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I had a monster under my bed.

Like every child I believed in him-

in his deadly endeavors, to be precise;

at night when fireflies sucked the spirit

out of those lamps, he came out.

My mother used to say, he only takes

the ‘naughty’ children with him,

and I had difficulties understanding her words.

The word ‘naughty’ has many meanings,

for different scenarios at least,

but for me then it had a single one_


it spills out of the cauldron

of my innocent heart, like milk does

while boiling. And I could see the horrors

on my mother’s face, dimming before me.

Even with my eyes closed, I could tell

it was the same, when she had found out.


The Monster is coming.

And it comes every night,

when all those fireflies die.

It comes, and stares at you,

to make sure if you are obeying his rule.

Though I thought it was the same for everyone,

I was not sure, if they had an ally-

like my father.

Whenever I was a little curious about the

existence of the monster in my room,

I found myself, searching for his face

from under my blanket.

And I could see him, smiling at me

with the same imposing aura of assurance.

Every night, he comes to defeat the monster

under my bed. And over his lips, an intersecting finger

Rests to remind me of his rule to stay silent.

Now the monster doesn’t come out

from under my bed. He took fear with him,

but left pain for me, with the same Monstrous smile

looming over me, infinitely.

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