I woke suddenly. For a moment I laid with my eyes shut, listening for
something that could have woken me.
There was nothing. I shifted position.
What was that?
I had heard something. Not the slight squeak of bed springs, or the soft
rustle of bedclothes. Something I couldn't identify, something that had
waited until I had moved, to mask its own noise.
The room was too dark. I flicked on the nightlight by my bed, stealing
myself. Now I was enclosed in a pool of yellow light and the rest of my room
was hidden in shadows.
There were too many shadows.
I wanted, I needed, to turn on my bedroom light. My legs wouldn't move. I
could only stare at the switch as if it was a hundred miles away.
I couldn't bring myself to place my foot on the carpet. All those childish
fears about things under the bed now seemed very real. I knew that if I got
out of bed a clawed hand would snake out from underneath the dust ruffle and
wind itself around my ankle. I knew
There was another slight noise. Oh, I needed that light. Before I could stop
to think too long about it, I leapt from my bed and ran to the switch,
knocking my hip heavily against the dresser, stumbling about in the dark,
and feeling my heart race in my chest. I couldn't find the switch. I
couldn't even find the walls.
My searching hand slammed on the switch. Blinding light flooded the room. I
looked around wildly, expecting a scaly arm to be slithering back under the
bed. There was nothing. Of course.
I tried to laugh at myself. What was wrong with me? An adult and still
panicking over the fears of childhood. Monsters, for god's sake. Getting
scared about monsters.
For all this, though, I left the light on.
I crept back into bed. The nightlight was still on, and as I reached out to
turn it off, my hand knocked my glass of water off the little table. I
cursed, leant out, and put my hand on the carpet...
Mistake. Every child knows the bed is safe. You never leave it at night, not
even a single toe.
Something like a rough, clawed hand clamped down on my wrist.
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