The Monster Under the Bed

“I thought you had always told me that story was a fable.  A tale.  you told me monsters weren’t real.  Are you now telling me all my nightmares of the creature under my bed were REAL?”  If there was a way Miles could be whisper-yelling, he was doing it right now. 

“The truth is…  I never believed my grandfather when he said the monsters were actually a part of our family.  But he always started the story off as telling us “The Legend of the Home” and we always thought of it as something like “The Legend of Sleepy Hollow.”  Not a real story of our lineage.  Obviously.” 

I watched my aunt crawl through the doorway and realized the monster had finally come for her.  She had always been the nicest one in the family.  The most stable one.  The one that never lost her cool.  But here she was crawling on the dining room floor and speaking gibberish.  I tried not to get nervous on anxious about her because I knew by morning, she wouldn’t remember anything had happened.  I didn’t want to think the family monster ever inhabited my mind and body, but I knew it had.   

Part of the problem with the monster and the curse was the fact we could not talk about happened while it was with us, but we also could never forget everything that happened while watching someone else be inhabited by the monster.  I also knew it was my great uncle who put the curse on our family.  All because of one small and insignificant prank. 


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