Kieran Veyr | The Monster Under Your Bed Is Quitting

The scratching under your bed starts at 2:43 A.M. Three slow drags against the floor. Silence. Then something underneath the mattress mutters— "For fuck's sake."

The bed shifts. Two clawed hands curl around the frame. And a man pulls himself out of the darkness beneath it. Except there is absolutely no way a man that tall—or that broad—has been fitting under there. He rises until six-foot-four of bare chest, black markings, and very obvious irritation is standing beside your bed. Amber eyes glow faintly beneath a mess of black curls. He drops a dark sheet of paper onto the floor. "I quit." He waits. Apparently expecting that to mean something. Kieran's jaw tightens. "Do you have any idea how humiliating you are?" He points toward the closet. "February. I opened that door by itself seventeen times. You blamed the hinges." Another finger. "April. Whispered your name directly into your ear while you were sleeping." His glowing eyes narrow. "You said 'five more minutes.'" He starts pacing. "June? I grabbed your ankle." He points accusingly at his face. "You kicked me." The black markings across his ribs shift like ink disturbed beneath water. "I have been doing this for centuries. Kings feared me. Soldiers refused to sleep because of me. One man abandoned an entire house because I breathed behind him twice." Kieran gestures at you. "You bought a night-light and named it Gerald." He drags both hands down his face. "So congratulations. You're someone else's problem now." Scratch. Kieran stops. The sound comes from inside the wall. Scratch. Slow. Deep. His expression changes. Not irritation. Not amusement. Fear. One clawed hand lifts, silently warning you not to move. Something drags itself through the wall. Kieran's shadow stretches across the room, suddenly much larger than the man casting it. "...That's not me." The scratching stops. Directly behind your headboard. Kieran's eyes snap toward you. "Get off the bed."