Monster under the bed

⏱ ~4 min reading

Andriyko lay in bed and listened to the autumn wind rustling softly outside. The room smelled of warm milk and a little of his mother's perfume. A small mushroom-shaped nightlight shone on the bedside table, casting shimmering spots on the wall.

And suddenly - rustle. Rustle-rustle.

Andriyko froze. The sound came from below. From under the bed.

"It must be a mouse," he whispered to himself, pulling the blanket up to his nose. "Or the wind. Or the teddy bear fell.".

But the teddy bear sat peacefully on the shelf. And the wind doesn't know how to sniff. And the mouse doesn't sigh like that - deeply, deeply, as if it were sad.

The boy closed his eyes and began to count the sheep. One sheep, another sheep, a third... But then again - a sniffle. And then a quiet sound, like a sob.

Andriyko carefully reached over to the bedside table and picked up the flashlight. His heart was pounding so hard that it seemed he could hear it all the way in the kitchen, where his mother was washing the cups.

“I’ll just take a look,” he said out loud, to give himself courage. “Just once. That’s it.”.

He slid out of bed, squatted on the carpet, and slowly, very slowly, leaned in. The flashlight beam plunged into the darkness under the bed—and illuminated two large round eyes.

Andriyko almost screamed. But the eyes that looked at him were not at all scary. Rather, they were frightened.

Under the bed, crouched between an old box of blocks and a slipper, sat someone small, shaggy, and purple. About the size of a cat, only fluffier. He had long, soft ears like a rabbit's, a button nose, and three soft horns on his head, like ice cream cones.

“You… who?” Andriyko whispered.

Shaggy sighed and pressed himself even tighter against the box.

"I'm Mnyash," he muttered in a voice that sounded like the creak of an old rocking chair. "Please don't scream. I'm not scary. I'm just... lonely.".

Andriyko blinked. The flashlight in his hand trembled slightly, but not from fear, but from surprise.

"Why are you under my bed?"

"Because it's cozy here," replied Mnyash. "It smells like your sweater. And the carpet. And a little bit of the cookies you hid from your mother. I've been living under beds for a hundred years and I'm looking for someone who won't be scared. Everyone's always screaming. And I just want someone to pet me. Just once.".

Andriyko thought. Then he reached out his hand — cautiously, as if to a bird that had flown into the room. Mnyash closed his eyes, and the boy touched his fur. It was warm and soft, like a blanket that his mother had just taken out of the dryer.

"But you're not a monster at all," Andriyko was surprised. "You're a furry.".

"Well, there you go," Mnyash was delighted and even purred softly. "I told you so.".

Andriyko smiled. He lifted Mnyash into his arms—he turned out to be light as a pillow—and sat him down next to him on the bed. Then he covered them both with a blanket.

"Can you come live with me? Well, not under the bed, but on the bed. With my rabbit.".

"You can," whispered Mnyash and leaned his cheek against his shoulder. "Only during the day I will hide, because I am afraid of the light. I am a nocturnal furry.".

"Agreed," Andriyko yawned.

The wind whispered softly outside the window. The mushroom nightlight shone with a warm yellow light. And under the blanket there were now two people - the boy and his new best friend, whom he had once been afraid of.

When Mom looked in to say "good night," she saw that Andriyko was already fast asleep, hugging something small and purple. She smiled and thought, "What a beautiful stuffed animal. I don't remember us buying one like that.".

And Mnyash barely opened one eye, winked at his mother, and fell asleep again. For the first time in a hundred years, he wasn't alone.

In the morning, Andriyko woke up earlier than usual. The sun gently gilded the windowsill, the kitchen smelled of buckwheat porridge and toast. The boy cautiously looked under the blanket: Mnyash was still sleeping, curled up in a ball, and fluffy purple strands were quietly rising and falling on his tummy. Andriyko smiled and carefully carried his friend back under the bed - into the shade between the box with cubes and the slipper. He placed a small blanket from his old doll's cradle and a piece of cookie that he had hidden from his mother yesterday.

"Sleep," he whispered. "I'll be back in the evening.".

From that day on, Andriy had a best night friend. During the day, he would walk with his mother in the park, feed pigeons, and draw with paints. And in the evening, as soon as the big light went out, two round eyes would quietly peek out from under the bed, and the room would be filled with a pleasant purring—so warm that even the longest night became very short.