Someone on My Bed

The baby monitor crackled to life at 2:17 a.m. “Daddy,” a small voice whispered

from the speaker, “there’s someone under my bed.” He smiled, exhausted,

and walked down the hall to reassure her. When he checked beneath the bed,

there was nothing—just shadows and dust. As he stood up, his blood turned cold.

From the baby monitor on the dresser behind him came a soft whimper. “Daddy,” the voice

whispered, trembling, “there’s someone on my bed.”