I. Love. My. Bed. I mean, I do everything there – homework, work, game on my laptop, watch TV, read… you name it. It’s like my personal sanctuary. But there’s always been one rule I never broke in bed: no food. My parents instilled that one in me, and I stuck to it. I’m sure you have heard it too.
That is until one night, after watching some movie about a fancy restaurant where the chef got a bit murderous, I got hit with a craving for a cheeseburger. The idea of chowing down on one while watching a flick seemed irresistible. So, the next night, I had a plan. A new Notflix release and something to eat, I settled for a pizza delivery.
The movie was a bit of a letdown, but the pizza was comforting. I left the nearly empty box on the floor, a few crusts still inside. And, I’m embarrassed to admit, there were a couple of crusts in my bed too. But exhaustion combined with a full belly got the better of me, so I shrugged it off and drifted to sleep.
Sometime later, I jolted awake to my laptop making a strange noise, followed by a weird crunching sound, then abrupt silence. Figuring it was just ants drawn to the crusts, I tried to go back to sleep. But the crunching returned, louder this time, coming from under my bed. I groped for my phone, my hand brushing against something… cold.
In that instant, the crunching stopped. I turned to see two glassy eyes staring at me from the darkness. Panic seized me as the crunching noise came from where the eyes remained fixed. Heart pounding, I bolted from my room, switching on every light in the house and took cover behind the couch in the living room. The bedroom remained dark.
I heard a thump on the floor, followed by a strange sliding noise. Suddenly, the thing appeared right at my bedroom’s doorstep, watching me. It was sickening to look at, like a human, but with all its body parts put together wrong.
One arm bent backward; one leg twisted unnaturally. Its head was smaller than usual, and its neck twisted around like when you twist a towel to wring it out. And its eyes were literally like two round mirrors, reflecting the surroundings.
It spoke to me, emitting a strange, rumbling noise at first. I could barely understand its words, yet it persisted, refining its speech with each repetition.
“D yu n za?”
“Do y ant izza?”
Is it really trying to say what I think it is?
“Do you want pizza?”
“What the… Is this a dream?” I muttered, feeling the surrealness of the moment wash over me. It kept its eyes locked onto me, I could see how it was calculating what to do and I doubt it wanted to be friends, despite its odd question. It reminded me way too much about the goat man I have read about somewhere.
The creature lingered for a moment, stretching out its gnarly disfigured hand right at the edge of the light, beckoning me with its stumpy fingers.
My instincts told me to not move else it would charge at me. I nearly chuckled at the absurdity of the situation. I was tempted to jest and respond, just in case this was a dream, deciding I might as well have fun with it. However, a gnawing sense of danger reminded me that I could be facing a real threat.
But in a situation like this, what does someone do? It’s not as if there’s a saying for this, like the one about meeting a bear.
It stretched its head upward, accompanied by an unsettling crackling sound, sending a shiver through my entire body. I hated that noise more than anything, and then…
It. Started. To. Laugh.
It sounded like a recording, similar to a laugh track from a show like “Friends,” devoid of any warmth or humanity. Just fake. I noticed its mouth was closed, yet the laughter continued. That’s when I saw it: a hole in its throat, from where the laughter came from.
I squeezed my eyes shut and thought to myself, “Please wake up, please wake up, please wake up.” The apartment fell silent, and I could hear it shifting in place. Back and forth, back, and forth.
I forced myself to open my eyes, hoping it would be gone, but of course, it was still there. In my most dark and stern tone, I told it to Leave Me Alone.
The creature lingered for a moment, before retreating into my bedroom. I guess it didn’t like the light.
I just sat there, watching, and waiting for whatever that was to come back out and end me. “Is this some kind of SCP? Are SCPs actually real?” I thought to myself, my mind racing with theories.
Yet nothing happened. Hours went by, and eventually, I must have passed out from exhaustion.
The next morning, I cautiously returned to my room, finding the pizza box empty, no crusts in sight. And under the bed? Nothing.
That confirms it, yesterday actually happened. It wasn’t some fever dream. It happened; it was real. What was that thing? And what did it want? So many questions flooded my mind, each one more unsettling than the last. The uncertainty gnawed at me. What scares me the most is the unknown.
But I can’t shake the feeling that my late-night snack lured it out from the shadows under my bed.
Whatever it was, do not eat in bed. Trust me, you do NOT want to meet it. Any small crust or leftover might attract it. You have been warned.