Timothy was screaming again.
He tried not to, he was nearly six now, but he was terrified of what darkness concealed in the night.
He screamed until his father arrived.
His eyes red from exhaustion, he did his best to sound understanding.
“Timmy, it’s four in the morning, we’ve been over this. Your mother and I both have work tomorrow, go to sleep. There’s nothing under the bed. Nothing.”
And before Timothy could even respond, the door swung back shut, leaving him alone, in the dark, petrified by thoughts of the eternal, empty void that existed just under his bed…
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
Nothing Under the Bed
Labels: 100 words, Drabble, Short story
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