You always hear stories about monsters under beds, terrorizing poor children until their parents have to calm them and assure them the monsters aren't real. That's what the parents think at least. They can't see through the magic that shrouds us. We hide under their children's beds and wait until they've gone to sleep before we creep out into the room. All monsters are different in what they take. If you've ever noticed something missing but have no idea where it could have gone a monster took it. Some take socks, others take stuffed animals, a few have been known to take pencils, I take souls. I hide under the child's bed as they call for their parents. When their parent peeks under the bed they don't see my silver scales, or my bright blue eyes, or my huge pointy teeth, they just see ordinary mess and dust, what they expect to see. They dismiss it and tell the child to go to sleep but the minute the child's eyes are shut and their breathing slows I emerge from underneath the bed. Slowly, I rise to my full height, towering over the child. I bend over until my lips are inches from theirs and I drink their soul. I never take the whole thing, just enough to sustain me, and the child would never know. The next morning when the child wakes up their parents notice them acting strangely but just put it off as them growing. After five nights of this, the child has become a shell of themselves with hardly enough of their soul left to survive. I always leave then, let the child live, sometimes their souls grow back sometimes they live the rest of their lives like that it's not my problem either way, I've already moved on to the next.