In the deep dark depths of night monsters hide. In the corners beyond the murky shadows and the dismal place from under my bed, I know they lay, waiting…waiting.
My name is Sophie Brown, I am almost 3 years old, and I believe there are creatures living in my bedroom.
If you come upon these records, I very well may be gone. Obliterated by the heinous beings I fear so greatly at this time.
It all began a few weeks ago, when I came to the realization that in times of darkness, things get potently daunting.
It started with a strange sound in which Mama could not identify. She told me it was just the natural sounds that a house makes, obviously this was just an attempt at subduing my fright.
Her lame efforts failed.
Then, I began acknowledging the slight movement as I lay in bed surrounded by the dim light of the hallway. This movement came from the places I rarely think about; my closet where the dress-up clothes live and at the end of my bed where I sometimes look at picture books.
What could it be? I call in a mad scream for Mama, she is sleeping soundly in the next room over. I call again.
She stumbles sleepily into my bedroom. Her hazy approach provides no comfort, since if there is something lurking ravenously in my room she will clearly be of no assistance in this detrimental time. I need Daddy, he is strong and will no doubt eradicate any beast that comes near me.
I immediately change my plea for help, once coming to this unfortunate resolution, and call for my Daddy.
Mama tells me that he is sleeping and that I should go back to sleep too. And quite frankly the woman uses this condescending tone that I find offensive in such circumstances.
‘This is an eat or be eaten kind of time WOMAN. Don’t you tell me to go to sleep! Who in their right mind could sleep at a moment like this?!’
I think of saying, but decide better of it, because in the end, I suppose she being here is better than solitude.
I tell her of the monsters I suspect to be living in my closet, the creature who is currently waiting to POUNCE from under the bed and the eyes that stare at me when the lights get turned off.
She ignores my cries of concern! She gets angry at me for waking her up! She dismisses each warning about these ghastly creatures I try to give her!
Stupid, silly, ignorant woman. This will be her greatest blunder once the monsters decide to rear their ugly heads.
I begin to shriek insistently. I am not proud of my performance but it is the only way I can grab her stilted attention at this time.
Finally she stomps her way over to my lamp and turns it on, while saying, “There are you happy?!” in a not-so happy nature.
I again try to explain my plight, but to no avail, she is already making her dreary way back to her own room.
I make a mental note to myself that Mother will be of absolutely no assistance when the dreaded day of the monsters attack does come. I will have to defend myself, and try to get Daddy in on the state of affairs, this is as long as Mama has not jaded his outlook on it as of yet.
As for now, the bedsides lamp provides solace, enough in fact that sleep may even come easy this night.
Tomorrow, in the security of daylight I will summon every ounce of bravery I have and I will search for the beast under the bed.
I just hope, it will not be too late.