Page 40 of Monsters After Dark

The Monster Under My Bed

L.V. Lane

“Aren’t you frightened living here all on your own?” my kindly neighbor, Mrs Johnson, asks. Our homes are tiny cottages nestled among the trees in the sleepy village of Tyne. Today she is visiting to drop off a basket full of cooking apples.

“No,” I say, smiling as I take the laden basket from her hands. “I’m not afraid of that at all. Haven’t I already told you? There’s a monster living under my bed, and woe betide any stranger who would dare to harm his ward.”

She laughs, and I laugh too. It is a fanciful tale, after all.

But as the door shuts on her cheery wave, I smile a different and secret smile.

I go about my day as usual. I bake an apple pie, I dust and sweep the floor, but all the while, I am thinking about the sweet and wicked monster who lives under my bed.

He has been there for as long as I can remember. When I was younger and my parents were still alive, he kept the bad things away. But now that I am older, he serves a very different purpose.

As night falls, I take my oil lamp and climb up the rickety wooden stairs to my bedroom, and placing the lamp on the nightstand, I ready myself for bed.

The sheets are cool as I slip between them. This is my favorite time of day, when I can fall into the other part of my life, one where monsters exist. I push my white nightgown all the way down to my knees and pull the covers up all the to my chin, enclosing myself inside.

Reaching over, I put out my lamp before swiftly tucking my hand back beneath the sheets.

As I lie in bed, my eyes adjust, tuning in to the darkness and shadows that seem to call me into their welcoming embrace. But they do not frighten me; the shadows comfort me here.

Tonight a sweet, achy tension is building inside. There is only one outlet for it, but I find I enjoy resisting the pull for a little while. I’m thinking about him, about him being under my bed. Knowing he is waiting brings a delectable type of thrill.

He knows the sign and what it means. We have agreed on this long ago. Some nights I merely rest peacefully, knowing he is underneath my bed, and some nights I need a different kind of comfort from him. Tonight, as I gaze up at the darkened ceiling above my bed, I know I cannot resist.

Carefully I draw the covers back, just a little, just enough to slip my toes outside.

A loud thud and a screech come from beneath me, followed by a deep grinding vibration as he shifts, awakening and rousing himself to me and my needs.

Anticipation brings a flutter to my heart. I fidget, thinking about what is to come. My signal is an agreement that all power is given to him. It is always my choice how this starts, but it is his choice how it ends.

Another thud and a low rumble follow. I squeeze my thighs together as I sense him becoming sentient, becoming ever more aware of me.

I shift, pushing my whole foot out from under the covers. There will be no doubts now in my sweet monster’s mind that his ward has needs.

I feel the faintest quickening, a featherlight touch across the arch of my foot. It is like a summer breeze stirring. I shiver, trying to anticipate what might come next, knowing that I will fail.

The whisper turns into the faint scrape of a claw. It runs the length of my arch all the way to my ankle. Then another claw joins it, and then another, until a whole hand wraps all the way around.

I whimper softly. We have played this game many times, and I am conditioned to him and his ways.

Although my room is lost to shadows, I still see him as he morphs, and out of the blackness, a monster now looms. Towering, powerful, and covered in thick, dark fur—he is a beast in all ways.

He is about to do beastly things to me.

A great crackling, rumbly purr emanates from his chest. The hand wrapped around my ankle slides a little way up and down my calf. I groan, wanting more, wanting his hand to slide farther still.

He doesn’t comply with my wishes, for my monster is not to be rushed.

Just knowing that he will do precisely the opposite of what I desire brings a clench deep inside my womb.

“Your needs are great tonight, my sweet little maiden,” the monster says.

“Yes,” I say. “Please, please do not make me wait. I cannot wait tonight.”

My pleading only sees his purr shift to a husky laugh. “I foresee my maiden will spend a great deal of time begging tonight.”

---