Matilda sat on the edge of her bed, staring at the pale glow of rain against her bedroom window. The clock on the wall whispered past midnight. Her room was silent except for the soft tapping of water outside and the occasional creak from the old wooden floor.
She rubbed her tired eyes and pulled the blanket over her legs. Something felt wrong tonight. Heavy. Like the darkness in the room was breathing.
Then the mattress moved.
A small dip behind her.
Matilda froze.
Slowly, she turned her head toward the empty bed.
Nothing.
She laughed nervously at herself, but before she could breathe again, a hand burst through the blanket beside her.
Gray. Thin. Human.
She screamed and stumbled backward onto the floor.
Another hand ripped through the mattress.
Then another.
Then dozens.
The bed began to bulge and twist as hundreds of pale hands clawed their way out from inside it. Fingers snapped and stretched like spiders searching for prey. The sound of tearing fabric filled the room.
“No— no, please!”
The hands grabbed her ankles.
Matilda kicked wildly, but more wrapped around her wrists, her arms, her hair. Ice-cold fingers dug into her skin. They pulled with impossible strength, dragging her toward the center of the bed where the mattress had split open into a hole of pure darkness.
Not a shadow.
A void.
From inside it came whispers. Hundreds of voices speaking at once.
“Stay with us…”
“You belong here…”
Matilda clawed at the floorboards, nails breaking, tears streaming down her face. But the hands kept pulling. Her body sank deeper into the darkness beneath the bed.
Her chest disappeared.
Then her shoulders.
The last thing visible was her terrified face illuminated by the flickering bedside lamp.
Then the light went out.
The room became silent again.
Only the bed remained.
Still.
Waiting for someone else to sit down.
Any similarity to real people, living or dead, is purely accidental. This story is entirely fictional.
Writer : Alireza Hazareh
Before You Leave… Read This: The Red Eyes of the Jungle
