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Monsters Under My Bed by Tenzi Moscato

When I was a child, I feared, like most kids, that monsters lived under my bed. No sooner did my parents turn off the bedroom light and close the door when my anxiety crept up to take hold. I'd barricade myself with as many stuffed animals and dolls as would fit on the bed around me and wait with wide eyes for when the monster would slither out and get me.

Night after night, I'd wait, but no monster came out, but this didn't reassure me that it wasn't there. Rather I was convinced that this monster enjoyed taunting me and would wait until I was at my most vulnerable when I was fast asleep before it would pounce and at last slice me to bits. As I laid in my bed, squeezing the life out of my teddy bear, I'd think about what it was that I could do to keep the monster from wanting me dead when at last, it came to me. If I made friends with this monster, it would think I was cool and find someone else to torture since we were the same.

I'd talk to the monster under my bed, ask what it liked and what its name was. I'd tell it about the bullies from school that it would find more interesting than me since they were nasty and cruel and that they should eat them instead. The monster would answer me in my head, and before I knew it, I felt safe that my monster now kept watching over me while I slept. I became so comfortable with my dark friendship that I keep my monsters close and tell them about my enemies who could keep them well-fed. As I grew older, this connection never faded, and as more and more monsters showed up, I now talk to them all on the written page. The monsters and I still have great fun coming up with ideas of who to scare and watch them all run.


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