A short story I read recently made me think back to my childhood and the monster under my bed. Or perhaps it was in the cupboard, behind the chair, in the shadows of my room. I almost felt the need to check under my bed, right then and there, just to make sure that there is nothing more than a speck of dust, and not some fat nightmare waiting to infect my dreams. Silly, of course, since nothing wider than six inches or so can get under the bed, and only the Slender Man would fit. And perhaps he would be too long, too tall, so that his feet stick out at the end.
A childish thought, perhaps, but one which even adults plague.
Photo Source: Sarah Laval – Creative Commons
The story was very simple: a small child tells its father that sleep is no respite because of the monster and the father, concerned, looks. He sees a small child under the bed who tells him he cannot sleep, because of the monster in the bed.
- Viktoria Michaelis.