It was immediately after my birthday that I saw it for the first time.
I already knew that it was there, already had heard some strange noises, but was afraid to look. But now I was eight years old and was too grown up to be afraid. So, that night, when I heard one of those noises, I gathered all my bravery, leaned on the fringe of the mattress and looked. And two big yellow eyes looked back. I shouted and ran away. Entered my parents’ room, ran to their bed and got under the covers, between them. They were as scared as I was and when they asked me what had happened, I answered stuttering that there was a monster under my bed.
“What a silly thing…” said my father. “Aren’t you too grown up for that, son?” asked my mother.
I asked to no avail, they didn’t let me sleep with them. My father took me back to my bedroom, turned the light on and made me look under the bed: there was nothing there anymore. He kept saying that it had been only a nightmare, fault of these programs I see on TV, that monsters do not exist, etc.
After that, he said that I had to wake up early to go to school next day, kissed me goodnight, turned off the light and left, closing the door. I remained a good five minutes there, totally still, in complete silence. I turned over and was already thinking that my father was right and that all had been really a dream when I heard the noise of a toilette flush in the bathroom. Then, steps in the corridor, each time closer, until my door opened and closed again, and the steps became each time near towards my bed. I had no courage to turn around and look.
I felt a bump in the bed. The monster was back. It had only gone to the bathroom. I couldn’t look again under the bed. I stayed awake all night, listening to the strange noises it made. Next morning, I went to school sleeping on the bus and, during class, I was so sleepy.
I only woke up during Physical Education, when a ball was thrown in my face while playing at goalkeeper (at least, it wasn’t a goal).
I had no courage to tell anybody at school about the monster. I was sure that if I would tell it would be a big mockery. Certainly, if another boy would tell me such a thing, I would laugh a lot at his story.
In that afternoon, I went to the supermarket with my mother and once more I had a big itch to broach the subject.
She realized it and like mothers always, or almost always, know what we are thinking, she started asking that if I thought it was true there was a monster under my bed, the cleaning lady would have stumbled on it.
And, if she had stumble on it under my bed, the least she would do is to ask for a raise… I had to admit that it made sense. Imagine: the cleaning lady was scared stiff of a cockroach (just like my mother), if she had stumble with a monster while cleaning under my bed, she would scream for the whole building to hear it.
We dined without my father that night, since he worked until late that night. He arrived so tired that skipped dinner. He went straight to bed and when I went to say good night to him, he was already snoring. That reminded me the monster.
It was then, in that instant, that occurred to me why the cleaning lady had never seen the monster. It was more or less like my father: it was at home only during the night.
During the day, it went… well, I don’t know where it went during the day, but at night it came under my bed.
I decided to wait and see its arrival. It passed one hour, two hours…
I read all my comics twice, and the monster didn’t show up. I was falling asleep when I felt thirst. I went very slowly to the kitchen without turning a light on, not to awake my father and my mother. After sipping a rest of the mango juice that was left from dinner, I felt also a little appetite. Then… well, I knew it was wrong, that I shouldn’t, that my mother would not like it at all if she discovered it, but even so, I opened the cupboard and grabbed a package of biscuits stuffed with chocolate.
I went back to my bedroom very slowly. I jumped into bed, lighted my lamp and, trying not to make too much noise, opened the package. Then, very slowly and with great care not to let any tiny crumbs fall on the bed or on the floor, I started to devour the biscuits. After eating two or three biscuits I decided to open one in the middle to lick the filling. I believe I forced it too much, since the biscuit escaped from my hand and, after kicking on the board of my bed, fell to the floor.
