Monsters Under the Bed

Ever since she was a little girl, Isabel Perkins worried there were monsters under her bed.

It didn’t matter that Mama and Papa would get down on their knees, peek beneath the ruffled edge of the flowered bedspread, and assure her everything was fine. It didn’t matter that the tiny light Mama placed in her room gave off a soft warm blush that alleviated the darkness. Nor did it matter that Papa kept the bedroom door slightly ajar so Isabel could call out if she became frightened.

No, none of that mattered.

Because Isabel was convinced there were monsters under the bed. She might not be able to see them, but she knew they were there.

As decades passed, so did the fears of childhood. The monsters receded from Isabel’s memory.

Until Joe died.

After nearly fifty years of marriage, it was hard being on her own again. The loneliness was something awful, and she had trouble sleeping nights. Worse, she began to worry about things.

Like monsters.

It began innocently enough.

Two months ago, she was having her hair done at Bea Edwards’ beauty shop. Everyone said Bea’s was the best place in town for a color and cut. It was also the best place to find out what was happening in Schuyler Falls. Every woman between the ages of fifteen and seventy came to Bea for their beauty needs, and each brought with her a bit of gossip.

That particular morning, Isabel overheard a conversation between two women sitting under hair dryers. It seemed a fellow in a neighboring county, working for the Water Authority, slipped a little something into the water supply, making a rash of people sick. It ended up killing a few of the older citizens – all because they took a drink of water!

Isabel didn’t join the conversation, but thoughts about the possible doings of county employees preyed on her mind. She started worrying about the people in charge of Schuyler Falls’ water supply – and whether a psychological profile ought to be required for county employees.

She said as much to her son, Sam, when he came to visit the next day. Sam just laughed. “Ma, you’re such a card!”

It wasn’t the response Isabel wanted, but she let it pass. Folks said she had an active imagination about things.

Especially since Joe died.

It was like that flat screen TV Sam had given her for Mother’s Day.

He placed it atop the old oak chest sitting across from the foot of her bed. “This way, Ma, you can lay in bed at night and watch TV, snuggled under the covers.”

Sam worried about her. “You know what, Ma? You oughta get a dog. Everybody needs company. Maybe one of those little frou-frou dogs. He could snuggle up against you when you watch JEOPARDY at night.”

Isabel didn’t want any damned dog, frou-frou or otherwise. She also didn’t like the idea of that big TV monitor watching her all night long. Still, she didn’t tell Sam; he looked too pleased with himself.

That TV bothered Isabel, though, especially at night. Emblazoned on the rim of the monitor was its brand name, VIZIO. Even turned off, the name continued to cast a ghostly light into the room. VIZIO seemed too close to the word ‘vision,’ and that unsettled her. She got to wondering if the TV people were watching her while she slept, wondered if those cable people had an arrangement whereby they could spy on citizens as they slept in their beds.

She’d noticed their trucks in the neighborhood. They always seemed to be around. Who knew what they were capable of? Isabel thought someone should do a psychological profile on people who worked for the cable company.

She finally figured out how to hide the TV’s brand name; she placed a large piece of duct tape over the glowing letters. When Sam asked her about the tape, she didn’t tell him about the cable people; she just said the light bothered her.

But that duct tape made everything fine. For a time.

Then the Shadow People started coming to visit.

One night, unable to sleep, Isabel watched a TV show about fleeting, shadowy images, and reports that these shadows might be ghosts or time-travelers – maybe even space aliens!

Chuckling at the gullibility of some folks, Isabel turned off the TV and went to sleep.

But in the days and nights that followed, she’d be making tea or doing a bit of ironing in her dimly lit kitchen and suddenly take notice of a fleeting shadow. First time it happened, she dismissed it as a trick played by the light. But the shadows began to appear with increasing frequency. That scared Isabel.

Scared her enough to bring it up with Sam.

“Ma, I got you the TV so you could watch JEOPARDY, not listen to kooks jibber-jabbering about ghosts and UFOs. Jesus! You keep this stuff up, and people will think you belong on the Funny Farm. You oughta get a dog! Maybe it would take your mind off all this crazy stuff.”

