Under the Bed: The Shadows That Follow"

Lily had always been a quiet child, full of imagination, but not in the way that parents typically worry about. She never claimed to see ghosts or monsters, and her nightmares were always mild, more like dreams of chasing butterflies or running through fields of daisies. But that all changed one stormy night in the middle of a winter so cold, the air seemed to freeze as it entered the house.

Lily had always loved her bedroom. It was a cozy space with light blue walls, fairy lights twinkling above her bed, and a soft, plush rug on the floor. But after that night, nothing about her room felt safe anymore.

“Mom, there’s something under my bed,” she whispered one evening, her small voice trembling as she clutched her stuffed bear tightly.

Her mother, Sarah, glanced up from the book she was reading, frowning slightly. It was late, and the rain was tapping rhythmically against the windows. Sarah had long since stopped worrying about the usual childhood fears—monsters in the closet, shadows that seemed to move on their own—because Lily had always been the type of child who would get over things quickly. “There’s nothing under your bed, sweetie. You know that.”

Lily’s brown eyes were wide with an intensity that Sarah wasn’t used to seeing in her daughter. “It’s there, Mom. I can hear it breathing.”

“Breathe?” Sarah smiled softly. “You’re imagining things. It’s just the house settling. You’ve had a long day—why don’t you go to sleep, and I’ll leave the door open a crack, okay?”

Lily didn’t argue. She was too tired to continue pressing the issue, but her mind stayed alert, listening to every creak and groan of the house. The lights dimmed as Sarah kissed her forehead, and after a while, Lily drifted off into a restless sleep.

But as the hours passed, Sarah would begin to hear strange sounds coming from the hallway outside Lily’s room. Faint footsteps, like someone walking around, but no one was there. She brushed it off as the storm, as the wind making its way through the old house, but in the pit of her stomach, she couldn’t shake the unease.

The next morning, Lily was visibly tired. Her usual cheerful demeanor was clouded with a look of apprehension. She refused to leave her room without her mother by her side, and every time Sarah tried to comfort her, Lily would insist, “It’s still there, Mom. It hasn’t gone away.”

For the first few days, Sarah tried to convince Lily that her fears were just that—fears. But as the days turned into weeks, things began to change. Every night, Lily would beg her mother to check under the bed, to prove that there was nothing lurking there, but when Sarah looked, she saw nothing but the dust bunnies and stray socks Lily had dropped in her haste to escape.

Still, Lily’s claims grew more frantic.

“I can hear it moving, Mom. It’s watching me.”

At night, Lily would wake up screaming, terrified, her body cold and trembling. She described a shadowy figure, tall and thin, with eyes that glowed red in the darkness. No matter how many times Sarah tried to reassure her, the girl’s fear seemed to grow, becoming something real, something tangible.

And then one evening, as Sarah walked past Lily’s room, she saw it.

It wasn’t a reflection in the mirror or a trick of the light. It was a dark, formless shape, just beyond the edge of Lily’s bedroom door, lingering in the hallway. It shifted in a way that didn’t seem human—moving, twitching, as though it were made of the darkness itself. Sarah froze, her heart pounding in her chest, but when she blinked, it was gone.

That night, Sarah stayed with Lily, trying to convince herself that she was just imagining things. She tucked the girl into bed and promised her she wouldn’t leave. But as she lay beside Lily, something felt wrong. The air was thick, suffocating, and the room seemed to close in around them.

And then, the breathing started.

Slow, deliberate, heavy. It came from underneath the bed, a rhythmic sound like someone—no, something—waiting. Lily clutched Sarah’s hand tightly, her eyes wide with terror.

“Mom, it’s back,” she whispered.

Sarah’s mind raced. Could it be the wind? Could the house be settling again? But the breathing was too deep, too deliberate. She had no explanation for it.

“I’ll check, honey,” Sarah said, forcing a calmness into her voice as she leaned over the edge of the bed.

Nothing.

There was nothing under the bed, no sign of the thing Lily was so afraid of. But then, as Sarah was about to straighten up, she felt it.

A cold, clammy hand brushed against her leg, sending a jolt of panic through her body. She gasped and pulled away, her heart racing, but when she looked, there was nothing.

“Mom… it touched me…” Lily’s voice was barely above a whisper, her eyes filled with horror.

The air in the room grew thick, oppressive, and Sarah’s heart pounded in her chest as she realized something was terribly wrong.

The following weeks brought more strange occurrences. It wasn’t just Lily who noticed the shadows. It was Sarah too. The house felt different—darker. Even during the day, there was an unsettling feeling in every room. The shadows in the corners of the rooms seemed to stretch and writhe, always moving, always watching.

One afternoon, as Sarah was cleaning Lily’s room, she turned to the side and saw something that made her blood run cold. The reflection in the mirror didn’t match the scene in front of her. The room behind her, the walls, the bed—they were all wrong. They were twisted, distorted. And in the reflection, she saw a figure standing at the foot of the bed. Tall, black, and moving closer.

Sarah turned quickly, but there was no one there. She rushed to Lily’s side, trembling with fear, but Lily just looked at her, her eyes wide and scared.

“It’s watching us, Mom. It’s going to get us.”

That night, after Sarah tucked Lily into bed, she stayed awake, watching the shadows. The breathing had become a constant presence, always there, even when it wasn’t. It was like something was waiting, watching, just beyond her line of sight.

At 3:00 AM, when the house was silent except for the sound of the wind, the shadows moved again.

Sarah could hear the faint rustle of something from beneath the bed. Her pulse quickened. She knew she couldn’t ignore it anymore.

As she approached the bed, the air turned freezing, her breath visible in the coldness. And then, for the first time, she saw it. A figure—tall and thin, its face obscured in shadow. Its hands were stretched out from underneath the bed, grasping at the air.

The figure wasn’t human. It was something far worse—something older, something that had been waiting, lurking for years.

Sarah screamed, but before she could move, the figure crawled from beneath the bed, its hollow eyes locked on her. Lily’s screams joined hers, and as they tried to flee, the shadows seemed to follow, crawling out of the bed and onto the walls, reaching for them.

The last thing Sarah saw before she was swallowed by the darkness was the figure’s cold, twisted smile—eyes glowing red as it whispered, “You should have believed her.”

Conclusion:

When the authorities arrived the next morning, the house was empty. Sarah and Lily had vanished without a trace, and the only thing left behind was the empty bed, its sheets ruffled, and the ominous shadows still lingering, waiting for the next soul foolish enough to dismiss the warning.

And somewhere, deep beneath the floorboards, the breathing continued.