It wasn't the noise of the rain beating down on the roof that had frightened little Sara as she lay in her bed with her covers up to her chin. Nor was it the fact that her mother refused to waste the lamp kerosene each night, leaving Sara almost completely in darkness. No, Sara's fear was that a monster lived under her bed, a fear shared by many children her age.
She was as quiet as a mouse as she tried to listen for any other sounds than the rain. The sudden growling of her stomach startled her. Figuring she probably had nothing to fear, she rolled over on to her side and hugged her stuffed animal. Her family was too poor for a real pet.
If anything had planned to gobble her up this night, she had high hopes that her stuffed animal would protect her. At least, this was the thought that helped her sleep at night. As the rain began to subside into a soft drizzle, she rested her eyes, convincing herself she would only do this for a moment. Just as she was about to slip into the land of dreams, there was a loud sound, like something in her room had just been knocked over. Awoken with a start, she sat upright and looked about.
The light of the moon fell across her bedspread, and partly on to the floor. The shapes of the objects in her room could just faintly be made out. Had the oil lamp been closer to her bed, she could have lighted it. However, it was on a table across the room, and she didn't have the confidence to get off her bed.
"Hello?" She hugged her toy closely to her and gulped nervously. She sat as still as she could to listen, but did heard aside from the rain. She told herself it was only in her head, but she really didn't believe that. Something was under the bed.
She managed to make it through morning, having fallen asleep eventually from exhaustion. The first thing she did when she woke was to sprawl out across the bed. She hooked one of her ankles about a bedpost, and leaned over the side to peek under the bed.
However, all she saw were dust bunnies, and an old plate of food she had hidden under there a week ago. She and her brother weren't supposed to eat in their rooms. Her mother had insisted time and time again that this would attract ants, but Sara loved hiding away in her cozy bedroom when she could. That is, when there was light.
The half-eaten food was still as she had left it, only it was growing mold on it. The child made a face and hopped down from her bed. Grabbing the plate, she padded across the floor barefoot and made her way to the kitchen. There her mother was already making them breakfast. The usual oats had been prepared. It seemed like that was all they ever ate for breakfast. Sara's father had passed away two summers ago, and without hired hands, her mother was left to do the farmwork. The crops were dry and weak, and her mother was in a foul mood for not finding a buyer at the market.
"Mother, there's a monster under my bed," Sara said as she took a seat at the table. Her brother Roland rolled his eyes and made a scoffing sound, while her weary mother turned and frowned at her.
"Sara, there is no monster under your bed. It's just something we tell you so you'll behave." She set a bowl of oatmeal down for Sara, then turned to return to washing the dishes. "Now eat up. Mrs. Rosemary would like you to get the weeds from her garden."
The child groaned, and received a dirty look from her mother. Doing the odd errand or chore here and there meant a small but steady supply of coins for the things they needed. "Ye'll do it," her mother replied in a stern tone, "and you'll get over there as soon as you finish breakfast."
"Monsters," her brother whispered low to her behind their mother's back. He grinned deviously.
Sara went to work on Mrs. Rosemary's garden that morning, pulling out the weeds, planting seeds, and anything else the old woman wanted. The day was sweltering hot and by the time she was finished she was drenched in her own sweat. She only received a few silver pieces for all her hard work, and knew her mother would surely scold her for what would seem like a job done poorly.
Hardly was there a day when Sara was not over at the neighbor's, helping her around the house and garden. Each time she would come home tired, yet would stay awake for half of the night out of fear. Sometimes she would hear something go bump in the night, or was certain that her closet door had just squeaked open a little. Once she thought she heard a hissing noise. Another time she thought she could hear movement beneath her bed, but she found her blanket made the same rustling sound when shifted it about.
It was on one of the hottest days of the summer that Mrs. Rosemary invited Sara to come inside for tea. This was a surprise to her, as the elderly woman never offered her anything to eat or drink but warm water. The child was not particularly fond of tea, but she did not wish to seem rude and end up hearing about it later from her mother. "Take what you can get," her mother would say. "We're not too good to be accepting charity." As she sat quietly across the table from the woman, she resisted asking her the question she'd been dying for an adult to answer.
Mrs. Rosemary must have seen it on her face for she set her tea down and gave a nod. "Speak your mind, child."
The girl felt foolish, but she knew of no one else to ask.
"Do you believe in monsters?" She regretted it the moment she said it, and averted her gaze to admire the woman's collection of trinkets on a nearby shelf.
"Monsters? Why of course, my dear. Why the kindest man you meet walking down the street could be a monster, and you might never know it." She offered the child a piece of bread. Sara was surprised to see she had lathered butter on it, which was hard to buy at the market when you were on a low budget.
"No, I mean monster monsters. Like the kind that... hide in closets, or under the bed." As she started on the bread, her taste buds rejoiced.
