The Monster In The Closet
An exert of an unfinished novella because I couldn’t think of anything else 🙂
The three headed, six legged creature slowly crept out of the cupboard and inched towards the bed. Despite being covered in wiry black hair, visible veins could still be seen slowly pulsating below the surface of a bulbous beach ball sized body. Each gangly leg had two opposing knee joints located at different points and there appeared to be no knee caps. Each foot looked like that of a small horse yet none of them made more than a slight scuffing noise as they padded across the parquetry floor.
Its three heads ranged in size from that of a tennis ball to that of a basket ball and not one of them had a redeeming feature. Each of its twelve blue eyes appeared blood shot and only seconds away from exploding and there was a single flap of skin that moved up from the bottom of the eye ball that covered each eye, but the creature rarely seemed to blink. There appeared to be no distinguishable nose on any of the faces and the ears seemed to be nothing more than small black holes towards the rear of the head. An orange gelatinous goop dribbled downward from the left hand corner of all three mouths and jagged broken teeth could be seen each time a mouth was open, which was all the time.
That was the image that haunted my dreams when I was eleven years old, obviously the monster wasn’t real but try telling that to an eleven year old boy who woke up to the same image every night. When the dreams started I would often wake screaming, sometimes uncontrollably, my pyjamas would be drenched in sweat and my sheets would be strewn across the bed as if they’d be spat out of the washing machine and landed in a heap on top of the mattress.
To my parents credit they diligently ran in every night of the first year when they heard my harrowing screams but after twelve months even they stopped rushing in, and who could blame them, after twelve months it seemed like I wasn’t in any danger from my dream and more often than not I’d simply slip back off to sleep without even saying a word to them. That’s right, even at the age of eleven I knew that my bad dreams couldn’t hurt me, what I didn’t know was how to stop them.
My parents took me to doctors, doctors referred me to specialists, specialists referred me to hospitals, hospitals pushed me into sleep studies but nothing helped, the dreams would still arrive like clockwork every night between the hours of two and three am.
Now I know what you’re thinking, “why not just stay awake until after two am?” Well don’t you think I tried that? Of course I did, I tried it every night for the entire month of May. I sat up watching TV, I sat up listening to my iPod, I even sat up playing games on my computer in an effort to delay the sleeping process. I was literally daring myself to stay away but every night no matter how awake I felt at five minutes to two am I was asleep and dreaming immediately after the clock struck double zero.