The Girl Under the Bed

Let me tell you a story that still keeps me up some nights.

It’s not made up.

It’s something that happened when I was 12, the year my family moved into a new house in the quiet part of town. It was a peaceful street, big trees, friendly neighbors. The kind of place where nothing bad ever happens.

Except… something did.

And it started the first night I slept in my new room.

1. The First Knock
I was lying in bed, still getting used to the creaky old walls and the weird smell of old wood.

Everything was quiet.

Then—knock. knock. knock.

I jumped.

It wasn’t the door. It was coming from under my bed.

At first, I thought maybe I imagined it. Or maybe a loose pipe? Or the house settling?

But then I heard it again.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

I whispered, “Hello?”

Silence.

Then a tiny voice replied from underneath me:

“Can I come out now?”

2. No One Believed Me
I screamed and ran out of the room. My parents rushed in, turned on all the lights, looked under the bed.

Nothing.

“Probably a bad dream,” Dad said.

“Maybe a mouse,” Mom added.

They gave me a night light and went back to bed.

But I knew what I heard.

And the next night, at the same time—knock. knock. knock.

“Please… I’ve been so quiet.”

3. I Asked Questions
I didn’t want to talk to it. But I also didn’t want to ignore it.

So one night, I whispered:

“Who are you?”

The voice replied, “I’m Lily. I used to live here. But they forgot about me.”

“Who forgot you?”

The voice didn’t answer right away.

Then it said, “Everyone. Even my mom. Even God.”

That made my skin crawl.

I asked, “How long have you been under there?”

And the voice whispered:

“Since I stopped breathing.”

4. The Photos
I started doing some digging.

I went to the local library and asked the oldest lady at the desk if anyone named Lily ever lived in our house.

She gave me a weird look. Then pointed me to the archives.

After searching for an hour, I found a newspaper article from 1995.

It said:

"Local Girl Missing—Last Seen in Bedroom"

Her name was Lily Monroe. Age: 10.

She vanished without a trace from our house. Police found no signs of forced entry. Her parents moved away a year later.

And the creepy part?

The photo in the paper showed my bedroom in the background.

5. Things Got Worse
After that, the knocks didn’t stop.

They got louder.

She stopped saying “please.”

Now, she just repeated the same thing over and over:

“Let me out. Let me out. Let me out.”

Sometimes I’d wake up and see things on the floor—small handprints in dust, even though I’d just cleaned.

I started putting heavy boxes under the bed so nothing could move.

But they’d be pushed out by morning.

6. The Footprint
One night, I left flour on the floor, just to see if anything happened.

The next morning, there was a single bare footprint in the middle of the room.

Not mine.

Too small.

Too… clawed.

And under the bed?

A deep scrape on the floorboards. Like something had dragged sharp nails across it.

7. I Tried to Talk to Her Again
I was shaking, but I did it.

I got down on my knees, stared at the darkness under the bed, and whispered, “What do you want?”

She replied:

“I want to be real again.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m almost done becoming.”

I didn’t sleep that night.

8. The Shadow
A week later, I saw it.

I woke up to a sound like breathing—not normal breathing. It was raspy, shallow, like someone struggling.

I turned over and saw a shape standing at the foot of my bed.

It was small. Like a girl.

But her head tilted all the way to the side—too far, like her neck had snapped. Her arms hung long and stiff.

And her eyes were gone.

She whispered:

“Thank you for listening. Now I can come out.”

I blinked—and she was gone.

But the closet door was wide open.

9. Leaving the House
That was the last night I slept there.

My parents finally believed me when my mom saw scratch marks on the inside of my closet door—too high up for me to reach.

We moved out that month.

Later, I heard the new family who moved in didn’t stay long.

The kid there kept screaming about a girl under the bed who said she had new skin now.

10. If You Ever Hear a Knock…
If you ever move into a new house and hear knocking at night…
If the knocks come from under the bed…
If the voice is sweet, or scared, or polite…

Don’t answer.

Because it’s not a little girl.

Not anymore.

The Girl Under the Bed
Some things stay buried. But if you listen long enough… they’ll find their way back out.