Used furniture is never a good idea.
I told her that. I definitely, absolutely told her that. You have no idea what happened on that couch. No idea what kind of creepy-crawlies could be lurking inside that cabinet.
But, what does she do?
Does she listen to me?
No, of course not.
She goes out and buys a used mattress.
A used mattress.
How the hell am I supposed to sleep? Huh? How can I sleep not knowing?
How can I sleep when the mattress moves?
How am I supposed to live with that?
“It moved Mom, I swear it did.”
“Mattresses can’t move. Don’t be ridiculous.”
“But it did move Mom! It did! I saw it move. The lump wasn’t there before, and now it is.”
She sighed at me, exasperated. “I can’t believe you’re being like this, just because I tried to save some money.”
I rolled my eyes. Rolled them so hard, they nearly bulldozed through my skull. “I saw it move Mom. If it weren’t possessed by something, I wouldn’t be freaking out like this. I would be fine with it, but, no. You went out and bought a demon-possessed mattress. If you had just listened to me and bought a new one, then I wouldn’t be freaking out like this because there wouldn’t be a demon in my mattress.”
My mother sighed again. Another hefty sound, accompanied by a look of irritation.
“Well, it’s fine now, right? It’s not moving anymore, and I don’t see whatever it is that you’re talking about, so you should stop whining and go to sleep.”
I shook my head, sure I hadn’t heard her right.
But, of course:
“What?! Are you serious? How can I go to sleep when there’s something in the mattress Mom? Huh? How am I supposed to sleep when that thing is trying to get me?”
With a very droll, unamused stare, my mother exited the room. Turning off the lights as she went, she said, “Figure it out. If you don’t like it, buy yourself a mattress next time.”
“I’m only fifteen!” I protested.
But the door was closed.
And the lights were off.
And the moonlight was floating eerily into the room, illuminating the covers on my bed. Spotlighting the devil.
For a moment, I stared. Watched the bed. Waiting for it to move. For it to make itself—whatever “it” was—known.
Waited because I knew.
I knew what I saw before. Knew what I’d felt.
Right up against my body. Like there was a giant rat under the mattress. Pushing me. Cold as it passed by. A presence that couldn’t be animal or man. A presence that was spirit in nature—at the very least. A presence that poked at me sharply as it went by. That probably had teeth and claws and intended to use them on me.
A presence that definitely didn’t have good intentions.
It had definitely been there. And it definitely passed by, slinking beneath the skin of the mattress.
And when the lump went away?
I felt the eyes.
Something was grabbing me. Something underneath was reaching up, gripping my waist. Dragging me. Pulling at me. As if it intended to suck me into the mattress itself.
Cold fear had gripped me then. Piercing me through to the bone as I had struggled. As I had screamed.
It wants me. I know it does.
It wants to devour me.
I know that’s what I saw.
What I felt.
What it wanted.
Eyes open, unblinking and unflinching, I waited.
Held my breath as my eyes searched the sheets for the thing again. For it to reach out to me. Grab me.
For a few minutes, all I did was stare.
Or, maybe I stood there for forever. I couldn’t really be sure.
Time has a lot more presence when you’re holding your breath.
Breath stalled, I waited and watched. Waited. And watched. Waited some more, immobile as my eyes roved over the surface of my sheets.
But it was all in vain.
There was nothing.
After I let my breath go, began breathing again, I didn’t feel satisfied. In fact, I felt even more worry. Because I knew:
It had to be there.
How could you make something like that up? Those feelings—the sensation of it’s dark presence—was unmistakable. Something that I couldn’t have possibly imagined.
It was too real.
Far too real.
That thing in the mattress…
It was real.
And it had to be there. Even if my eyes didn’t catch it, my mind wasn’t fooled.
It was still here.
I was still sleepy.
Exhausted, actually. All the fear and adrenaline sapping my energy. Making my eyes more tired than they were before I first tried to sleep.
What do you do when you’re fifteen and your mother buys you a possessed mattress? Call a priest? Buy some holy water? Throw down some crosses?
What’re you supposed to do about it?
I didn’t know.
Still don’t know, actually.
What am I supposed to do if even my mom won’t believe me?
I don’t know.
I figured it’d be best to sleep on it.
I’m so punny.
Thanks for reading! I greatly appreciate your time. If you liked what you read here and are looking for a bit more, then feel free to rove my site. I’ve got tons of things on here with tons of topics, and tons of genres. Or, if you’re looking for more-more, I also have a book out called Into the Wilderness (that’s the link there). It’s about werewolves who despise full moons, vampires who are absolutely nasty, and surviving through strange circumstances. It’s got some of my strange humor—as exampled above—and it’s got some “food for thought” type of stuff (if you’d like to see what I mean by that, you can go through that tag on my site and take a bite, so to speak, just to see what I mean). Because: what is writing without some kind of idea? Right?
Thanks for reading! And—although it’s still a couple days away, this might be the only time I see some of you, so—