There Are Monsters Under The Bed

I never sleep with my foot outside of the covers anymore. I no longer sleep in a bed with an open underneath. I do not sleep in the dark anymore, rarely ever did. I do not sleep with my foot hanging off the edge of the bed. I am careful about what I place above my head. I never sleep with a closet door open. There are no mirrors in my bedroom, when I was younger I couldn’t sleep until I had covered the mirror with a cloth, the same went for a tv screen, anything that had a reflection like a mirror. I feared seeing the faces in the mirror or that stuff could come through and drag me into it with them.

It is a night I will remember for the rest of my life. In the days leading up to it, I explained away sounds and things. I had taken down my waterbed and put up a small twin-size bed attempting to create a bigger space. What a mistake that would turn out to be. The first night in the bed I kept hearing the sound of stuff moving beneath the bed, I had stored things underneath. I convinced myself I had not placed them well and that they had fallen. So the next morning I cleaned up the mess and reorganized it carefully placing everything to where it wouldn’t fall and make a mess. That night I heard it again the scooting sounds, the sound of paper crinkling, rustling from beneath the bed. I explained it away, only to wake up and see not only had the stuff beneath the bed moved but it was strung around in a way that couldn’t happen on its own. I began to feel stressed, but to say that I hadn’t experienced serious activity in this room. on the regular would be a lie. The experiences I had in that house, in that room were things of horror films. Beyond what most embellished Hollywood haunted retellings we see.

The next night would stay with me for the rest of my life. Traumatizing me still to this day. I began to drift off and kept hearing the movement from beneath the bed, but refusing to acknowledge it. Then things got worse, I began to hear knocking from under the bed on the wall. I still refused to acknowledge it fully and tried to explain it away, it was loud, surely other people would hear it too. The knocking got harder, LOUDER. Giving me no other option than to hear it and know where it was coming from. The wall began to shake and vibrate with the hard knocks, still, I tried to sleep anyway thinking it would stop if I just kept ignoring it.

Finally, whatever it was had, had enough. I had fallen to sleep and the room was dark, no lamp which was unusual for me, I have never liked the darkness. The room was warmer than normal and I was burning up so I had kicked the blanket off one of my legs. My barefoot laying near the edge of the foot of the bed. The knocking hadn’t worked to scare me as intended so something much worse happened. I had drifted fully to sleep only to be awakened by having my foot grabbed and pulled very hard. It didn’t let go right away, fully awake now pulling my foot back I could feel the hand wrapped around my foot gripping it tightly, I could feel the shape and size of the fingers, the size of the hand the large knuckles, and the long claw-like nails.

This hand was not human, nothing close to it except only that it had five fingers. The fingers were so long with gnarly bulging knuckles. I didn’t scream out loud I was so scared I couldn’t make sound come out. I jumped up turning the light switch on, but the light slowly flickered in and out, in and out, and then pop the bulb blew. Panicking harder I reached over to the lamp, it was one of those touch lamps with dimmable bulbs, I grabbed the base frantically tapping to turn the bulb on, finally light.

Instead of running out of the room, I did something equally unexpected I sat in the center of my bed with my legs crossed defiantly and I said this is my room get out. I don’t know where that courage came from especially since I knew what I was up against something far bigger and stronger than I was. I didn’t budge, I also didn’t sleep, I sat there until the sun had come up. I got up having fought a battle one of light vs dark one of sheer willpower. I turned off the lamp and was unable to turn it back on again the bulb in it had blown too. My foot was visibly bruised from being grabbed so hard. I told my mom what had happened and she had heard the knocking but had explained it away.

That day I took down the twin-sized bed and put the waterbed back up, there was no place for anything to lurk beneath me, I slept with my feet covered from that day forward. I had other encounters after that but not quite as physical as that one. That room was my own nightmare. I was absolutely tormented by a presence there for years. There were many presences within the home, we all had our stories. I hate being in that house alone at dark still. It’s a supernatural highway, portals, and ley lines and who knows what else creating the perfect storm. My parents built that home, the land has so much to do with the activity and a house full of sensitives. I never realized just how much that wasn’t a part of people’s everyday life until I was older. I also thought it was strange to watch hauntings and be confused by the overall lack of activity in comparison. It took moving a few thousand miles away to realize it wasn’t necessarily the place, but me.

Published by izzysconfessions

I was born and raised in the smallest of towns in Southwest Virginia. A town that is extraordinarily active, yet a town that is like it's very own little mini Bible belt. My dad was Baptist, my mom pentecostal, and I'm paranormal. I would venture to say it is somewhat of a family trait. One that is met with equal acceptance and curiosity as much as it is met with skepticism. Individually and collectively so much has been experienced and witnessed at times to such a degree that one might wonder how on earth there is room for doubt. I dont have all the answers, I do not have it all figured out. Im as human as everyone else relying heavily many mornings on a lot of coffee and a little Jesus. In fact, I can't decide what I want for dinner most days. One constant is I cannot go a single day without chocolate. Pour a cup of coffee, or a little tea and whiskey and join me in my confessions of a haunted freak.

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