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Disavowal-Childhood Fears Turned Real

Updated on July 5, 2014


This is rather an odd story based upon one of my biggest fears I had as a child-the monster underneath the bed. This is a supernatural story based in the second P.O.V and I hope you enjoy


You know who you are and who you will never be. It is one of the traits that you acquire that drive people toward you and you yourself push them away. You really do not appreciate the regular activities that young adults crave which screams of desperation and denial about what life is really about. You are not the one who needs a puppet master to define what path you should take in life as if that is the only option you should travel down. In all people will describe you as an independent soul, free to speak your opinion and looks as confident as could be; which is what you want them to see.

That doesn't stop the fear late at night when you are alone, cuddled up in your bed, lights off, in pitch silence with nothing but the howling wind and the occasional car passing by. Nights is always a shattering experience for you, illuminating off your fear that you cannot shake. You feel foolish for the panic as if by having this irrational paranoia that you are less of a person but you take solace in the fact that you are the only one who knows about it. You can still manage to hide it from your loved ones and friends.

Keep It A Secret

You keep it as a dark rooted secret and do whatever is possible to prevent the information from getting out. In all honestly, you secretly like the fact that you have this secret. People are always more exciting when they are hiding something. Only your fears are nothing grand, you have no reason behind it, no traumatizing experiences. It’s all from your own warped imagination. You have a grand imagination, one that sometimes you know you will be better without. You are deeply troubled in the worst sense, as your years of macabre interests, keeps you awake late at night when nothing is there to distract you from your paranoia. You once joked with your friends that it is a miracle to make it to old age knowing everything that can go wrong.

Your deep rooted fear that you are ashamed of magnifies in the silence, in the darkness, with every noise. Even the simple vibration of the walls when a truck zoom pass or the moans from the old pipes that always makes your heart beat a little quicker.

You are scared mostly every night and it’s been that way since you remember. You don’t trust the world. You know too much about the dangers lurking around the corner to allow yourself to let your guard down. Do you deny your trepidation when you were a child staring at the darkness- oozing out from the crack of your closet door? Remember those nights you tiptoed from your room to the bathroom because the hallway was too long and you never felt safe? Then again you never liked that house, you always felt like something was watching you, always had those goose bumps that wasn't caused by the cold and made you afraid of being alone.

Your childhood was scarred with these fictional creatures even through today you laugh as you remember how you hid beneath your blanket to protect you from the world that seemed so big and yet you were so small. You wonder sometimes what your parents thought as they had to look underneath your bed every night. You also wonder why you never got the courage to look yourself. Regardless nothing happened. Nothing was and nothing will ever be hiding under your bed. Its all make-believe, life isn't that exciting, these things don’t exist.

One Days You Wish You Could Have Those Innocent Fears Back

When you became a teenager that’s when the dreaded monsters turned more real, more flesh, more dangerous. You realize nothing could be scarier that what other humans could do to another and that made your childhood fears so innocent that you held and still believe those memories are precious. It is funny how something could seem so scary at one point of your life and yet be nothing at another point.

Some days you wish you could have those innocent fears back. Forget about the possibility of getting murdered or raped, you want the silly monster underneath your bed or the alien standing outside your window watching you sleep. Other days you are happy that you no longer fear monsters because if you still do that weird sound coming from the empty room next to yours will give you a heart attack.

It Is Just Too Much Noise To Concentrate On

Some days, like tonight you walk into your house and go from feeling safe to suddenly feeling alarmed. You feel yourself slowly getting out of breath while your skin crawls from something your body senses but your mind ignores. In fact it hits you so strongly that you stand in your doorway for a minute or two to see if the feelings grow or dim. You will sometimes hear a noise that could easily be written off as natural even if you start imagining things that most people will stay away from. You will walk in slowly, carefully sitting your things down quietly and just walk around looking for anything abnormal. You find nothing in your search except your lack of sanity. You must have left it someplace else tonight.

