Monster Under the Bed

I can hear it moving again.
I have heard it for a few nights now. Strange movements, scratching, breathing and every now and again screeching that makes my skin crawl.
I've told my mom; she thinks I'm making it up. She told me not to be silly.
There are no such things as monsters.
It's so dark  around me, I can only just make out the ceiling above me, square and white.
It's moving again, louder than before.
I'm too scared to call for my mom, what if it hears me?
I press my eyes shut and hope the noises disappear. Was that a thud? And now the screeching starts. It runs through me like ice. So loud and incessant, interrupted by deep breaths like hiccups.
I cannot stand it, why does my mom not hear it?
Is there movement in the darkness? Oh no, don't let it find me.
I curl up in a ball, keep my limbs together and pretend that if I cannot see the monster then it cannot see me. That should work!
I bravely squint through my eyelids, wondering if the monster's gone.
What is this?
It's bristly and round, with insanely huge eyes, and it's staring right at me.
I whimper “Mom?” but nobody hears me.
The creature's not moving, but something else is.
Fingers, long and pointy, appear from the darkness.
They make their way towards me.
They're getting closer, fumbling around.
​“Mom! Mooom!” I'm hysterically crying as the fingers grab me and pull me from underneath the bed.

THE END

(c) Patricia Green