Monster Under the Bed

The monster moved in under Alex’s bed on a Tuesday evening in late Spring. Coincidentally, it happened to be the same day she had an argument at dinner with her parents about getting a pet.

“But why can’t I have a dog?” she asked, frowning at her dinner plate, which sat stoically on the table and refused to take part in the conversation. Her peas and carrots took a different tack and began taunting the roast beef.

“Because it is too much work,” her father replied over the paper he was reading. “With school and your chores, not to mention your harpsichord lessons, you don’t have time to care for a puppy. All too soon it will grow into a dog and become a burden to you.”

Her father rarely changed his mind, but she decided to try anyway.

“But I won’t let it become a burden. I’ll walk it every day, and feed it, and brush it, and teach it good manners.” She scowled at her dinner, which scowled back and began a rousing game of blinkers and blinders.

“Your father is right,” said her mom, who generally took his side in these things. Her mom chided the vegetables for misbehaving and corralled the bread which threatened to roll away. “We have little enough room. A dog would be too much for our small house.”

“You are correct, my love,” said her father. “Besides, we can’t afford the cost right now. I’m sorry, Alex.” He turned a page and lifted his newspaper in front of his face, his preferred way of putting a conversation to rest.

Alex finished her meal, which gave the customary screams of terror with each mouthful, but she took no joy in their games and placed her fork carefully upon the chipped blue plate when she swallowed the last morsel.

“May I be excused?”

Her mother smiled gently and nodded.

“I’ll come up soon to tuck you in,” Papa said, still reading his paper.

Alex carried her plate to the sink and rinsed it before retiring to her bedroom. Two mice peered at her from the crack at the base of the stairs, but she hadn’t brought a crumb with which to gift them. She passed them by with a sad look. They slipped into the darkened recess of their home with squeaks of disappointment.

Her room was tidy and clean, though small. Her bed was a lazy bone and spent most of its time snoring against the wall. She’d almost outgrown it now she was twelve, but they had little money to buy a new one. On the chest at its foot sat her old Holly dolly, who smiled and waved cheerfully. Alex felt anything but cheerful. She took her nightgown from the top drawer and changed out of her school uniform.

She finished her homework and, feeling tired, decided to go to sleep rather than waiting for her papa to come read. As she stood next to the door with her finger on the light switch, she noticed something different. The darkness that grabbed for her legs when she turned out the light and jumped into bed seemed darker still this evening. It snuck out into the light, then withdrew back beneath the white bed skirt to roil and boil like a bubbling pot of stew. She heard the snuffling of some creature and the scrape of many nails drawn across the wooden floors.

“Mama’s not going to like it if you scratch up the floor,” she said, and bent down to peer under the bed in the hope of seeing what it was. All she could see was its inky darkness. But she felt its voice shake the floorboards when it spoke.

“Well send her up and I’ll eat her, too,” said the monster under the bed, in a voice which sounded to Alex as if it were the growl of distant thunder.

Alex was delighted. None of her friends had ever had a monster under their bed, not that she had known. Matilda had a pixie, kept in a pretty glass bell jar she liked to shake from time to time. Alex thought the pixie was more likely to be annoyed by that than enjoy it, but Matilda had lots of nice things and Alex enjoyed visiting her handsome home, so she held her tongue. Daphne claimed to have a monster in the closet, but as it never made appearances when school friends visited, no one but Alex believed her. Daphne said it was shy.

“Do you have a name?” she asked the darkness below her mattress.

“I have no name, but a name I must have and you must pick one that suits me. Once you name me, I’ll come out and we’ll play. I promise not to eat you.”

“If you eat me, we won’t be able to talk. Is your name Percy?”

The monster chuckled. “No respectable monster would ever be named Percy.”

“Is it Chuck? Or Franklin?”

“What makes you think I’m a boy monster?”

Alex had read plenty of stories about monsters and knew how to flatter one. “Well, your voice is ever so deep and scary; you must be a boy.”

The monster rumbled in a pleased way, and the darkness shrank back under the edge of her bed. “Come talk to me,” it said. Alex hopped into bed, taking care to lift her ankles in the expected manner.

He hid when her father came to read to her and tuck her in, leaving with a kiss on her forehead. “I love you, poppet,” he said as he turned out the light.

“Love you, Papa.”

Once he was gone, she and the monster talked late into the night about Alex’s favorite things, such as math and ice skating and collecting fairy dust to use as a glitter substitute. They talked about the monster’s home and his friends and the best methods for sharpening teeth and claws. They talked until Alex’s eyes grew heavy and the sandman stole into her room, dusting her lightly with his sprinkles and hushing the monster with a finger pressed to his lips.