Regardless what you do you cannot shake that feeling of being watched. You try to watch your television or read a book but after ten minutes of sitting in the living room, lights fully on, fan spinning overhead, clock ticking, voices shouting on the television, wind howling, walls creaking, pipes moaning, sirens going off outside, cars zooming past-it all becomes too much. It is just too much noise to concentrate on, too much noise to try and cancel out, and it is overpowering.

So you turn the television off, canceling out one noise, no more screaming and no more canned laughter, leaving you with the natural noise of nighttime. And even standing there in the artificial lights, completely safe from all dangers, you still wait for something to show itself to you; make you realize that your childhood fears are not as innocent as society makes you believe.

Tonight Your illusion Will Break

Nothing ever happens. Every night you walk past the curtains that separate the washer and dryer from the walkway, the curtains always puffed out as if a person is hiding behind it. You pass the darkened stairs that led to the room you had no access to and turn on the hallway light and your bedroom light. Only from there do you cross the stairway and the curtains to turn off the living room light and then walk back and turn off the hallway light before entering your room and locking the door behind you.

You always felt safer in a locked room. When you were a child you never even wanted your door shut, preferred to keep it open safe from the monsters that plague your enclosed room. Now you want the sanctuary of being enclosed, keeping you safe from the possibility of somebody breaking into your home. As you calm down you immediately get a rush of noise coming from the clock ticking in your room loudly, always ticking, it never stops, but it is not as loud as your squeaky floorboards that you always try so delicately to avoid. Your room is safe, you always feel content in the tiny room filled with way too many objects and clothes that mostly are too small for you.

Your hope and dreams lay on your spirit and your determination. Forget the weird stuff that is happening and focus on the good stuff, numb yourself to your fears by thinking about how good your life will be when you finish college and get a good job. When you sleep dream about that, dream about what your dream house would look like or what your future lover would look like.

Are You Ready To Have Your World Shaken up?

You are in the middle of your mundane and unsatisfying nightly routine wishing to break the habit and do something crazy, go out and do something you always swear you will never do. Go to a party; meet more people your age, stop acting older than you are. Do anything different.

Then your phone rings. This is what sets up your main surprise for the evening. Are you ready for it? You may not like the surprise but it will like it. The series of events starts with you searching for your phone that you lazily tossed somewhere when you first entered the room. The ringtone echoed from your bed, the chirping mess that isn’t on your comforter or beneath it, or under your pillows. The bedsprings creak from your weight as you pause and listen more efficiently. It’s coming from underneath your bed.

Don’t worry it’s too early still. Your phone has fallen off the bed and is now resting twitchily underneath. You are too lazy to get off of the soft mattress to retrieve it so you decide to just lean over the side of bed and dangle your hands there, letting your hands venture in the dark mass that seems to stretch for miles. The sweep of your hands across the soft carpet comes up empty handed and you growl as the ringtone drags on and on, distracting you, you lean over more and sweep your hands further underneath the bed.

You stretch your fingers out as you sweep again, hitting the legs of the bedsprings, but no phone. You curse slightly as you lean over even more and your hands run over containers full of clothes that are too cold to wear and boxes full of junk that you don’t have the heart to throw away. There on the last box you feel the item that had suddenly become the object of desire. Just as you grab it you hear it, a low shuffling noise coming from beneath your bed but you gather the vibrating of the phone unwisely dismissing the noise with any further consideration.


Voice Echoed In The Silent Room

You don’t spend anymore thought on the noise as you quickly sit up and answer the phone. Your voice echoed in the silent room as you meet nothing more than the dial room. You missed the call. You groan as you take the phone from your ear in order to check the number to either ignore or call back before you freeze as you noticed a red smear on your screen.

You look at the smear on screen, you could see an outline of the creases of your thumb’s fingerprints on the bloody screen and you lift up your thumb to explore it. You watch as more of the fragile liquid drops from your hand and onto your lap, the phone feeling moist and slippery in your hand. You bite your lip as you drop the phone, your hand discolored as blood laced it. Now the pain comes, hit you like a force, it stings badly as if you stuck your hands in a wasp nest. You stand up ignoring the phone that is once again ringing.

