Chompy (ONC 2021)

~1~

Tap. Tap. Tap.

There it was again. Like any other kid would, I covered my head with my comforter and squeezed my eyes shut. I could have sworn there was nothing under there when I asked Dad to check earlier. But there was no telling with the void under a kid's bed. It was an abyss full of monsters and witches that could open up and swallow me whole if I wasn't careful. Maybe it was time to master sleeping with one eye open...

Scrape. Tap. Scrape.

"Oh, so now we've upgraded to scraping, huh?" I muttered under my breath. My fingers drew my pink princess comforter even tighter around me, and the smell of lavender laundry detergent flooded my senses. Ever since I had told my parents about the resident monster under my bed, they switched up the detergent to calm me down. But right now, I was pretty sure the nice smell was even more appealing to Mr. Scrape.

I tried to block the sounds out and fall asleep. Besides, school started at 7 AM, and third graders didn't show up with dark circles and worry lines. I didn't want to be the exception. Yet, night after night, the tapping and scraping continued. Sometimes, the beast would even grace me with a few bumps for variety. I gotta admit, there's not much wiggle room under my twin-sized bed, so props to the monster for managing to be terrifying even though he probably had a century-old cramp.

Eventually, I got used to the sounds. My mom always played videos of rain falling whenever she cooked, telling me "white noise" helped her relax. Turning Mr. Scrape into my white noise was going perfectly fine until one night–the night he decided to speak.

"Isa. Psst. Isa," he whispered, and my ears pricked at the mention of my nickname. My full name was Isabella Guiluliani (and yes, I can't pronounce my own last name, let alone spell it), but only my parents call me "Isa." To my schoolmates, it's always "Isabella'' or "hey, you!" I guess it wasn't too strange in the era of technology for monsters to be doing background checks. I've seen plenty weirder things in Dad's sci-fi movies. But still, my heart began pounding harder than a drum, and my pulse raged in my ears.

"Isa," he growled again, and my mind went wild. I could already picture a scaly green monster with blue spikes slithering out from under my bed–beady red eyes focusing on me while he bared his wicked-sharp fangs.

I wanted to run so bad. To Mom and Dad's room that seemed to be stocked with monster repellant since I've never heard them complain about any tapping and scraping. Their room was a safe haven, but getting there meant entering the monster's territory–the floor. If I put my foot down, he could easily wrap a tendril around my ankle and pull me into the abyss under my bed.

So I did the only thing I could think of. Scream.

"MOM! DAD!" I hollered at the top of my lungs, over and over until they burst into the room with eye bags darker and heavier than mine.

"What? Is something wrong?" Mom asked while Dad rubbed the last drops of sleep from his eyes.

"There's a monster under my bed," I whimpered. "Can I sleep with you guys, tonight?"

Mom and Dad smiled warmly at me, leading the way back to the safe haven. And when I turned around to peek under my bed, I could swear I heard a small hiss and a few bumps!

Seconds later, I was snuggled between my parents, safe in their warm embrace and far from the reach of any monster. Their sheets smelled like lavender, too, but there was also a faint hint of Mom's cocoa perfume and the pasta Dad had made for dinner. I glanced at Mom, smiling at her already-asleep figure. Her long, dark hair was braided back and away from her face, revealing a few worry lines on her forehead. Did Mom ever have to deal with monsters as a kid? Or nightmares? Or the tooth fairy running a day late? Because that had been stressful.

As if on cue, Mom's hazel eyes fluttered open, crinkling at the edges as her cheeks lifted into a smile.

"Isa," she caressed my face with her soft palm, "I promise there are no monsters under your bed. Dad and I check every night and haven't found a single one. Monsters aren't real, Isa. They don't exist."

Mom shifted her hand so that she was now rubbing soothing circles into my back with the pad of her thumb, but if anything, I felt more restless than before. Why didn't they believe me? Was all that tapping, scraping, and bumping all just in my head? No way! I was almost 100% certain there was something waiting for me–waiting for the right moment to attack. But Mom and Dad never seemed to listen and always told me things were alright when they weren't.

And that's when I made the stupidest decision I could possibly make. I grabbed the pillow I'd brought from my room and slipped out the other side of the bed. "I'm going back to my room. There's no space," I whispered to Mom before waving and disappearing down the hallway.

I calculated each step on the wooden floorboards in my room. When dealing with monsters, it was important you didn't make a sound. Lucky for me, I had memorized which floorboards creaked and which didn't. I held my breath. I was just a few centimeters from my bed, and if I could just–

"Isa," the monster's voice bellowed.

I froze.

No matter how much I tried to move, my limbs wouldn't cooperate. Trying to get to my bed felt like wading through quicksand, not that I would have any experience, or anything. I'm sure wading through quicksand is much less scary than trying to escape a monster.

All I can say is that I wasn't quick enough. And now, I sat on my rump, face-to-face with the monster under my bed. He was bright blue, peppered with iridescent green and lilac scales that shone in the moonlight. The monster's tail wagged excitedly, almost like a puppy's. And those eyes.

"Isa," he began again, but this time, I didn't run. I didn't move. I didn't breathe. Because those eyes glistened with tears and were filled with so much sadness, it made me want to cry, too.

I slowly reached a hand out, using my thumb to rub circles on the monster's squishy blue shoulder the way Mom had done moments earlier. The creature peered at me with curious eyes, a tear spilling past the brim and trickling down his cheek.

"Isa, please help me," he pleaded.

Never once did I think I'd find myself on the floor of my room with the monster from under my bed. Never once did I think it would ask for help. My help.