Oh, darling, do you ever find yourself lying in bed at night, all cozy under the covers, feeling safe, warm, and completely unaware that something could be lurking just beyond your reach? Well, I’m about to change that for you in the most delightful and terrifying way. Ready? Let’s talk about the thing under your bed.
☕️ Alice’s Mad Tea Party Presents: Storytime
🫖 Alice Spills the Tea on: The Creature Beneath Your Bed
Oh, I can see the look on your face already, dear. That skeptical little smile, like you don’t quite believe in those kinds of things. But honey, I promise you—you should be worried. Because there are things that live in the places where the light doesn’t reach, where shadows hide in plain sight. And those things? Well, let’s just say they get hungry at night.
Now, I’m not talking about some fairytale monster with claws and fangs. No, no. I’m talking about something far sneakier, something you wouldn’t even think to look for. Something that knows your routine—your every little habit, even the ones you think are safe. And I’ll let you in on a secret: it’s been watching you for a long time. But it’s waiting. Always waiting. And trust me, darling, you’ve probably already invited it into your room.
Do you remember that time, maybe just last week, when you were drifting off to sleep? You had your arm hanging over the side of the bed, maybe your foot popping out of the blankets like an invitation. And you just... left it there... dangling. Sweetheart, that was the mistake.
Because you see, there’s a creature under your bed, always under your bed. Not in the corner of the room, not in the closet—no, darling, that’s too obvious. This thing hides just beneath the edge of your mattress, close enough to brush the tips of your toes, close enough to feel the heat of your body but far enough away to stay hidden. It waits for moments like this—when your foot, or your arm, or your hand, or any part of you, just drifts over the edge.
It doesn’t make a sound. It doesn’t need to. It knows when you’re asleep, when you’re dreaming, when you’re too comfortable to notice the little shifts in the air. But the thing under your bed knows. It feels when you get careless.
And it will reach up.
That’s right. The moment you let your limbs dangle, it strikes. Its fingers—long, thin, cold as ice—stretch up from the shadows beneath the bed. And it doesn’t grab you, not at first. No, darling, it licks your skin. A cold, clammy sensation, like a thousand slithering little chills racing up your arm or leg. A touch so light, you might not even notice at first. But trust me, sweetheart, it’s there. It’s always there.
And then, the waiting begins. The thing under your bed doesn’t rush. Oh no, it’s patient. It’s not hungry for just one taste. It wants to savor the fear, the dread that creeps into your bones when you feel that cold touch in the dark. It waits for you to pull your foot back, for you to tuck your arm closer to your side. But darling, here’s the thing—it’s already close now.
It’s not going to stop. It doesn’t need to. You see, once you let it in, it knows exactly how to play this game. You might yank your foot back, you might pull your hand to safety, but guess what? It can reach you anywhere now. Anywhere.
It starts small—at first, just a light pressure on your foot, just enough to make you think it’s all in your head. But as the nights pass, the touch becomes firmer. The pressure increases. And soon enough, it gets bold. That’s when you’ll start feeling a tugging at your blankets, the sensation of something pulling them away just enough for you to notice.
You’ll feel it then—the thing under your bed finally starting to make its move.
And if you ever make the mistake of looking under the bed? Oh, darling, you won’t see much. A flash of movement, a pair of dark, hollow eyes glinting in the shadows—too fast for you to register, too quick for you to scream.
But the worst part? The worst part is when you wake up in the morning, your blanket twisted around your body like you’ve been fighting in your sleep. When you look at the floor beside your bed, you’ll find something. A dark imprint where your foot once hung. And if you’re really unlucky—if you’re really unlucky, there might even be a faint, cold line tracing the skin of your foot.
You won’t remember when it happened. You won’t even know how it got there. But you’ll know one thing: it’s still there. Waiting.
So, go ahead. Go to bed tonight. Curl up, get cozy, and maybe just let your arm dangle over the edge, or your foot peek out from under the covers. See if you can get through one more night. But mark my words, darling, if you ever feel that chill crawl up your leg in the dead of night, you’ll remember this story. And you won’t be so quick to hang that arm over the side next time.
Trust me. You’ll never trust your bed the same way again.
Winkingly yours,
—Alice, Queen of Ink & Lore
Now, darling, I do hope you’re not planning to dangle anything over the edge tonight. Just a little advice from your friend Alice. 😉
