Monsters (Under the Bed)

Zipporah Morningstar

Hide under the covers

Safe spot

No fear

Cuddle the bear

Don't cry out

There's nothing there

Shadows,

Cuz Daddy said so

But you can hear it

Nails scraping on the floor

Quiet breath smothered by mattress weight

Tell yourself its nothing,

Swear your mind is playing tricks on you

You've seen it,

Red and yellow eyes that glow in the dark

Sharks teeth gleaming in moonlight

Out side it's pouring rain

Splashing against your window in sheets

You smother a cry as lighting flashes bright,

And thunder rolls loud and low across the sky

That's just clouds rubbing,

Mommy told you

And Daddy nodded to agree

But a child's mind knows it for its truth

Lightning is the monster searching,

Its stomach screaming in hunger is thunder.

It's looking for you,

Just like the one below

And you know what they want,

You know

No matter what Daddy said,

Whatever Mommy promised

The monsters are real, looking for you.

Daddy looks under the bed and smiles

Rolling his eyes at Mommy

"Still nothing," He says

Patting your shoulder

"No monsters, no toys, just the floor."

He ruffles your hair and turns out the light

You know he's wrong

But it's not his fault.

In the light the Monster is gone

He hides away, needing gloom as you need air

But in the night he is there

And more

Darkness that goes on and on

A portal to his world

He lies in wait

Watching for your mistake

A dangling foot

A straying hand

He watches, and he waits

And one night when he sees his opportunity

He will strike

Seizing you and dragging you down

Pulling you under

Forcing you through his portal

And when he has you in his eerie world

You belong to him,

Your flesh and soul

And he will consume you

Every last bit,

And from his side there is no God, no pity

When you're gone you're trapped

Lost in the demon hell forever.

Daddy says its nothing

Mommy says its imagination

But you know better

It's evil, lurking beneath your bed

No matter what they say

You know.

You know…

Chapter One: Letters

There are many reasons I'm writing this story. The first is to tell my story, like every other one of my kind. Everyone has a story, most are interesting, and mine are one of those stories. I was reading a poem recently, by a lovely author named Zipporah Morningstar about monsters. Lovely poem, I must commend the author. I loved every moment of reading it, laughing almost psychotically. Zipporah, my great friend, good job. She's perfectly right, there are such thing as monsters. There are the things that live under your bed, in your closet, even those that seep out of your shadow. Those are the monsters little children fear. Those are the monsters that are and aren't in this story. If you're confused just read on. There are other monsters of course. Everyone has seen them, for they are everywhere. They blend in, and unless they happen to you or are reveled, you'd never know. You know whom I'm talking about. Rapists, pedophiles, necrophiliacs, beastialists. Then there are the murderers, the thieves, the slavers, and the wife beaters. I am a few of these. I am a monster.

I hear them in my head every night as I wake from my nightmares.

"MURDERER! MONSTER! JUST BURN IN HELL!"

That is real nightmare my friends. Life, Death, and sometimes… an unwanted rebirth.

I sat down my pen and looked over what I had written. It was fairly dark in my room, except the glow of the glass tube that held back the pool water from flooding the house. I sighed and closed my notebook. It was about three in the morning and until about three seconds ago, I had been thinking of a new idea of a story. I want to be an author you see. Throwing myself on my bed, I slowly fell asleep.

I woke to another morning and scramble out of the way as my two older brothers Jory and Kyle jump all over my bed, sword fighting with umbrellas. I rub my eyes and watch them, amused, for a second before heading into the bathroom. "Brothers," I muttered closing the door. I strip off my flannel pajamas and hop in the tub. I turn the knobs on the wall and cringe as the freezing water hits me. "It's for the best," I think, rubbing my face. "It sure does wake me up!"

The water slowly changed to warm and I quickly washed myself, treating my hair with green apple shampoo and sunflower conditioner. Shutting off the water, I wrung out my long hair and grabbed a towel and wrapped it around me. I open the mirror over my sink and pulled out my blow dryer, brush and makeup bag. I quickly towel-dried my hair, then began the long, arduous task of blow-drying, brushing and styling. Make up was next, but not too much!. Father and Mother had expressed their dislike in my interest at such a young age, but they had allowed me small privileges after my last birthday. Black liquid eyeliner, a bit of rouge, and touch of watermelon lip gloss. I rushed back into my room after seeing the clock and pushed my brothers out of the room. Quietly, I tiptoed past my sister's bed and opened my closet to survey the choices. For some reason, my sister could sleep through an epic umbrella fight, but the slightest noise from me would wake her in an instant.