"Oh, those monsters. Yes, I believe in them. A frightful thing for any little boy or girl. They only leave once they have succeeded in devouring a child."
Sara suddenly lost her appetite.
"Why do you ask, my dear? Do you have one hiding under your bed?"
The child promptly shook her head. The last thing she needed was for the whole town to know that she thought some monster was living under her bed. Her mother would never hear the end of it, and that meant Sara wouldn't either.
"Just asking." She stood up a smile, while secretly slipping the rolled up piece of bread into her pocket. "I think I hear my mother calling me, may I be excused?"
It was later that week when she had just gotten settled into her bed that she heard scratching noises on the floor. Too startled to even sit up, she laid there with her eyes wide and round. When it didn't cease, she croaked out a startled "Hello?" The scratching immediately ceased, leaving her fearful in silence.
Not just two moments later did the scratching begin again. She wished she had moved the oil lamp closer to her bed and secretly have had lighted it after her mother had tucked her in. "I--I have a knife," was all she could muster. Regardless, the sounds of scratching continued to slowly drag along the floorboards beneath the bed. Sitting upright, she looked over the side of the bed, and in doing so knocked her stuff animal off the side.
The noises then ceased, and all became dead quiet. She stared down at the floor, at her toy. Hardly a minute passed, but it felt like an eternity. Finally, she reached down and grabbed her toy when something slimy shot out and grabbed her wrist.
Sara fell to the floor and began to scream loudly as the thing tried to pull her under. It was too dark to see anything underneath the bed, but she was sure she was being pulled to death. The screaming must have woken her mother, for suddenly the bedroom door flung open. Her mother ran forward and grabbed one of her ankles, and tugged her back out from underneath the bed.
Unable to contain his laughter, Roland crawled out from underneath. "You should have seen the look on your face! You--" His grin quickly disappeared at the sight of their mother, who immediately grabbed him by the ear and dragged him out of the bedroom while he yelled in a fit of protest.
Sara stood there, dumbfounded and in disbelief. Her wrist felt cold, and when she looked down at it, she saw it was covered with a dark and slimey substance. Lifting it to her nose, she could smell the grape jam. Muttering something about brothers, she started for the bed when she heard her closet door creak open. Approaching it slowly, she closed it and turned around. There, beneath the bed, was a pair of glowing white eyes.
She stopped dead in her tracks, and began to stutter. "I--I--" It stayed where it was, unmoving. She heard a hiss of dead air being released from its mouth. "Please don't, I... I'll give you want you want, I promise." She backed toward the door, while its narrowed gaze followed her movements. Opening her door, she ran out into the dark hallway. Judging by the silence, it appeared both her mother and brother had gone back to sleep. She hurried now toward her brother's room, feeling her way there by trailing her hand along the wall. When she found his door, she entered his bedroom and began to shake him where he lay in his bed.
"Gods, Sara, what do you want?" He opened his eyes upon being fiercely shaken, and gave her an annoyed look. Pushing her off of him, he pulled the covers up over his head. She heard him say in a nearly muffled tone, "Go back to bed or I'll tell mother you're up."
Uncertain of what she would do now, she looked back the way she came and saw the blank white eyes peering at her from the hallway. Her stomach churning with dread, and the girl fearing for her life, she took a step to the side. "Look, he's right here," said in soft whispers. "You can have him."
"Who are you talking to?" Her brother flipped up the top of the blanket and turned over to face her. "You goat-headed pig, get out of my room, now." His look of annoyance quickly turned into a look of horror as he glanced past her and into the hallway. He hardly had a chance to open his mouth to scream.
What happened was so quick, she found it difficult to recall later. The beast blurred right past her from out of the hallway, and blanketed her brother in darkness. Without looking back, she fled from his room in a state of panic. Running down the hallway as quick as her feet would carry her, the sounds of muffled screams and flesh tearing were suddenly drowned out by the bedroom door slamming shut on itself.
She barred her bedroom door shut with the back of a chair, and clutching her stuffed animal tightly, slept hardly a wink of sleep the rest of the night.
When she hesitantly checked his bedroom the next morning, she found no sign of Roland. Gathering her courage, she looked under the bed, and found only a small piece of his pajamas. Pocketing this so that nobody else would find it, it was assumed by the town that young Roland had run away, even though nothing else of his was missing. Their mother was so stricken with grief that she was unable to concentrate on farm duties. Eventually she had to sell what land had left, including their home. Although she believed her son would one day return, she and Sara had to move to a small house in the village. To make up for the absence of her brother, Sara got a job at a bakery to help support what was left of her small family, until her mother passed away.
Over time she came to believe that her brother really had run away. She went on with her life, and one day married a charming young gentleman. They moved into a new house and had several children together. It was some time later when the middle child of the three, at the age of six then, entered their kitchen one morning and said "Papa, there's a monster under my bed."
The End
