my stomach twists. the night is dark, so dark. my parent's room is just down the hall, yet it seems miles away. and i doesn't dare to leave the bed- the monster might get me.

i can't pinpoint exactly where the noises are coming from, they're too chaotic, too overwhelming. but my guess is that the monster is under my bed. right where it can get to me.

a roar, and the frame of my bed rattles, nearly tossing me off. i grip the sheets until my hands turn white. i look from side to side, watching the wall, my eyes tracing the floor.

all of my stuffed animals are on my bookshelf, they can't protect me from there. all i can do is wait and hope that the scary noises will go away, that the monster won't kill me.

i want to have tomorrow.

minutes tick by, the red of my clock burning into my eyes.

the sounds go quiet.

legs trembling, i crawl out of bed. the silence, it hangs like a heavy fog. i stand by my bed, not moving.

the tension inside of me snaps, and i get down and look under my bed. there's nothing there, only a gap that shows the bottom of my bookshelf on the other side.

peace fills me. things will be okay.

and then there's one last sound.

the creak of the closet door opening.

Challenge

There's a monster under the bed!

Write a horror story from the perspective of a child who believes there may be a monster lurking under their bed or in their closet.

LLFLORESwrites in Horror & Thriller

35 reads

WIRES

“I saw Wires again..?” Isaac murmured, mostly to himself.

“...What did you just say to me..?” replied his father, still drunk from the previous evening.

Isaac focused on his hands clasped tightly in his lap, knowing better than to look up as he tearfully whispered, “He was tasting again.. it hurts.”

“You listen to me now, boy. You hear? There IS no “Wires”. The only thing in that damned closet is your momma’s dress and I’ll burn the damned thing if you don’t stop your lies! Now, quit your crying and go comb your hair. It’s sticking up.”

“But there is! Wires is in there, I promise! He comes out to taste!”

“Shut up now, boy! I don’t want to hear it! You do as your daddy says and go comb down your damned hair!”

“... But it hurts.. my head..” Isaac cried.

Isaac’s father had reached his limit with these lies. He propelled himself across the expanse of the small kitchen table, one hand on each side of Isaac’s little head, “BOY! I’LL GIVE YOUR HEAD A REASON TO HURT! YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT PAIN IS, JUST YOU-” and stopped as goosebumps traveled up his arms and neck. He swallowed hard. The back of Isaac’s head, beneath the point at which his hair was disturbed, was warm and it.. it was wet. “What the…?” his father began to question as he pulled his hands swiftly away from Isaac. His right hand was glistening and he vaguely noticed a familiar smell. He stood up and slowly walked behind Isaac. What he saw had an entirely sobering effect and he was horrified. There was an injury to the back left side of his son’s head. The hair had been removed and where there should have been skin, there was an area of exposed skull. It was the edge of the wound that brought the vomit to his mouth.. It looked like someone had taken a large pencil eraser and had effectively erased away a section of Isaac’s scalp, leaving a wide hole with a red, raw edge. No.. No, it was something else.. It looked more like when a predator with a rough tongue just licks and licks its lifeless prey, clear down to the bone. His father went pale as he recalled what Isaac had said just moments earlier; “He was tasting again..” He walked shakily to his son’s room. The nightlight was still on and from inside the closet, he heard the distinct sound of wire hangers scraping along the bar as the door softly closed.

“Daddy..?” came Isaac’s tiny voice from the hall behind him. “Did he taste you, too?”