###

Her father wasn’t happy the next morning when Alex told her parents about her new friend. “Why did you invite him into the house?”

“I didn’t ask the monster to move in under my bed,” Alex said. “But now that he’s here, he wants to stay.”

Her father sighed and cast a look at her mother. “What do you think?”

“Alex, you know this isn’t a good time for this. Your dad has a lot to worry about at work, what with all the layoffs.”

A large sausage danced madly on the plate when Alex attempted to spear it, and two boiled eggs tired from a night of vexing and hexing jumped on her fork to be eaten.

“I’m sorry, Papa,” she said, though in fact she wasn’t really.

“Well, tonight I’ll talk to this monster and we’ll clear up this matter once and for all. Now eat, and I’ll drop you off on my way to work.”

Alex waited for the two of them to look away, and coaxed the sausage into her pocket. When she finished eating, she took it upstairs and rolled it under the bed. The sausage screamed in mock terror in the most delightful way as the monster ate it down.

###

Marietta didn’t believe her when she told the story of the monster under her bed.

“You’re making it up,” she said, crossing her arms and glaring. “Just like Daphne.”

“I am not. He’s a wonderful monster with sharp claws and a deep voice. Come over this Saturday and I’ll show you.”

Marietta glared a little less. “You never have sleepovers.”

“Mama says I can’t have people over, but now she’ll have to let me because everyone will want to see the monster.”

When the end of day bell rang, Alex ran all the way home and raced up to her bedroom.

“I’ve decided your name is Einarr.” She said this firmly, for she had thought hard during her morning walk, tossing aside first one choice then the next. William was traded for Smitherson, then Branson changed to Uriah. None of the names had suited until she remembered the name Einarr.

He purred and the floor rumbled, and she knew he was content. Einarr became his name.

###

“No, you may not have a sleepover,” father said as she sat at the table doing her homework. The pencil squirmed in her fingers and refused to get the lead out until she shook it. Mother stood watching, gently correcting when Alex misspelled pixie or constitution.

“You never let me do anything fun.” Alex slammed her book closed and raced from the room, climbing the stairs by twos as the mice watched from their little doorstep. She slammed her door closed for extra emphasis.

Einarr rumbled under the bed. “What’s wrong, my silly girl?” The bed woke and grumbled, pulling the blanket higher to cover its head board.

“My papa never lets me have company.”

“Let me talk to him, for I know the way of parents and perhaps I can convince him to let your friends come over and play,” Einarr said.

“He did say he wished to speak with you,” she replied, and she ran back down the stairs, which squeaked loudly in protest at the thumping.

“Papa, didn’t you wish to speak to Einarr?”

“Who is Einarr?” her father asked, looking up from his paper.

“The monster under my bed.”

“Ah, yes. Well, it is time we resolved this matter.” He folded the paper, placed it on the table, and followed her up the stairs, pausing to straighten his tie. When he entered her room, he stood by the door and watched the bubbling blackness of Einarr as he peered from below the bedsheets.

“You did not ask permission to live here,” Papa said, crossing his arms and giving the darkness his best You Must Behave Now or There Will Be Spankings look.

“I have been named,” said Einarr in his rumbling, deep voice, which no longer sounded like the roll of distant thunder but more like a roll of drums. Holly dolly jumped down to the floor, opened the chest and climbed inside with a whimper.

“This is my home, and Alex is my daughter.”

“Come closer so that we may be introduced,” said Einarr.

Papa stepped to the side of the bed and knelt on the floor, peering under it. “My name is Mr. William Percy Donahue. And who are you?”

The darkness filled the room, and Alex could not see for a few moments, though she heard the sound of voices in conversation, the rumble of Einarr and the lighter lilt of her father with the way he rolled his r’s. When the monster flowed back under the bed, her father stood up, his face red.

“You may keep your friend for now,” he said, patting her on the head. “And you may have your sleepover if you wish.” He did not look at her as he left the room.

Alex stooped and peered under the wooden slats. “Einarr, what did you say?” she asked. He did not reply. The darkness was simply the darkness, as it always had been, with lumpy shapes of toys and clothes she had kicked beneath the bed when she cleaned.

She put on her night clothing and climbed into bed, worried. Though she lay there for long minutes wondering what they had said, sleep found her a willing companion and took her for a long walk down the path of dream, where she saw many strange and wonderful things, though none so fine as the monster that lived beneath her bed.

The sandman passed by her window that night with a smile, his services not needed.