She could see Sam was angry. He was also something more. Something that made Isabel uneasy. Did he think she was nuts? She’d heard of sons placing their mothers in nursing homes for less. Isabel didn’t want to wind up in a nursing home.

That was when she decided silence was a virtue. She’d keep her monsters to herself.

And it was why she kept quiet about Polly Andrews.

Everyone in Shuyler Falls loved Polly, including Isabel. A fine lady who’d been through a lot when she lost her little girl, everyone respected Polly. She’d been such a caring mother.

Becki had died almost a year ago. Toward the end, she’d been skin and bones, and hollow-eyed. It had been a terrible thing to witness Polly’s grief afterward.

But she was a strong woman, and after a few months, Polly pulled herself together and concentrated on the child she still had living. Isabel had admired her for it.

Yet… just a week ago, Isabel had been in Lynette Monroe’s bakery when Polly walked through the door with her picture-pretty little girl, Cindy.

Except she wasn’t quite so picture-pretty that day. She looked tired. Hollow-eyed.

They were there to pick up some chocolate chip muffins. Isabel watched as Cindy said she didn’t like them, that they tasted funny.

Isabel saw Polly frown. “Lower your voice ‘fore Miss Lynette overhears you talking so evil about her muffins. You don’t like chocolate chip? All little girls like chocolate chips. Your sister liked those muffins.”

Isabel strained to catch Cindy’s reply. “No ma’am, she didn’t. Said they tasted funny. She only ate ‘em to please you.”

A look come over Polly’s face at that, one that brought a chill to Isabel’s heart. She suddenly didn’t recognize Polly, and found herself thinking of things that go bump in the night. Dark things.

Then Polly smiled and the look was gone, and Isabel wondered if she’d imagined it.

“Okay, sugar, you don’t like chocolate chip muffins, we’ll get something else, okay?” Polly caressed the girl’s hair. “After all, it’s all the same. Anything will do.”

And then she winked at Isabel.

Isabel wasn’t sure why that wink bothered her, but it did. The thought of it stayed with her long after she left the bakery.

It made her think of the monsters who used to hide under her bed. Monsters that everyone said weren’t there.

She thought of Sam suddenly. She thought of his face when he mentioned the Funny Farm.

Maybe people were right and there weren’t any monsters. Maybe it was her overactive imagination. After all, everyone knew there really weren’t such things as monsters.

Right?

Isabel decided to get a dog.

* * * *

This story is connected to my flash fiction story, “The Good Mother.” It’s part of a series of flash fiction and short stories I’m working on which revolve around the citizens of the fictional town of Schuyler Falls.

About Kate Loveton

Aspiring novelist. Avid reader of fiction. Reviewer of books. By day, my undercover identity is that of meek, mild-mannered legal assistant, Kate Loveton, working in the confines of a stuffy corporate law office; by night, however, I'm a super hero: Kate Loveton, Aspiring Novelist and Spinner of Tales. My favorite words are 'Once upon a time... ' Won't you join me on my journey as I attempt to turn a hobby into something more?
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11 Responses to Monsters Under the Bed

  1. Somebody better wise up and figure that Polly out. Great reading, though. The story is awesome. ⭐

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  5. Kate Loveton says:

    Hi Melissa, am on my lunch hour and just saw your comment come through. So glad you enjoyed the story – and yes, Polly is scary! 🙂

  6. Great story! And, wow, Polly is scary!

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  8. Kate Loveton says:

    Thanks, Heather. I’m intrigued by the idea of writing a series of flash fictions or very short stories about various members in a community that is… um… slightly ‘off.’ I have a quirky mind, you know… (grin)

  9. You don’t know how happy it makes me to find out that you’re going to turn this into a series of short stories!

    This is a great addition to The Good Mother and further expands on Polly and her condition. It saddens me to think that Polly is now doing the same to Cindy as she did to Becki. I only hope that more people begin to realize that something isn’t quite right with that family.

    Another great short story; you’re beginning to grow a fictional world around these characters and I can see this becoming a popular series for you 🙂

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