Skyye moaned and threw back the covers. I flinched and readied myself for the yelling, but she got up and smiled sleepily. Letting out my breath, I smiled and offered a "Mornin'" before returning to my clothing choice. I settled for my black net shirt; which wasn't really netting, just the sleeves, which always seemed to twist weirdly. I look at myself in the full-length mirror and watch my sister stumble into the bathroom. Sighing, I pulled on a pair of faded blue jean shorts and a green tank top. I swept my blood-red hair into a ponytail and sigh again. It's not easy having hair that ends around your ass, but whatever, I like it.

I usually don't act like this, caring so much about what I look like. I find myself quite plain and that can't be helped, but for some reason, lately I feel like looking my best. I ignore my brother Kyle as he peeks into the room and mutters a comment at me, something about breakfast, before disappearing with one last lingering, albeit disgusted look. I know my family thinks I'm being contradictory, but it's really not that way at all. There are differences between me and the posers at school. I rant and rave about the posers, annoying my siblings to thoughts of murder, but I really hate fakes. Those idiots do it to be cool; to gain the acceptance of others so they're not beat up.

I dress this way because I feel like it. I like ankhs because they're cool and I like net sleeves, they let my arms breathe and swish in a cool way. I like my skater pants for the same reason. I hate things that are too tight; they make my claustrophobia kick in, not to mention I can't get good air on my board if my pants are too tight.

Yet, when any one of my siblings see me in clothes like this, I guess it confuses them. They think I switch too much, so they bad mouth me. Yes, one day I'll wear skater clothes, the next, fancy skirts and suit jackets and another I'll don on American clothes. I miss our trips to the States that we used to take, but I have to hand it to the selfish, arrogant gits, they do have nice clothes on occasion.

I hate it when my mind drifts to the family. I had been thinking about them for a while. My last name, Minuo, is different than my family, which is Addy. Dunno why, but my mother gave me her maiden name, I've been pondering that for a while now. At first sight we seemed a normal family, but once inside our little nest-like home, you find that we're not as perfect as we seem.

My father is the tallest in the family, then Kyle and Jory, then my mother and Skyye, and I'm the shortest. I'm also the youngest, so I'm sure that will change. The three of my siblings all look alike, making me the strange one. While the other three take after my dark-featured Father, I take the appearance of our mother. I got her long, blood-colored hair instead of Dad's black, and her emerald eyes rather than his chocolaty brown.

Jory takes after both my mother and father. He's slim, despite his muscled figure. I've run into him loads of times, he's harder than he looks. He has Dad's hair color and he keeps it about chin length, his fringe a little bit of it longer than the rest. To keep the long part out of his face, he clips it back. Normally, he's covered in dirt from the garden, but when he's not, he still smells of soil. He really lived up to the meaning of his name, Earth worker.

Skyye has my figure, or our mother's figure, but she takes after my father. She's taller than me by about five centimeters. Her thick, long, black hair she usually keeps in a thick mane about her face, making her look like she's come out of the wind at all times. Her dark eyes are framed by thin brows and usually match the constant slight scowl that occupy her lips. Not to say she's angry all the time, she isn't, it's just the look she gets when she's lost in thought.

Kyle was slighter than them, being younger than both, and didn't really stand out. He had one of those faces that could be lost in a crowd, plain spiky black hair, and when he does talk, normally the retorts are blunt, but accurate. He even wore dull colors, as not to draw attention to himself.

I opened my drawer and pulled out a pair of white socks, jerked them on, then slipped my feet into my big black skater shoes. I grab my backpack and head downstairs for some toast. I was buttering my last piece when Skkye walks in, nose in a book, as always.

"It good?" I ask.

"Nnn," she mutters.

"Good. Well I'm off, see ya later."

"Nnn," she muttered again, sitting and reaching for a slice of toast.

I walked out with wave to Kyle, who was spending about a half an hour in front of the mirror, combing his hair and making himself perfect. I ran into Jory as I was grabbing my skateboard, looking for something or other and managed to grunt out a farewell.

