A Halloween Story (part I)

UNDER THE BED

Douglas Grayson was convinced the voice came from under his bed. The voice was no louder than a whisper, but he was sure he heard something.

Sooon, the voice had said. I’ll see you soon.

Douglas sat with his back against the headboard, clutching the covers tight against his chest. His heart was beating quick and loud and his breath was caught somewhere between his lungs and open mouth.

It was late and dark. Douglas’ eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness and he was able to make out his desk, the chest of drawers, his closet, and the T.V. Everything in its place, just as it should be.

Turning his ear to listen once more, Douglas sought the sound that had awoken him from what he remembered to be quite the cheery dream. There were puppies and ice cream and no school. Even his little brother Donald was nowhere to be seen. It was the kind of dream no one would want to leave.

But that voice – that sneaky, slick hiss – pulled him out of wonderland. And into darkness.

And into fear and frantic eyes searching a still room.

Douglas listened. Nothing. No sound but that of the wind outside tapping gently against the side of the house.

Maybe it was all in his imagination, Douglas thought. His mother had warned him about watching scary movies right before bed. Of course scary movies had never bothered him before. Tonight he was even able to convince Donald that Chuck vs. the Zombies was totally appropriate for a five year old, and not in the least bit terrifying or frightening.

It didn’t take but five minutes and one slow-moving, hideously disfigured, moaning zombie to send Donald silently screaming from the sofa.

Donald had not said a word in the six months since Douglas had popped out from inside his closet one night as he was just about to fall asleep. Wearing a blood-red clown’s nose and sharp, hairy wolf man claws, Douglas had simply scared the voice right out of his little brother.

Could little Donald be out for revenge? He was small enough, Douglas thought. He could have slipped under the bed as I was sleeping. He had given Douglas an eerie twitch of a smile as he padded in his pajama-clad feet off to bed that night.

“Donny?” Douglas whispered. “Is that you?”

The room was silent. Nothing moved. Nothing answered back.

Douglas relaxed. His white-knuckle grip on the sheets loosened. He took a deep breath. Moving to the side of his bed, Douglas dropped his head into the space between his bed and the floor.

Ssssoooon, the voice spat from deep underneath the bed.

Douglas jerked his head up and slammed his back against the headboard. He threw the bedcovers over his head, hugging his knees tightly between shaking arms.

Definitely not Donald.

(to be continued)

Copyright 2008 Josh Shaver