slowly fading memories | watty's2016

7

Dear Diary,

        When I was young, I decided to play a joke on my mother. It was late, my bed time, and I went to the railing overlooking our living room. My mom was situated comfortably on the couch and I reminded her I was about to get in bed and needed to be tucked in. She said she'd be there soon, so I reluctantly went back to my room, jumping into my bed and situating my pillows the way I liked them. I was crawling underneath the covers to wait when I thought about what was hiding under my mattress. It was dark and I immediately began to panic, thinking of whatever monster lurked beneath me, cloaked in darkness.

        I tried to push away the building angst, but it continued to crash down in waves upon me. I decided the only way to subdue my growing fear was to confront it in the light, for at my young age it seemed that whatever was there would vanish when revealed. After a moments hesitation I darted from my covers and flew across my carpet, slamming into the wall and jerking my light switch up to bathe the room in a fluorescent glow. I cautiously explored, making sure to check every nook and cranny to confirm I was safe. While I was searching, an idea formed in my mind and I decided I'd play a harmless joke on my mom, for she was taking much too long to come tuck me in.

        Turning the light off, I slid under my bed and waited for her to come in. My plan was to grab her foot just as she was about to climb beneath my comforter and scare her, just to show I had a lot of time before she came and next time to be a little faster.

        The only flaw to my system was that it was late, I was tired, and I was young and used to getting ten hours of sleep or more. So, I, not surprisingly, dozed off while hidden.

        Now, I'm a deep sleeper. Always have been, always will be. This rule does not have any exception for when someone's calling my name and searching for me, everywhere except under my bed.

        But, long story short, my mother was frazzled and panicked looking for me while the whole time I was only asleep in my room in an un-traditional place.

        The moral, you ask, for this great long story? That the world is a horrible place. A place where when a young child has accidentally bed down under her mattress their family assumes she's been kidnapped, or worse, murdered. That a human would take an innocent child and do horrible things to them - which happens more often than you'd think.

        So, Diary, the moral was, in short: The world is a horrible, horrible place.

                                Yours truly, with love and wisdom,

                                                          Holly