Whatever.

I pull open the door of our mansion you could call it, or if we were in France, a château or castle. Walking down the driveway, I wave to my best friend who's waiting patiently at the end of the drive. We usually walk to the school together, but with it being the start of summer, we had all day to hang out and play. "Hey Henry!" I shout, waving. He smiles and looks away, like always. Things will never change, or that's what I thought. But I'll get to that later.

I grinned and talked halfway there; the other half was spent showing off on my board. After Henry dropped me off at the school, he went on his way to his paper route job, saying he'd meet me again tomorrow. I went around and took the secret passage my friends and I had built two summers ago.

"Ah… it's Yo-sho! How you doin' girl? We thought you weren't comin, we've been here since sun up!"

I grinned and plopped down, tearing my backpack open. Chris always said my name like that, despite the many times I've told him how to say it, there's always that hitch in his voice. "Sorry guys, overslept. Okay, what's on schedule today?"

I grinned and flipped a can of silver spray paint. "Got ya. Meet at the club house at three. If you're followed, lose 'em or go home." I nodded to my girls and tore off down the street on my board. We made a pit stop off at the club house and then headed downtown.

Every Saturday, and now during the summer, my mates and I like to spray up the town. Few people knew it was us, and those that knew liked it enough to keep their mouths shut. Every other day we were peaceful, helpful and the public wouldn't even suspect. We always covered our tracks and always used our alias, The Silver Wolves. My uptown buddies and "rivals", lead by the ever-so-serious Tanner, were The Panthers. We used art as a form of territory marking. It was obviously liked, because it was never washed off or painted over. Our 'fights' every week were talked about and every police man was on the look out for someone to bust, but we never got caught.

"Alright," I said, when we got to our next target. "The Sweeney's shop has been grey and bland for the last five years. The only good thing about the outside of the bakery are the smells coming from inside. What should we do to this one? What haven't we done yet? What could make this building look presentable?" Yeah, that's right. We don't just spray paint, we help people sell things and and it makes us proud for their company.

"How about we paint the Sweeney woman holding a pie with a new logo?" Elizabeth offered.

Phoebe grinned and nodded. "Yeah, something like 'If you don't eat at Sweeney's, you might as well not eat.' How's that?"

"Great." I flipped my blue spray can, analyzing the picture in my head and going over Phoebe's suggestion. "Yeah, I like that. I'm on the picture, Phoebe, you do the words, Liz, be our lookout."

Four hours, two flash hidings and a cup of Earl Grey later I took out my silver paint pen and quickly sketched our wolf and my street name. Turning, I nodded to Liz as I passed her at the corner, Phoebe long finished and gone back to her family. I kept walking, knowing Liz would beat me to the club house, and I let her. "Lunar Bane and her infamous Silver Wolves have struck again," I muttered with a smirk on my face. I tossed my board ahead of me and skated off to the club house.

As expected, I I left at five and headed home. Coming up the driveway, I got the mail from the box and then the best thing happened. I noticed an owl sitting on our mailbox. It looked at me with a wise look and looked to the porch. I dashed up the path, and with a whoop of excitement, grabbed a letter lying in front of our door. I picked it up and examined it, quite forgetting the owl. The envelope was made out of some kind of parchment. My name was on it! In emerald green ink! I grinned, rushed inside, running around the house to find my brothers and sister. "GUYS!" I shouted after finding them in the Den, "I GOT IT!"

Jory and Kyle looked up from their mutterings in the corner quizzically, and Skyye looked up from her book as well.

I opened the envelope, read it through once to myself, then again aloud to make sure I read it right and wasn't dreaming.

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

Dear Miss Minuo,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on September 1st. We await your owl by no later than July 31.

Yours Sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall,
Deputy Headmistress

Jory grinned and gave me a big hug, squeezing the breath from my lungs. "Our baby sister's goin' to real school now! Though, can't say I'm too surprised. Remember when she was six? Zapped away the dog's mouth because it barked too much!"

Kyle laughed and shook his head. "Too bad I was at camp, I wish I could have seen that!"

Skyye smiled and went back to her book. "You didn't miss much. Dad realized the dog had stopped barking and looked up from the paper. It was over in a matter of minutes. Didn't stop it from wetting the floor every time our Yosho came near."

