It Can’t Be Real

You close your eyes.

The door is open. You know for sure now, because the dim light from outside shines through, reflecting off your thick glasses only you can see through. It makes you uncomfortable to think that this will be your new home for the night, but there’s nothing you can do about it now.

There’s a figure. You don’t know who it is, but it’s definetely not Mum. The figure comes closer, eyes bloodshot that even you can see it in the darkness that engulfs you tonight. Your feet are frozen in bed, knowing this new world you’re in is like a shark. One move, and you’ll only be in the iniquity for eternity. You have read enough books and watched enough movies to know that.

You don’t have much time to think. The world sweeps you away, and you’re back in your real bed, in your real home... away from those so-called monsters under your bed.

There is still a feeling that keeps you from moving. Something about home doesn’t seem like it anymore. It might just be your thoughts, but a notion tells you to stay put. Finally, when you know that every single branch outside your window is still, that every single person is asleep, your nerves calm and you sink back into your blanket.

It seems like a few minutes when you wake up again, but when your eyes shoot out and you look at your watch still clinging to your arm, you know it has been three hours since you were last awoken. This time, when you look up at the beast growling at your feet, you know you will never drop back into the pillow and sleep without caution again.

The animal is ghastly, with fur clutching its body, patches with bloody skin. Its teeth are sharp enough even it seems your watch is terrified, rolling down your arm and into your sleeve as you jerk your hands up for protection, knowing it will be no good.

It is when the beast lunges for you, that you open your eyes for real this time.