UNDER THE BED
By Randy Romero
Blake Fitzgerald–or Fitz, as he
colloquially referred to by friends, neighbors, and co-workers alike–had seen
one too many horror movies. He used to love them as a kid, when these films had
virtually no effect on him. Now, as an adult, one horror movie was enough to
invoke many sleepless nights.
And like many others, Fitz was
consumed by the irrational fear of letting one of his appendages dangle
precariously over the side of his bed.
What if there’s some strange,
unearthly creature lurking under my bed? What if a monster grabs me and pulls
me underneath? As long as I keep my arms and legs tucked under the covers, I’ll
stay safe.
Call it paranoia. Call it
superstition. Call it primal fear. But if he let just one leg dangle over the
side of the bed, he left himself vulnerable to any mystical demons that
theoretically resided under his bed.
The weather was mild. But under his
covers, he was sweating up a storm. He couldn’t turn the heat down. The
thermostat had been stuck on 75 degrees since the day before. It would take at
least a few days for a serviceman to come and repair it.
Oh, grow up, he thought. You’re
being ridiculous. This is real life, not a movie. Nothing’s going to happen if
you decide to kick off the covers or let your arm hang off the side of the bed.
But he couldn’t have been more
wrong.
He slipped one leg out from under
the covers and let it drape over the side of his bed.
In mere seconds, a cold, scaly hand
wrapped tightly around his ankle. Its ragged claws dug deep into his skin,
drawing massive blood and crushing the bones beneath.
He screeched as he was wrenched from
his bed and dragged underneath. One more bloodcurdling scream echoed through
his quiet neighborhood, loud enough to wake the dead. And the night was silent
again.
No comments:
Post a Comment