Kyle nodded, hugging me as I ducked my head in embarrassment. We had ended up having to give the dog away because of that. It was one of the many reasons my family was ill at ease with me. Jory coughed loudly, looking at our brother before he walked out the door, Kyle following quickly.

I rolled my eyes and allowed myself another giggle. The fun had lasted a couple of minutes, sure, but after that I had to scrub the kitchen for a week. It lasted forever. Yet, the excitement was mine alone. The others had been going to Hogwarts, and my parents had gone before them. It was only a matter of time before I went as well.

I waited until my mother got home and showed her the letter. She hugged me and started readying dinner.

"Are you excited? Giving up public school and going to a new school will be scary don't you think?"

I shook my head. "I'm not scared. I think it's gonna be fun. I've been looking forward to going since Kyle got his letter!"

"Good. Now Yosho darling, go to your room until your father gets home and we'll all talk about it together."

I obeyed, walked to my room and flopped down on my bed. I knew whenever anything involved my Father, it was going to be tricky for everyone. I waited what seemed like hours, dabbling with my story, humming to myself and even sketching out a few poor drawings before giving up and focusing on the ceiling. When my mother called all of us to dinner, I was anxious, but excited...

We ate in silence, like always. My Father was strict and didn't allow us to speak unless we were spoken to, only the adults would speak on even the best days. Yet, even my mother followed suit, refusing to speak, though she looked ready to burst.

My father looked at my mother, for a moment, judged her expression, then sighed. "So Erina, what's this news?"

Mother beamed at him. "Yoshomika has been accepted at Hogwarts! Also, it's getting late into the summer. It's about that time again and I think we should go to Diagon Alley soon. The sooner we shop, the more ready we'll be."

"Alright," he said nonchalantly, not even looking up from his salad. "We'll go tomorrow."

The news filled me with joy and I ate more happily, glancing at my siblings who all beamed at me in quick glances, before returning their attention to their plates. Another witch, the last and final child had been accepted! I had worried I might not get a letter, but the others assured me it was coming. One doesn't exhibit magical abilities and not get a letter, they insisted.

After dinner, I did the dishes without being asked, and without one complaint, even though I detested the job. I even caught myself humming and dancing around the kitchen to put the dishes away. When my chores were done, I went up to bed, making sure not to bother my sister who sat in her favorite chair, writing in her journal.

"You're a witch now," she murmured as I fell onto the bed.

"Yeah, I couldn't be happier." When she didn't answer, I rolled over and gave her a concerned look.

She was staring at me, her quill poised and almost to the paper. She looked concerned, her brow knit together and furrowed. "Things will be hard for you at school. With us being in different years, and Jory so close to graduation, and my OWLs coming up, we won't be able to help you."

I smiled and shrugged the best I could. "I will have to find my own way then. I just hope I'm in one of your houses... This family is all over the place, though not one of us has made Slytherin. I may be lucky and be put in Ravenclaw like you and Mom!"

Skyye chuckled and put her things away. "You'll be just fine, even if you do get put in Slytherin. You've always been headstrong, and independent, more so than the rest of us. Even though we know you'll be fine, we can't help but express our worry..." She paused, seeing my forehead crinkle in the light from the pool tube. "The boys haven't said anything yet?"

I shook my head, becoming confused and worried. "I didn't think Hogwarts was scary! I've heard wonderful things about it from you guys... What aren't you telling me?"

Skyye rose from her spot and came to climb into my bed with me. She hugged me close and sighed. "It's not Hogwarts I worry about, though you won't go with us at first and that's a little vexing. No, it's Father. Even we don't know why, but he hates you Yosho. All of us can tell, and we've tried not to say anything until we could figure it out..."

I didn't answer, though my nose stung, and my eyes filled with tears. "I know..." I whispered. "I've noticed for a long time. I hoped it wasn't true, that I was making things up... but if everyone knows, it's real."

She kissed my forehead and held me close, her nose in my hair. "We are family, so we stick together. We love you Yosho... even if we can't show it for fear of Father's wrath. We are going to distance ourselves from you for appearance sake, we've all decided. Until Father comes to his senses at least."

I nodded mutely, unable to say anything. So that's what they had been discussing before I came crashing in with my letter. Skyye held me as I cried silently, shaking in her arms, and she stroked my hair to soothe me until I lost consciousness.