Under my bed
215 words
A short drabble. Part fiction, part journaling. I don't write in english often so please, bear blog with me.
When I was a kid, I used to be afraid of the monster hiding under my bed. Every night, I'd check underneath the bedframe before putting myself to sleep.
Something horrible was living in here, in this thick and dusty darkness. I couldn't see it, but I knew it was there.
And one day, it would crawl out the shadows and grab me with it's sharp claws or teeth or both and I wouldn't be able to move or scream, paralyzed with terror and it would take me away and eat me alive...
It never happened.
I grew up, eventually.
I became an adult, slept in many rooms and many beds.
And now, when I see the world with my grown-up eyes, how it's filled with suffering, hate and dread, I don't fear the monster hiding under my bed anymore.
In fact...
The underside of my bed seems to me like the safest place on Earth.
It beckons me.
I could crawl on the wood flooring of my bedroom, slip between the frame and the ground, curl myself into the dust. And I could stay here forever. Nested up into this thick and dusty darkness. Away from all the anxiety, from all the nightmares.
I could become the monster.
Oh my...
How sweet that would be!
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