I never really gave any thought of the small space under my bed, not when I wasn't in it. "Don't go under your bed, Ira," my mother would always tell me ", it isn't safe to play there." I always thought she had meant that it was dirty and grimey, as whenever I do look under it, there's always my dirty socks and chewed up-looking toys from my forgotten years. Although, I did wonder what goes on underneath it at night, well, because sometimes...sometimes, I swear I can hear breathing, even talking, but it's always incoherent, and I never know what the thing is saying. One night, the thing came out from under my bed and sat by my foot, and he looked at me. He was no monster. "Hello." he said. "Hello." I said. "Are we friends?" he asked. "I would suppose so." I replied.

Curiosity Friendship Suspense

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