2026 February Flash Fiction Challenge: Day 20

For today's prompt, write about a monster.

(Note: If your story gets flagged for review, be patient—we will be releasing comments every few hours throughout the weekdays of this challenge. Our system randomly flags comments for review, so just sit tight and wait for us to set it free! If you run into any other issues with posting your story, please just send me an e-mail at mrichard@aimmedia.com with the subject line: Flash Fiction Challenge Commenting Issue.)

Under the Bed

“Don’t go over there.”

Katie’s heart stopped in her small chest, then started rabbiting in her chest. She was frozen in the middle of her room, halfway to the closet.

“Who’s there?” she asked.

There was a rustling sound, a heavy sliding. The ruffle around her bed moved just a bit.

“Just … don’t go to the closet. Get back in bed.”

“Where you are?” she asked.

The voice chuckled, low and oddly melodic. “Fair, perfectly fair. Not the bed, then. Your little chair over there, by the tiny house.”

“It’s a dollhouse.” Fear was still trilling through her, but the chair was on the other side of the room from both the bed and the closet. She made her way over, curling up under the blanket there.

“Well, excuse me,” the voice under the bed huffed. “The people who lived here before your people were old! They didn’t have dollhouses.”

“They’re not my people,” she said. Then, quickly, “How long have you lived here?”

“A long time. Don’t worry about it.”

Katie sniffed and looked at the closet. It had unlatched quietly and swung partly open on its own—that’s what had attracted her attention to it in the first place. But now, it stayed still and quiet. The fairy lights hanging around her bed made the room feel huge, full of dark pockets, but also warm. It was much better than the family that she’d been with before, where she had to share a small room with three other girls.

“What’s wrong with the closet?” she asked.

The heavy sliding sound came again, followed by a dramatic huff. “What isn’t wrong with it, more like. Beastly thing. Best avoided at night, if you know what’s good for you.”

They were silent for a while before Katie’s back started hurting. This chair was awful.

“Will you eat me if I go to the bed?” she asked.

“I don’t eat children.” It—he?—sounded appalled.

“Well, what do you eat?”

“Bad dreams, mostly. If I’m desperate, the weird ones will do, but they always give me a stomachache, so I try and stick to the nightmares.”

“You eat bad dreams?”

“Why would I be crammed under your bed if not? What, you want me to eat the dust bunnies and spiders?"

"It would be nice if you did,” Katie said.

“That’s disgusting. And beneath me!”

It babbled on about what is and isn’t beneath a creature of its fine standing. Katie listened for a bit, gathering her courage. After a deep breath, she leapt from the chair onto the rug, then dashed to the bed, quickly burying herself under the blankets, heart racing once more.

The laugh came again from beneath her. “Goodnight. Have bad dreams, kid.”

“That’s mean,” she grumbled.

“I’ll eat them and then you won’t remember them,” it promised.

It took a long time for Katie to fall asleep, but when she did, it was to the low, melodic humming floating up from beneath the mattress.