a small collection of short short stories

Under the Bed

I wish I never had any friends. They just hurt me and make me cry.

I've always feared monsters in my closet or under my bed at night, but I never thought I'd see them during the day, let alone call them my friends.

But I can't talk to my mom, she wouldn't get it. So, sleep will be my comfort. I guess.

I crawled into bed after saying goodnight to my parents, who were watching TV, and read myself a story. But the story made me sad because even the boy in the book had a dog. At least the dog would listen to him. I was over the story.

When I sleep, I get many dreams. Some are scary but some are good. Most of them are unimportant and I forget them by breakfast. The good ones fade away in my memory, but the scary ones, live on, and on, and on.

When I fell asleep tonight, I woke up to the feeling of falling. I rushed out of the house because I was running late, and I still had to meet my friends at the bus stop. But when I got there, they were whispering. And when they saw me, they started laughing and mumbling names to each other. I heard Andrew, my friend since day care, call me a name. It was faint enough for me to hear and I got mad. So mad that I tried to punch him, but then...

I woke up.

My head was fuzzy, and my heart hurt, but my hand felt cold. My right hand, which I was about to punch Andrew with, felt much, much warmer than my left hand, and it had fallen off the bed.

It felt as if some other worldly being had been there for me. holding my hand. Comforting me in my vulnerable moment and feeling for me. That made me feel less alone, even if it was a monster. Because if friends can turn into monsters, why can't monsters turn into friends?