###

For many days, Einarr did not speak, nor did the darkness beneath the bed become anything more than the usual darkness. The darkness that gave her brief frights before bedtime by clutching at her slender white ankles. Holly dolly returned to her place upon the chest, and the bed once more snored comfortably in the corner, dreaming of a bedroom heaven with cool sheets and fluffy pillows.

Her father became cheerful, even playful. For as long as she could remember, he had been a Serious Man who believed in Serious Things, only smiling when he read to her at night. Now he stopped reading the paper at meals and talked to mother and Alex more, asking them about their days as he spread butter upon his rolls. The knife made its silly “sisssss, sisssss,” sounds as he waved it over the warm bread.

“And how was school today, my dear?” father asked, taking a big mouthful of the meal and chewing as he listened to her recite the daily lessons and the fun they had during playtime.

“That is good, dear,” said Mama, ladling stew into her bowl. The napkins folded themselves into creatures next to her silverware, becoming elephants and kittens and unicorns.

“Are you ready for your sleepover?” asked her father. He slurped the last of his meal from his bowl. Alexander could not remember him slurping his food, though she remembered how many times he told her not to.

“Yes, Papa,” she replied. “May I be excused now?”

“Of course, my dear,” he said. She scurried up to her room, dropping a fat carrot for the mice by the stairway, who chittered happily as they tried to stuff it through their crack of a door.

But Einarr still would not come when she knelt by the bed looking beneath it. There were dust balls and hairballs and toy balls and air balls, but no monster with his rumbling voice and stories of trolls and dragons and lands far away.

That night, she lay in bed, and tears slipped down her cheeks. Holly dolly climbed up next to her and snuggled into the crook of her arm as she fell into her dreams.

 When the night of the sleepover arrived, both Marietta and Daphne came. They were polite to her mother, and they smiled when her father made funny faces at the three of them during dinner, whenever he thought mother wasn’t looking.

When they were excused to Alex’s room, they tried everything to coax Einarr out of the darkness. They left little bits of candy for him on the floor, and played his favorite songs on Alex’s music box. They dangled their ankles enticingly over the edge of the bed and made squealing noises as though they had been grabbed.

“There is no monster,” Marietta said, crossing her arms.

“I have one in my closet, but he’s shy,” said Daphne with a sad smile. “Maybe your monster is, too,” she added diplomatically.

Alex did not know. She worried more and more about Einarr. Her friends tucked themselves into the cots that Papa had set up for them and drifted off to slumber under warm blankets, but Alex lay awake again.

When the sandman came, they talked for a while, but he only wanted to talk about cotton candy and marshmallows, not about monsters and magic and dark things under the bed.

“Do you think Papa is gone?” she asked him, trying not to yawn so he wouldn’t dust her face with his magic powder.

He shrugged. “People come and go in our lives. The only constant from beginning to end is ourselves.”

“But he’s my papa.”

“And I’m sure he loves you very much,” said the sandman, gently pushing her into her bed and pulling the covers up to her chin. “But I always find a good night’s rest helps things seem brighter in the morning.”

###

In the morning, things seemed no brighter to Alex. Her father decided not to go to work and happily chased the dish as it ran away with the spoon, sliding across the kitchen floor on his stocking feet as the place settings giggled with delight. Mother was nowhere to be seen, and when Alex asked father, he only shrugged and said: “She mentioned something about needing to stop by the store.” He ran off in search of the cow that jumped over the moon and she trudged off to school.

Daphne listened to Alex on the playground.

“He is acting so funny, and he’s playful now.”

Daphne pursed her lips as she tugged on one of her golden locks. “But you always said your Papa was too Serious,” she said. “He sounds wonderful now.”

“But he’s my papa,” Alex said, crossing her arms. “He’s not wonderful. He’s serious and quiet and he sighs a lot, but he loves me and smiles when he reads to me at night, and he’s the only one I have.”

“We could talk to my Nonna,” Daphne said. “She knows about stuff like this. She’s the one who helped me find a monster for my closet. He’s shy.”

After school, they went to Daphne’s home. Daphne’s Nonna sat in the kitchen, a wrinkled old woman who smiled kindly at them as she wiped her hands on her apron. “My sweet granddaughter,” she said, holding out her hands until Daphne took them and leaned forward for a kiss on her cheek. “And Alex. So good to see you, dear.”

“Alex has a monster under her bed,” Daphne said.

“Had,” Alex corrected. “And now he’s gone. And I think he did something to my papa. And my mama.”

