Monsters In My Closet...

There are monsters in my closet. I can feel them watching me when I turn off the lights. I pull the covers up over my head and lay very still in the hopes that they might grow bored with me. I can hear them breathing, some with a low, deep raspy sound; others with a faint, high pitched wheeze that causes my blood to run cold. I can hear them whisper to each other, in hushed, guttural voices...more like animal grunts and growls than real words.

Every so often, one of these monsters will leave my closet; sometimes I can hear it coming. I hear its claws scraping the floor, a shuffle-type walk as it creeps across my bedroom. Sometimes, I am resting peacefully, unaware of the approaching creature.  And suddenly, I feel its cold, dank breath on my cheek. I clench my teeth, and keep my eyes firmly closed. Under my warm blanket, my body trembles with fear. I am paralyzed, afraid to move, afraid to breathe, afraid to see this nameless demon that haunts me. It feeds off my fear...consumes it... like a fire consumes dry tinder. I am its fuel.

I want to scream out, yell for help, but the words stay locked in my chest. I know that no one else can see my monsters. They can not fathom where these beasts come from; they are MINE. No one can kill them but me.

Sometimes, if I become very still and concentrate on what the monster is...if I actually open my eyes, and look, I can see it, this creature that crouches over me, that laughs at my cowardice. And when I REALLY see it, not just at a glance, but a REAL, DEEP look, I can see its true nature. I can name this beast. I don't have to say the name out loud, I need but think its name, and it flees from me and my knowledge. It retreats to my closet, licks its wounds, and lurks. And when it comes again -- yes it will come again -- it is weaker, it holds less terror, and I need but name it again, and it retreats. Then one day, it comes no more.