What Is happening?

Curiosity and pain causes you to open the door to the bathroom that is adjacent to your bedroom. Blood is still dripping from your palm and falling on your clothes, staining them, ruining them. You clutch your wounded hand with your other hand, trying to stop the blood from getting everywhere. The knobs to the sink gets bloody as you turn the water on before sticking your injured hand underneath the cold spray of water and let it sting for a while before inspecting your hand.

When you finally see it you let out a shocked cry of outrage. You see a horizontal abrasion, a cut, reaching from the beginning of your middle finger all the way to your wrist. It isn’t a deep cut that will require medical care but is not a shallow cut. As you touch the cut with your other hand more blood starts to leak. You stare at it for a minute hypnotize by the sight and smell of blood when you hear a weird noise coming from your bedroom.

There's Something In The Room

Kind of like a grinding noise, maybe shuffling, maybe a moan, you can’t place it. It sounds almost like something is moving around in the lit bedroom but the room looks as peaceful as it always did, it doesn’t look anything out of the ordinary. For a minute, old childish fears race through your mind (monsters!!!), reminding you of the time your sister told you a story about what happens to children who slept without their blankets on, how they would meet a terrible fate by being so vulnerable when they were unable to keep their guard up. You shake these thoughts away; there is nothing here, no supernatural beings or human beings wanting to hurt you. You are as safe as you always have been.

You look down at your wound again, trying to find something to wrap it with but the only thing you could find is toilet paper. You reluctantly use it. You take a shaky breath as you look back to your bedroom, your eyes scanning over the room as if you are inspecting a crime scene. Once again you see nothing out of the ordinary. Your desk sits in a corner, your laundry basket on another, you’re clean and crisp made bed is empty of any mass. All your souvenirs and glasses, books, CDs, DVDs, and game stations are where they are supposed to be. Everything is fine.

Right, keep telling yourself that. Ignore that you just got cut from something in the room. Forget that you keep hearing shuffling noises coming from your room (monsters!!). Forget how your heart is speeding up and you feel as if tonight is the night you are going to die. Everything is fine. Everything is always fine.

Once again you feel childish over freaking out over such a diminutive adventure you have the pleasure in starring in. After all there is so many ways you can hurt yourself without meaning to, definitely in a busy room like this. The scrap against your palm can be caused by scratching your hand against one of the legs of the bed or a lose bedspring or the edge of a container. Perhaps you have dropped something underneath the bed and don’t remember and it scratched you up (Yet there was a noise!!!)

Something Is Not Right

The noises may be nothing. Houses of all ages and sizes make noises; sometimes they are more noticeable than others. Better yet it is a windy night so perhaps the brushes outside are hitting the windows and grinding against it. You are just taking everything out of proportions and once again subconsciously wishing for a break of the mundane by having something like this to happen. Knowing that, you think about walking out of the room, go back to the living room, turn on some happy comedy sitcom and just relax for a couple of hours, and wait until your worries vanish.

You won’t do it. You won’t go into the living room. You know you want to look, come on don’t be shy. You glance back to your bedroom again your eyes focusing on the darkness that leaked out from underneath your bed, flirting with you, motioning you to come over and play in blackness, to explore a new world. You look back at your hand again wondering, always curious by nature, even with the fear that you carry with you on your back. What if, you think to yourself, fooling yourself into some courage that you should restrain from, what if there was a lose spring or sharp edges to the leg, if there is you have to fix it in order for it to not happen again right?

