OCTOBER ll. 2012 PM
Ytte estimated reading time for mis post fti minutes, 34 seconds
I 'i@ ', Sandie Pocket 1" Sandie
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Bedtime is supposed to be a happy event for a tired child: fer me it was terrifying. While some children might
complain about being put to bed before they have finished watching a tolm or playing their favourite video
game, when I was a child, night time was something to truly tear. Somewhere in the back of my mind it still is.
As someone who is trained in the sciences, I cannot prove that what happened to me was tob. real, but I
can swear that what I experienced was genuine horror- A tear which In my life, I' m glad to say, has never been
equalled. I will relate it to you all now as best I can, make of it what you will, but I' ll be glad to just get it off of my
I can' t remember exactly when it started, but my apprehension towards falling asleep seemed to correspond
with my being moved into a room of my own. I was 8 years old at the time and until then I had shared a room,
quite happily, with my older brother, As is perfectly understandable for a boy 5 years my senior, my brother
eventually wished for a room of his own and as a result, I was given the room at the back of the house.
It was a small, narrow, yet oddly elongated room, large enough for a bed and a couple of chest of drawers, but
not much else. I couldn' t realty complain because, even at that age, I understood that we did not have a large
house and I had no real cause to be disappointed, as my family was both loving and caring. It was a happy
childhood, during the day
A solitary window kooked out onto (our back garden, nothing out trothe ordinary, but even during the day the
light which crept into that room seemed almost hesitant.
As my brother was given a new bed, I was given the bunk beds which we used to share While I was upset
about sleeping on my own, I was excited at the thought of being able to sleep in the top bunk, which seemed
far more adventurous to me.
From the very first night I remember a strange feeling of unease creeping slowly from the back of my mind. I
lay on the top bunk, staring down at my action figures and cars strewn across the greenville carpet As
imaginary battles and adventures took place between the toys on the floor, I couldn' t help but feel that my eyes
were being slowly drawn towards the bottom bunk, as if something was moving in the corner of my eye.
Something which did not wish to be seen.
The bunk was empty, impeccably made with a dark blue blanket tucked in neatly, partially covering two rather
bland white pillows- I didn' t think anything of it at the time, I was a child, and the noise slipping under my door
from my parent' s television, bathed me in a warm sense of safety and wellbeing.