Monsters Under The Bed Novels & Stories

Even when my eyes are open, I see the monster. Monsters are made to stay in your closet; well, they are under your bed too. Then, you need to ask yourself, does a cupboard constitutes as a closet for when I open a cupboard in the kitchen, guess what, his face is there. When I open the cabinet in the bathroom, his face is there.

Her eyes, the color of a ripe pomegranate, held a depth of ages, but they are still soft of warm understanding for me. "There are those who fear what they do not know," My mother continued. "Mortals, cling to their fleeting lives and see only the monster in the darkness. Witches, vampires, wolves… they become lost in their own power and distrust those who walk different paths. We, my darling Luna, are caught somewhere in between. We are the bridge between worlds, the guardians of secrets the living cannot understand."

I felt a devious smirk spread across my face and let my nails elongate. I lightly drug my claws down his spine, reveling in the feeling of his skin as it bubbled under my touch. His grip on me tightened yet again. He began to roll me on my back, but before he placed his body over mine, I slipped quickly from under him. I laughed as he stared bewildered at the sheets beneath him. By the time he figured out I wasn't in the bed anymore, I was already pulling on sweatpants and a baggy hoodie. I didn't bother with undergarments because I'd be taking them off soon enough.

They always say don’t joke about the thing under the bed. Like if you talk about it too much, it’ll crawl out. But I’ve never been the kind of girl who listens. Especially not with my legs spread and my fingers soaked, whispering, "If you're real, come out and fuck me already." It started as a joke. The kind of thing I’d say after too much wine and not enough dick. Some dumb fantasy about a monster under the bed—big, rough, inhuman. Something that didn’t care about manners or consent or dinner dates.

“You hear that?” Mama’s eyes went to the door. “Mm.” “What is it?” I asked. She grinned, all mischief again. “Da dead. Dey like company. I tole you, da dead do walk tonight. Dey answerin’ Marie call.” A shape bumped the stilts under us. The shack shuddered. A hand, grey, bloated, ringed, floated up against the step and then slipped away, dragged by something we couldn’t see. I looked to the door. The gator watched me with old eyes. Past it, something enormous moved under the surface, then sank. The swamp swallowed its secret.

"It's just some harmless bondage. I was going to tie you up anyway. Ol' Blackie's kink trap saved me the trouble." The no-fur crawled across the bed until he was close enough to run his fingers up and down Guru's thighs. "Okay, I admit I was very distracted by you and I wasn't thinking about finding the bridge at all but..." Guru stopped what he was saying to marvel at what he was now noticing. The thing under the bed. At least he guessed it was a thing. It appeared to have a lot of eyes and many appendages. "I think this is where ol' Blackie does very bad things to his demons! There's a something waking up under the bed that sort of looks like a jellyfish but not really. Way more grabby."

Sunlight is diffused into a soft glow by the sheer curtain pulled over the large window in my room. I have been awake for a while already, yet I haven't left the bed. I lay on my back with my head propped against two pillows, and I rub my flat tummy as if casting a spell. The incantation is a murmur on my lips. "If you're in there, just hang on. We're only here for one more night, and then we'll get back home to your Daddy. I just need you to work with me, okay?"

That was his mistake. Mark is kneeling beside my bed now, his nose wrinkled. "Dude, it's really bad. Like something crawled under there and died." He lifts the edge of the dust ruffle and peers into the darkness beneath the bed frame. I stand in the doorway, my arms crossed, my face arranged into a mask of mild embarrassment. "Probably a mouse," I say. "I've been meaning to clean under there." Mark waves a hand in front of his face. "That's no mouse. That's a whole graveyard." He laughs, but the laugh is nervous. The smell is making his eyes water. "I'm serious, man. You need to check what's under your bed."

My mind conjured a bestiary of horrors: rats with evil, gleaming eyes, scuttling spiders the size of tea saucers, multi-legged centipedes, leathery bats… The space under the bed was a dark, fathomless abyss. ‘Go on. Have a look,’ he encouraged, giving me a nudge in the small of my back.

“I think they are probably made of the dark. They come in when you don’t pay attention. That’s when they arrive.” “Then what happens?” “And then they take you back to their … not burrow. What’s a word that’s like burrow?” “Den?” “No, it’s not a den.” “Lair?” The boy was silent for a moment. He squeezed Ed’s hand and stopped talking. Then, “Yes, that’s the word, lair.” “Okay, so these monsters take the people who don’t pay attention back to their lair. And then what do your monsters do? Do they suck all the blood out like vampires?”