Ignore the little voice in the back of your head warning you that something isn’t right with this picture. Ignore your instinct to get out. Ignore the dryness of your throat and the shakiness of your body. No, your body is just overreacting to your mind’s fears. Your mind is the one who is imagining a darkened mass underneath your bed with glowing red eyes and long claws clinging to the bedsprings and waiting for you to foolishly peak your head underneath the bed not your body. Your body is simply reacting to what the brain tells it to feel. You don’t need to worry about what signs your body is giving off. Keep on ignoring it, your mind wants to know if there is a monster wanting to scratch your face apart lurking beneath your bed, you should amuse it by looking.

The Sheets Following Closely Behind

You are no more of a servant to your own doom with pseudo-courage and a warped mind. You take a foot toward your room, shaking slightly, still whispering to yourself that you scratched your hand on a lose spring. Your heart flutters in your chest as you hear it again, quiet shuffling. You are a good puppet, come on keep walking, you are minutes away from getting the excitements you have been secretly craving for.

You could see it in your mind. The dark heavy solid mass clawing itself over the containers you have thrown underneath the bed when you first moved in and haven’t touched or opened since. Its long claws scratching the containers, crumbling lose papers from past school assignments.

You hear a bang. You stop walking, your chest feels tight, you feel more awake, and you want to run away, you really do. You take another step closer; you make it to the doorway of the bathroom, your hands clinging to the doorframe desperately, not yet wanting to leave the safety of the room that save you from whatever terrors, fake or real, awaits you. You feel so hot all of the sudden, your head hurts, your hair is standing up on your arms, your throat is dry. Everything is telling you to run but you need to see this through to prove to yourself that nothing is underneath the bed (there is no such thing as monsters!). You need to regain your sanity.

Go ahead and lie to yourself that nothing is there as you take another step toward your bed that was once a sanctuary to you. Amuse yourself by trying to come up with a logical explanation to why your comforter is starting to slide toward the edge of the bed on the opposite side of you. You watch as the first pillow flops off the bed, you don’t see it when it hits the floor but you hear it. You take a step back as you watch the comforter go over the side as quick as a landslide. The sheets following closely behind like some devoted lover taking the other pillow with it, ignoring its struggles to stay on the bed. No victors today, no survivors remain, the mattress now lay naked and exposed to you.

You really wish you have a puppy or a kitty, something that you could write off what just happened. You don’t have any animals through and you live by yourself. You are all alone. You don’t even have a house phone to even call somebody if anything were to happen, you only have your cell phone. Your cell phone that is tangled up in the comforter, the comforter that is on the other side of the bed, the comforter that you would have to get enough courage to climb over your mattress and retrieve it. You don’t trust getting so close to your bed to attempt this. You have no choice.

Are You Ready?

You walk forward again, stomach churning as you hear a low growl radiating from the darkness that you want to avoid so badly. You just want your phone; you make it to your bed before climbing on top of it, shaking when the bed squeaks with your weight. You crawl on and over your queen sized mattress, listening to the floorboards underneath it squeak and smack along as if something was crawling underneath the bed to the same beat as you. You could hear ghastly breathing that was harsher and airier than yours making your skin crawl as you get to the other side.

Are you ready? Can you feel it getting stronger; can you feel the mattress on your knees, as you look over the edge at the tangled mess of blankets? Do you feel your heart bumping quickly as your breath feels warm on your chest; do you wonder that if you lean over far enough to where you can look underneath your bed you will see something there?

You kneel there on the bed, pausing your intake of air as you see a tug on the blankets, the blankets slowly itching toward the edge of the bed and slowly disappearing under it. You don’t want to go down there, don’t want to lean over and grab the blankets nor push your legs out to touch the floor. In your midst of figuring out your next move you can’t help but hear crunching papers again and the softy pitter-platter of something moving about. It is circling beneath you like a shark with a wounded seal.

You no longer feel like an adult. You are once again a little child shaking and crying on your bed and begging for your mother and father to save you from the terrors that taunt you at night. To save you by their presence and light from the hallway of whatever monster your mind made up for you that night. Only tonight your mother and father are not here to save you and you are certain now that whatever was in your room was indeed very real and very perilous.


