Monsters Under the Bed

Eight-year-old Charlie had always been a brave child—or at least she thought so. She never flinched when her older brother, Nick, leapt out from behind doors to scare her. She climbed the tallest trees in their backyard and even dared to squish spiders with her bare hand. But there was one thing Charlie couldn’t face: the gap beneath her bed.

By day, her bedroom was a cheerful, sunlit haven filled with stuffed animals, books, and a rainbow of fairy lights strung along the walls. But when night fell, shadows crept in, and the space beneath her bed transformed into a dark void, silent and waiting. Charlie was certain something lived there.

She hadn’t told anyone—not Nick, not her parents, not even her best friend, Jess. Who would believe her? It sounded ridiculous, even to herself. Monsters under the bed were the stuff of bedtime stories, not real life. Yet every night, as the world grew quiet and her house settled into sleep, she could feel them. Watching. Listening.

One rainy Thursday, after an unusually loud thunderclap startled her awake, Charlie lay frozen in bed. Her bedside clock blinked 2:13 a.m. in glaring red numbers. She pulled the covers up to her nose, her heart pounding. The storm outside made the shadows in her room ripple and dance, and she imagined claws and teeth lurking just out of sight.

Thump.

The noise came from below her bed. Charlie squeezed her eyes shut, her mind racing. Maybe it was a stray sock falling off the edge. Or a toy. Or—no, she couldn’t think about that.

Scrrrch.

This sound was different, like nails dragging against wood. Her breath hitched. Whatever it was, it wasn’t imaginary. Slowly, ever so slowly, she shifted her blanket aside and reached for the flashlight on her nightstand. Her hand trembled as she clicked it on, casting a bright beam across the floor.

“Hello?” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the rain.

No answer. Just the quiet, heavy sound of her own breathing.

Gathering every ounce of courage, Charlie leaned over the edge of her bed and aimed the flashlight underneath. The beam sliced through the darkness, revealing nothing but a tumble of dust bunnies, forgotten socks, and—

Blink.

Charlie gasped. A pair of yellow eyes gleamed in the beam of light. They stared back at her, unblinking. She jerked upright, her flashlight tumbling to the floor.

A low, deep voice rose from the depths. “You…dropped something.”

Charlie’s scream caught in her throat. The voice was hoarse, like gravel grinding together, but it didn’t sound entirely unfriendly. It sounded tired.

“Who’s there?” she demanded, her voice trembling. “I-I’ll call my dad!”

The yellow eyes blinked again. “No need for that. I’m not here to hurt you. I’m…stuck.”

“Stuck?” Charlie repeated, confusion momentarily replacing her fear.

“Yes. I’ve been here for ages, you see,” the voice continued. “Could you—perhaps—help me out?”

Charlie hesitated. This wasn’t what she had expected. “Why are you under my bed?”

A sigh echoed from below. “Where else would I go? Beds are the best hiding places, aren’t they? But your bed…well, it’s rather low to the ground. I didn’t think it through.”

The absurdity of the situation almost made Charlie laugh, but she caught herself. “What…what are you?”

“I’m a shadowling,” the voice said simply. “Not a monster, if that’s what you’re thinking. We’re more like… caretakers of the dark. We keep it tidy, make sure it doesn’t spill over into your world too much. But your bedframe’s been a bit of a bother.”

Charlie frowned. “You mean you’ve been stuck under there this whole time?”

“Quite,” the shadowling replied. “And I would very much appreciate it if you’d help me out.”

Charlie wasn’t sure what to think. On one hand, this creature might be tricking her. On the other, it didn’t seem threatening. Besides, it had been stuck under her bed for who-knew-how-long. Surely, it couldn’t be that dangerous.

“What do I have to do?” she asked cautiously.

The yellow eyes blinked, and the voice grew hopeful. “Just lift the blanket on the other side. There’s a gap big enough for me to squeeze through if I wiggle a bit.”

Charlie chewed her lip, debating. Finally, she decided to take the chance. She slid off her bed and circled around to the far side, flashlight in hand. With a deep breath, she lifted the blanket.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then, with a groan of effort, something began to emerge. A clawed hand, black as ink, gripped the edge of the bed frame. Slowly, a lanky figure crawled out, its limbs too long and its body too thin, as if it had been stretched like taffy.

The shadowling stood upright and dusted itself off, its form shifting and flickering like smoke. It was both there and not there, its outline rippling as though it were made of shadows stitched together. Its eyes—those piercing yellow eyes—were the only solid thing about it.

“Ah, much better,” it said, flexing its spindly fingers. “Thank you, child.”

Charlie took a step back, gripping her flashlight tightly. “Are you…going to leave now?”

The shadowling tilted its head. “Eventually. But first, I owe you a favour.”

“A favour?”

“Yes. Shadowlings are bound by gratitude. You helped me, so I must help you in return. Is there something you fear? Something I can take care of?”

Charlie thought for a moment. “Well… I’m scared of what’s under the bed.”

The shadowling blinked, then chuckled—a deep, raspy sound. “That’s ironic. But you won’t need to worry about that anymore. I’ll make sure nothing else takes up residence there. It’s my domain now.”

Relief washed over Charlie, but curiosity bubbled up alongside it. “Why are you so nice? Aren’t shadowlings supposed to be… I don’t know, scary?”

The creature shrugged, its form rippling. “Only if we’re provoked. Most of us just want to do our job and keep to ourselves. It’s not our fault humans are frightened of us. Darkness is misunderstood, you see. It’s not evil—it’s just… the other side of light.”

Charlie considered this, nodding slowly. “I guess that makes sense.”

The shadowling crouched low, its eyes glinting. “You’re braver than most, Charlie. If you ever need me, just call my name.”

“But I don’t know your name,” Charlie pointed out.

The shadowling’s eyes gleamed brighter. “Names have power. If I told you mine, it would bind me to you forever. Let’s just keep it simple—call me Shade.”

“Shade,” Charlie repeated.

The shadowling nodded, then melted into the floor, disappearing like smoke dissipating into the air.

From that night on, Charlie slept soundly, no longer afraid of the darkness beneath her bed. True to its word, Shade kept the space clear of anything sinister.

Occasionally, when Charlie stayed up too late reading or doodling in her notebook, she thought she saw a flicker of yellow eyes watching from the shadows. She would smile, knowing Shade was still there, quietly keeping her safe.

And though Charlie grew up and eventually outgrew her fear of the dark, she never forgot the shadowling who had taught her that sometimes, even the scariest things can be kind.