The Thing Under The Bed

 

NOTE: This was originally written for my Creative Writing class. However since I loved it and I got ones of the highest grades, I decided to put it up there. The theme was actually fairy tales, but me being a Stephen King fan it obviously turned into a mad fairy tale gone wrong. I used one of the most cliché horror themes ever but hey, it worked. As a side note I want to say that my teacher's comment on this story was "Scary!". Scary indeed.

 

The Thing Under The Bed

 

by Shadow Arashi

 

 

Little Damian, a lively but obedient boy, was jumping up and down in joy. His parents had finally decided that he was big enough to have a room of his own, as long as he slept without his night-light. He played in his room the whole afternoon and when night time came he went to sleep and turned off his bedside lamp as he had promised he would. After all a big boy like him had no need for night-lights.

 

The night was calm and tranquil, not a sound could be heard.

 

Scratch.

 

The little boy woke up suddenly and sat up in his bed, eyes wide open. Then he heard it again. It was slight scratching sound, the kind of noise the claws of the neighbor's cat would make on a wooden surface. It seemed to be coming from under the bed. Damian tensed and almost dived under his blanket before he remembered that he was a big boy now. Didn't his parents always say that there were no monsters under the bed? That it was just a childish fear? Damian repeated those words over and over in his head as he crawled out of his bed and carefully glanced under the wooden frame.

 

There was nothing. The boy crawled back into bed and tried to go back to sleep, slightly worried. He was no more disturbed for the rest of the night.

 

The next day Damian had forgotten all about it and nothing happened to remind him of his night fright. However the following night he was once again awaken by the sensation of a slimy, cold thing touching his arm. Damian quickly turned on the light and looked at his arm, then glanced across the room. There was nothing. Scared, little Damian buried himself under his blanket and this time, left the bedside lamp on.

 

The following morning his parents went to wake up their little boy only to see that the bedside lamp was turned on. They asked him why he left it on and he told them the truth. He was then promptly scolded by his father for his childish attitude. Damian felt ashamed and promised himself not to get scared of the dark again. He spent the day with his mother and when it was time for him to go to sleep he turned off his bedside lamp with apprehension, but was determined not to disappoint his parents.

 

He had almost forgotten his fear by the time he fell asleep.

 

Scratch.

 

Damian couldn't muffle his yelp this time and gripped his blanket tightly, heart beating too fast. They were here. He groped for his bedside lamp and turned it on, breathless with fear. Suddenly he understood. They had just been waiting for him to turn off the light again before they strike. They had merely been getting a little more daring each time, he was sure of it now. The light weakened them and made them hide in the shadows, but they would be strong enough again as soon as it was turned off… and then… they would eat him up!

 

The boy blinked and whimpered as a claw-like shadow slithered on the floor. He jumped out of his bed and ran toward the door before it was too late. He ran to his parents' bedroom and woke them up. Surely they would believe him and protect him now.

 

Yet Damian's parents did not believe him this time either when he told them of the danger lurking under the bed and he was sent back to his room. Damian protested but his parents would hear nothing and took away his bedside lamp, even his night-light. The little boy found himself alone in his room again, alone with the evil Things under the bed.

 

Damian was now really scared as he glanced fearfully around him, knowing he had nothing to protect himself against the Things. He could almost see the Things move in the shadows under the bed and he rushed out of the room again, no longer caring if he was to be punished. He was ready to cry when he remembered the red flashlight that his parents kept in ones of the top drawers in the kitchen. He fumbled with the switch as soon as he found it until he had it switched on.

 

Then he crept back to his room, still shaking like a leaf, and his heart pounding. Taking a deep breath he opened the door and pointed the flashlight toward his bed like a heavenly talisman against all things Dark and Evil.

 

Nothing moved.

 

The little boy walked carefully toward his bed, giving one last glance at the shadows on the floor and dived under the covers. He kept the flashlight on and put it on his pillow next to him, certain that no monster would get to him now.

 

Little Damian let go of the breath he was holding and closed his eyes.

 

Scratch.

 

Damian opened his eyes. And screamed.

 

When Damian's parents busted into the room, alerted by the scream of their son, they only found it empty. The bed was unmade and a red flashlight was left on the boy's pillow, forgotten.

 

Its lens was cracked and broken.

 

Maybe they should have listened.