Writing Prompt

Have you ever wondered where socks go? How you can put two away and only find one a while later? I have this vague memory from my childhood of someone telling me of a monster. A monster that steals socks. I know there was more too it but I can’t remember now. I’m not even sure if the memory was real or just a childhood fantasy. Either way I don’t believe in monsters. At least not the ones describe...

A messy room is the best place to hide. One where you can pick them up without them realizing it. One where you can stay a secret for a long while. Waiting for the moment. Waiting for the cue.

As soon as thoses curious, wide-eyes lean over the bedframe is when you snap. When you pull.

You refuel.

It gives you something you can’t keep.

So you do it again.

And again.

A mere legend, a fear that’s ne...

Two glowing red eyes peered out from beneath the bed. They watched as two kids ran around the small bedroom, toys in hand, pretending they were airplane pilots. Narrowing, the red eyes glowered until a voice called for the kids from outside the room.

Dropping their toys, both children giggled and ran out of the room. They seemed blissfully unaware of the eyes watching their every move. The instan...

In the quiet town of Windhollow, children whispered about the Bedfolk, the monsters who lived beneath their beds. No adult ever believed them, of course, but every child in town knew that once the lights went out, the Bedfolk stirred, shifting shadows beneath creaking springs and dark bedskirts.

The Bedfolk were clever in their mischief. Some nights, they would pluck single socks from pairs, leav...

Stories tale of a beast with a thousand mouths. Each greedier and hungrier than the next. At least that's how the tale's used to go. Nowadays, they're called the under-folk. In the early 90's scientists discovered that under the right conditions a wormhole would temporarily breach the surface of reality under children's beds. The exact conditions are still under investigation, but generally, they ...

I curl up in that little space, trying to keep my breathing quiet. My heart is going so fast I shake with it. Surely everyone can hear it? I watch the feet shuffling around my room. She walks away.

There is a monster under my bed, I think. One that makes me invisible even in the brightest colours and silent even if I scream my loudest.

It muffles the outside world to me and blinds it too. I thin...

Don’t check under the bed

It’s there. It’s there.

It’s watching you sleep

Don’t dare. Don’t dare.

Then morning comes

It’s fine. It’s fine

Just missing laundry

It dines. It dines.

Just thread remains

How sad. How sad.

I loved those socks

Made mad. Made mad.

So today I vowed

It’ll pay. It’ll pay.

Tonight’s the night

Post-day. Post-day.

The clock struck twelve

I’ll check. I’ll check.

With flashli...

Roman Valois’ mother would often tell him stories of these “monsters.” Though, she much preferred to call them The Hungry.

The Hungry liked to feast on souls. Their favorites were young, fresh, and fit.

They form from strong emotions. Hatred, envy, fear, depression, etc. If the emotion grew strong enough The Hungry would be born.

They seep through the cracks of your wooden floorboards until the...

Monsters hide under beds,

Monsters hide behind closets,

Monsters hide behind shadows,

And even behind windows.

They hide to steal,

Socks or pants,

Waiting for the chance

Where you can’t even outran.

They are hungry,

For innocent dreams and souls.

And they’ll never stop,

Till they achieve their goal....

You’ve heard of those monsters. The kind that lurk in darkness, under your bed. Unseen and unknown. You might be missing a sock, and your mother tells you it was the monster that lives down there. “Don’t be messy!” She says. “Or else the monster will get you!” You cry and be good, cleaning and doing your laundry. You peek under your bed at nighttime and sigh relief when to unsee that there’s only ...