It was a chunk of hair still attached to bloody flesh—the same blond hair as her father’s. Waves of hot breath engulfed the girl, and she felt warm tears trickle down her cheeks, silently plopping onto the bed beneath her.

The girl was petrified, frozen solid by pure terror—she could have been mistaken for one of the life-like ice sculptures at the county’s winter festival. Staring into those glowing eyes, she was as vulnerable as a deer gawking at headlights.

“All clear. No monster, no boogie-man… no big bad wolf,” the creature chuckled, displaying white fangs dripping with drool that looked just as sharp as the claws.

The monster walked to the door, tail peeking out from beneath her mother’s blue skirt, swinging back and forth with every step like a pendulum. Ducking under the doorframe, the creature exited the room and turned back around to grab the door, claws scratching the white paint. With a talon, the creature flicked off the light, leaving only the soft glow of the full moon to illuminate the darkness.

“Goodnight. Don’t let the bed bugs… bite.” The beast howled with laughter and closed the door.

The sound of the lock clicking shut snapped the girl from her trance.

She screamed.

Short Story
11

About the Creator

Jennifer Sara Widelitz

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