You have to get the courage you never had as a child. You need to step off the bed, find your phone, look underneath your bed, face your fears, and then everything would stop. If you only look you will not be feeling this wave of terror you are experiencing and instead you could start to calm down. Just do it already. The night is too long to let fear crush you and you have to get up early, you cannot afford to lose yourself to something not there. Stop being weak.

You take a breath as you let a foot reach toward the floor, cold sweat attacked your forehead as you waited for some creature to jump out from the darkness and rip your leg apart, spilling blood everywhere, chucks of skin flying in all directions. You would scream from pain and terror and fall off the bed landing pitifully on the soft comforter that kept you from being bruised. You will not even get a second of a break as it attacks you scratching your chest up, cutting open your stomach, chewing on your flesh that you needed to stay alive and it would all happen so quickly and it would bite your head and cut open your eye and…

Your foot lands safety on the ground. You are still in one piece. Your heart thumps in your heart as you rest your other foot down before kneeling beside the blankets shaking them out one by one looking for your phone that you desperately need to cling onto. You dig around, crying as you finally find and untangle it from the blankets. You go to stand up, to jump back onto the bed and escape through the door, you would lock it from the outside and call your parents and apologize for the fight you guys have earlier today and beg them to let you come home, just for one night, just let you go back to your old room with your twin bed and your childhood comforter.

You go to stand up before your eyes met the darkness once again. Almost here, almost it is time, ready? You are so close to it that you could see the outline of the containers barely. Your phone shakes in your hand as you push a button making the phone lit up even if it is so dim that it only lights up briefly. You had to do yourself the favor and look under the bed before you act stupid and call your parents and beg them to let you come home and then for the rest of your life you would think about this night and freak out because you never saw this through. You are too old to let fear keep you captive anymore. It was time to grow up.



You inch toward the darkness, your mind and body both screaming at you to pull back. You lay there searching in the darkness for something that shouldn’t be there as you shakily put your hands in front of you and pushed another button again, letting the phone give off a low hum of light.

There. There is something there, on the other side of the bed, lying sideways, it is there. There is actually something there. You don’t know what it is. It doesn’t matter. You silently scream as your phone shakes making the dim light flicker and move. You tell yourself to push yourself up, run, run, get the fuck up and go. You are frozen through. You can’t move. Just sat there staring.

You hear loud noise, like clicks of nails against flooring and you froze as you watch the thing start to move. Oh dear god it is moving, why is it moving? You tense up even more. Slowly started to wiggle yourself back out from underneath your bed, heart beating too quickly, feeling dizzy.

Your phone is going off again, the noise making you scream and you jump out from underneath your bed before jumping on your bed and jumping off the other side, running toward the open door of your bathroom before slamming the door shut. You try not to cry as you kneel down by the wall breathing harshly staring at your phone that had stopped ringing. Trying to compose yourself you desperately dial a friend’s number to get some help but....

The phone connects with a solemn voice that sounds too much like your decreased mother. You just stare at the phone in disbelief as the voice echoed throughout the bathroom, “hello.” Sounds of pictures breaking distracts you, the noise coming from the horrors stalking you from your bedroom. You pause your breathing, your lungs feeling like they are seconds away from exploding as you hear the sound of nails digging into the wooden door. Your ears are struggling to decide what you should be more frightened of. Is it the scratches damaging your oak door or the “hello” slowly twisting your mother’s voice into a hollow deathly scowl?

You jump as the voice, as sinister as could be morphs into something unnatural, demonic. You do not get a second to calm down as you feel something solid crash against the door and you look up at the doorknob that seem to be jiggling with every slam against the door.

The voice on the phone gets more hoarse with every scream as you stare at the doorknob slowly start to turn. Your phone is just a cry of hisses and growls now as you get on your knees and lock the doorknob before jumping into the corner and drawing your knees up to your chest.

With the pounding on the door and the voice screeching, you grab your towel from your rack and throw it over your head. After all if you cannot see it than it doesn't exist.


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