My monster is my friend.I was young, I was small, and I was impressionable.
I was tired, I was brave, I was confused.
Most children are afraid of the monsters under there bed or the monsters in your closet.
I wasn't scared.
I embraced it.
I laid in bed, the door to my closet was open just a crack.
The moon had a nice aim on the window beside said closet, so the room wasn't entirely dark.
The door opened more.
Enough for the light to seep into the closet.
Enough for me to make out the closing hanging, frozen.
Enough for me to see the busted light bulb at the top of the small space.
Enough for me to see the figure holding it open.
It was darker than black, it was small and deformed.
It was as eerie as the quiet knocking you hear when your the only one home.
It was as different as panicking as that feeling you get when you think somebody was watching.
I stared, I didn't want to blink, I didn't want to go to sleep.
It was just a blacker than black small void, with its own little figure.
Time passed and I still di