Nonna made a tsking noise and stood, unbending like a twig. “Monsters can be wonderful friends, but they have to be made to obey.” She reached above the stove where a pot of potatoes boiled and pulled a book off a dusty shelf. She held it out until Alex took it.

Alex found she could not open the cover. “I don’t understand.”

“You must hit the books of course,” Nonna said, and laughed. She rapped it once with her knuckles and the cover flipped open. The pages were blank.

“What now?” Alex asked.

“Ask it your question, dear,” Nonna said. She placed a hand on Alex’s shoulder. “Ask it true and it will answer for you.”

“How do I get Papa and Mama back?”

Ink spilled across the page, filling it with words. It is much to be named the words began.

Nonna reached over Alex’s shoulder and plucked the page from the book before she could read any more. She took the book, closing the cover with a snap. Last, she folded the page and handed it to Alex. “You’ve taken a page from the book. You know the answer now. Go on home and find your parents.”

###

She walked home slowly, thinking of her parents and Einarr. She’d placed the page in her pocket. When she walked through the front door, she saw father juggling three cats, who purred and meowed as they flew in circles.

“Ah, my poppet, how was your day?” he said, gently placing the cats upon the floor. He walked over to her to kiss her forehead. His eyes sparkled like dew drops on a leaf. She heard the sound of distant thunder in his voice.

“I want Papa back,” she said, too softly for him to hear.

“What was that, my child?”

She crossed her arms. “I want my father back.”

He shook his head. “Now Alex, that’s no way to talk to me.”

“He’s my father, and he’s the only one I ever had. He tucked me in at night, and read me stories of princesses and how the moon smiled down on the world. You’re not him. You sent him away and took his place.”

“Don’t you like things better this way?” he asked, his frown growing deeper. She thought she saw sadness in his eyes, and she doubted herself for a moment, not wanting to hurt her friend.

“I liked things the way they were. I love you both. Einarr, you must bring him back.”

“No.” His face broke into a smile and he spun in a quick circle. “I like things the way they are now, my poppet. I will never go back.”

The mice watched from the steps. So did the dish and the spoon, who held hands in the dish drainer. Holly dolly came to the top of the stairs and peered down at Alex as their voices rose.

“Where’s Mama?”

“She’s gone away. She didn’t want to be here with you and said you were a terrible child who didn’t want better things. I am sorry to say she was right, Alex, so perhaps it is time we sent you away as well.”

He reached for her, and Alex ducked under his arms. She darted into the kitchen and around the table, keeping a careful eye on him as he tried to catch her. But he was old and slow in the body of her father, not the quick monster under the bed, and she slipped away like foggy mist on a summer morning.

“This is bad behavior, daughter of mine,” he said, lunging again.

“I’m not your daughter!” She ran from the room, pelting up the stairs past the little mice, who squeaked in alarm and ran into their home. She heard the slower pounding of his footsteps rising the stairs behind her and she hurried into her room, slamming the door shut. The bed shivered with fright at the hullabaloo, and in a panic, she slid beneath it.

The door shivered from a blow and crashed open with a bang that made the bed rock in terror. “Now, that’s enough of that running,” he said. She felt hands reaching for her, pulling her out. He loomed over her, grabbing her off the floor.

She yanked the paper from her pocket and pressed it against his face. “I don’t want you anymore,” she yelled as he hugged her tighter and tighter. “I take back your name! You’re just a monster under the bed, you’re not my dad. His name is Mr. William Percy Donahue! Give me my father and mother back!”

The room went as black as a night with no moon and no stars and no streets with electric lights twinkling merrily to show the way. She felt the hot breath of the monster against her cheek and heard the sound of its growl, the distant rumble of thunder as though clouds hovered below the horizon, out of sight but close enough she could taste the tang of their dampness upon the air.

Then the lights returned and she was in her bedroom, and her father was hugging her more tightly than he ever had, his cheek pressed to hers. Her mother stood there as well, her arms wrapped around both of them, and she cried, which made Alex cry, and then father cried, too.

A darkness crept out from under the bed. Not the kind that teased little girls by trying to grab their delicate ankles, but the other kind that rumbled and growled. She gave it a dirty look and it scuttled back beneath the mattress skirt and was gone, and she no longer had a monster under the bed to call her friend.

Her mother and father got her a puppy the next week. When father brought it home, he looked at her, scowling. He handed her a leash and a brush, with a very serious expression, but he couldn’t hold the scowl, which blossomed into a smile. “Well, there are worse things in the world than you having a puppy.” Then he knelt and gave her a hug. “What will you name it?”

“Percy,” she said at once, and kissed his cheek.