Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-5952769-20171126053731

Wednesday:

I just found out Mom wants us to stay a night at Grandma Grace's house during the trip. I'm not looking forward to it. The last time I slept there I had a horrible night.

Thursday:

I got some questions about the last entry. Sorry I didn't explain. I was vagueing a monster.

That's right, I thought I saw a monster the last time I was at Grandma Grace's house. I think I was 8? 10?

In the guest room I slept in there was a big heating grate under the bed. As soon as I saw it I started worrying about monsters coming through.

After Grandma put me to bed and turned off the lights and the whole house got quiet I heard the grate come off. Then I heard something slither out of the vent and squirm around under the bed. I wanted to look but I was too scared. I just leaned over and tried to peek.

I saw something! My eyes had adjusted enough I could see something like a smooth root from a tree sticking out under the bed. I got so scared I screamed.

A light or 2 came on and I heard footsteps. There was a quick slurping sound under the bed and the grate thunked into place. Grandma came in and asked what was the matter. I told her all about the monster.

"Oh really?" she said in that fake voice grown-ups do when they don't really believe you.

She looked under the bed and she didn't see anything. Of course she didn't.

She was polite but she talked to me like I was a dumb little kid. "Here's what I think happened," she said and so she explained that vents make can funny noises in the winter and little boys' imaginations can run out of control. She gently reminded me "There's no such thing as monsters."

So I had to go back to bed and the light had to go back off. Before long I heard it again. It was only a matter of time before I saw its feeler again. After the last time I couldn't scream for help again. I was all on my own.

I took refuge in the covers and tried to psych myself out. "Monsters aren't real.  I'm too old to believe in them.  I've got an overactive imagination.  Everything has a rational explanation." After a while I felt confident and mature and logical.

I pulled down the covers and I leaned over to look as far under the bed as possible without falling out of bed or putting my hand on the floor. I saw the shiny root again. It came further out this time. It was twitching.

I hid under the covers again and freaked out so bad I almost passed out from breathing too fast.

I think I remember the feeler moving toys around but I can't figure out where that fits in the story. Maybe there were 2 nights I saw the monster? Maybe the whole thing's just BS? I mean, I know that. I just expect it to make sense for some reason.

Anyway though, now that I was sure as my little mind could be that the monster was real I tried to talk to it.

"Leave me alone," I said.

"I will," a voice under the bed answered to my extreme surprise.

"Really?"

"You're not big enough.  Maybe next time."

Guess what? Saturday night will be next time!

I know, I know, it wasn't real. It was only a dream or a pedagogic hallucination or an overimaginative exaggeration of a weird but explainable phenomenon. I understand that but part of my mind can't be reasoned with. It's going to be a long night.

Friday:

You guys, this is really messing me up. Mom says I've actually stayed over at Grandma Grace's twice. The first time I was only 4 or 5.

It's coming back to me. I saw the monster that night too. I already thought there was a monster the other time because I saw it before. I remember hearing toys moving and looking down to see an octopus arm coming out from under the bed. I'd left some toys laying around and it was pulling them under then throwing them back out. It said I was too little then it went all the way under the bed. I didn't see it again.

Oh God I hope it's all dreams and false memories. It has to be. Obviously.

To answer Jaden's question, I don't remember what the monster's voice sounded like. It think it was just a regular grown-up's voice.

Tyler, I do not appreciate your cryptozoology links!

Saturday:

Here I am in the smaller guest bedroom at Grandma Grace's house. It's the same as I remember. Same furniture, same paint job, same slippery wooden floor with the big metal grate, same spinach-green shag rug, same motel-grade paintings of melons and bananas, same wretched homemade patchwork quilt and wretcheder homemade patchwork curtains. Everything's smaller than I remember but you could still fit a serial killer through that grate in the floor. I'm gonna sleep well tonight. (Sarcasm)

Saturday (Supplemental):

I'm going out of my mind! I really thought I really actually saw the monster under the bed. I saw a gleaming tentacle moving across the rug like a snake winding through the grass. I broke the screen on my phone trying to get a photo. I was moving too fast and shaking too much. I'm still shaking while I type this. I've got a superstitious fear this is gonna be the last thing I write. Of course I'm posting it on social media!

Gotta calm down and go to sleep. The only monster is the one inside me. Did that metaphor make sense? I'm tired.

Sunday:

I just woke up and I gotta tell you what happened. Spoiler alert: I didn't die.

I tried to fall asleep but before long I started hearing things and seeing things. I got the distinct impression there was a squishy slithery monster under the bed feeling around the floor and snaking its way up to where I was laying. I couldn't fall asleep. I got out of the covers and sat on the edge of the bed like a gargoyle. I was really worried until I decided I was really silly.

"It's not a monster," I told myself. "I'm a teenager.  In less than a year I'll be a high school graduate.  I can't keep seeing monsters under the bed." I stared at it the thing on the floor and refused to let the tricky lighting and my wild imagination fool me into thinking it was a monster. I kept staring as I reached over to the night stand and turned on the lamp.

Guess what? It was a monster.

Before I could react a tentacle shot out at me and a doughy mitten at the end sealed my mouth shut.

No, seriously. This f-ing happened!

I thought the monster's flesh would be cold and wet and nasty-smelling. It was warm like a person's skin. It was very smooth and felt like it had a thin oil coating but it was totally different from the slime I was expecting. Its complexion was half-way between Caucasian skin and polished gold. It had a strong smell I can best describe as pumpkin spice mixed with honeysuckle.

Of course I tried like hell to pull it off. It had some suction cups suckered to the skin around my mouth. That thing was inexorable!

Some other smooth squishy parts slithered and squirmed up into bed next to me. There were lumps and dips and protuberances and orifices and a bunch of different tentacles coming out of different parts like the roots of a screwed-up tree.

I tried to jump out of bed but there was already a fleshy cord tying me to it. I tried to fight the monster with my fists but my hands were tied before I could land a punch. It looked like I was screwed.

"Relax," I heard a strange woman say. I looked around as much as my head could turn but there was no one who could be talking. No one but the monster.

"There's nothing to be afraid of," she said next. Imagine a nurse talking to a patient or an art teacher talking to a student. That's about what it sounded like. Not like a pulpous tentacled horror that travels through vents and facehugs helpless humans.

I did relax. There was something calming about this monster. Crazy, I know.

When the monster was all the way in bed it put its weight on my legs and withdrew most of its arms. It kept holding my hands with its fleshy mittens and used the mitten on my face to gently push me backwards. My body wasn't tensed up anymore and I ended up laying down on the covers. It ungagged my mouth and rested the mitten on my chest.

"You can talk if you stay very quiet," the voice said. "I don't want to hurt you but I have a job to do and loud noises aren't allowed." I wasn't mistaken. This bean bag chair of flesh was doing the talking.

"What are you doing here?" I asked.

"I won't hurt you," the monster said as it used a thin tendril to crank the knob on the lamp. The answer didn't fit my question but that didn't seem to bother me. The room was dark and I was feeling sleepy.

The monster oozed forward to lay beside me. A feathery appendage crept across my face and coaxed my eyes closed. I could hear the squirting sounds of tentacles extending and I could feel them hugging me tenderly. You'd think I'd be terrified but I just wanted to go to relax in those soft warm arms.

"Are you really a monster?" I asked.

The last thing I remember before I drifted off was the answer. "Yes.  I'm a special kind of monster called a succubus."

So here I am the next morning typing on my tablet in Grandma's guest room. I'm healthy and unharmed but I feel totally awful. I've never been so saturated with guilt and dread.

How am I going explain the sticky quilt? 