The monster under my bed

bilder 036There lives a monster under my bed.
It’s not particularly evil or, scary, you know, as monsters under your bed are used to be. No, this one is not evil, it does not scare me and most of the time it does not disturb me. Well… most of the time.
There are a few times, like, when I come home from school and I sit down to draw or play games, it laughs. Not a happy laugh. More like, a vague and shallow, hissing laugh. As if it looks at me, and pity me for the sole reason of me being me.
At other times, it talks. Not words that I understand, maybe in it’s own imaginary language, but in words I often repeat to myself when I’m all alone in the darkness if the night. I feel pretty annoyed when it talks, mostly because I don’t understand it, but also because it triggers weird emotions inside me just hearing it’s words.
What what annoys me the most though, and what is the reason I even care about this monster living under my bed, is when it, three in the morning, decides to make tea and bread for breakfast.
And the steam from it’s tea rises from underneath my bed, and it gets in my eyes and makes it hard to breath.
Aargh~ I wish I could just… *sigh* anyway.
Thank you, I’ll do something out this. Something…


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