Even as an adult, I’ve never quite shaken the childhood fear of something hiding beneath my bed. Creaky floorboards, flickering shadows, and howling wind always seem to stir that unease.
Last night, it happened again. Just as I settled into bed, I heard a soft rustling—barely audible, but enough to make me freeze. Then it came again, louder this time. Something—or someone—seemed to be under the bed.
My heart pounded. Do I turn on the light and look? Or pretend I heard nothing and hope it goes away?
Curiosity won. I grabbed my phone, switched on the flashlight, and slowly peered underneath.
Nothing. Just dust and an old sock.
Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling. Maybe it really was just my imagination… or maybe, not.
