“The Knock Under the Bed”

When Mira was 10, her mother told her, “If you ever hear a knock from under your bed, don’t answer it.” She’d laughed back then. Monsters weren’t real. Life was school, homework, and falling asleep to YouTube videos under her blanket. But tonight, fifteen years later, as thunder cracked through her tiny apartment, something knocked. Knock. Knock. Knock. Three times. Slow. Hollow. From under the bed. Mira froze, the sound slicing through the storm outside. She told herself it was the pipes, or the cat—except her cat had died last month. Another knock came, this time softer. Like… a question. Her phone buzzed, the sudden vibration making her yelp. A text from an unknown number blinked on the screen: “It’s cold down here.” Her chest tightened. Mira’s phone slipped out of her shaking hand and thudded on the floor. Then— Knock. Closer now. She grabbed her flashlight, clicked it on, and crouched beside the bed. Her voice came out a whisper. “Who’s there?” Silence. She leaned lower, light trembling in her hand. The beam caught something pale—a small hand pressed against the underside of her mattress. Mira screamed and stumbled backward, hitting her dresser. The phone buzzed again. Another text: “Why did you move the bed?” Her heart raced. She slowly looked around the room. Everything was where it always was… except—no, the bed had been moved. A few inches from the wall. Just enough space for something to crawl out. The knocking stopped. For a full minute, Mira didn’t move. Then she heard the soft drag of something sliding out from under her bed. Her flashlight flickered once—twice—then went dead. In the darkness, a small, trembling voice whispered, “You left me here.” Mira’s breath hitched. The smell of damp earth filled the room. The floorboards creaked as something stood up. Lightning flashed through the window—just long enough for Mira to see a little girl, face gray and cracked like dry clay, eyes wide and glassy. The girl’s head tilted. “I was cold,” she said. “But now you’re warm.” Before Mira could scream, the lights went out again. And when the neighbors finally reported the smell days later, the police found her bed shoved tightly against the wall. Underneath it, on the dusty floor, were two sets of footprints—one entering… and one never leaving.