Grown-ups will tell you that monsters don’t exist. They’ll try to convince you that the little bumps in the night are just your imagination. But grown-ups don’t always tell the truth…or is it they just don’t remember what it’s like to be a kid? Whatever the reason, little James Werner knew that something wasn’t right in his room. In fact, something was definitely wrong!
Too often shadows danced in the doorways of his dim lit room.
Creaks and cracks echoed when no one was around.
And occasionally, he saw them.
“Mom! Dad! there are tiny monsters in my room!”
But of course every hideous horror vanished as mom and dad walked through the door.
“Go to sleep hon” his mother would say “it’s just your imagination.”
But hey! could you sleep if monsters were parading around your room at night?
It always started with tiny whispers wondering through the air.
Followed by footsteps under the bed then everywhere.
The closet door would creek,
And when the clock struck 12,
Tiny monsters began to crawl out.
Poor James hadn’t had a good nights sleep in a month!
And frightful fear was slowly brewing into a stew of bitter rage.
“This must stop!” He thought, “If dad and mom aren’t going to help me then I’ll have to take matters into my own hands.”
And into his own hands he did.
James was going on the attack, a tennis racket attack.
It was a warm summer night,
James finished brushing his teeth and kissed his parents goodnight.
“Don’t let the bed-bugs bite” his father said.
Quietly James laid in his bed with the covers over his head.
His hand gripped the racket as the clock ticked-tocked.
The clock struck midnight.
Bare feet hit the cold floor.
The moons light flickered off his twirling racket.
“This is my room” James said and the monster whacking began.
Creepy crawlers and foul fiends thudded as they hit the wall.
Ticks and clicks from tiny toes and feet scattered all about.
And gruesome voices hollered in the night “Hey!” “Ouch!” “My Horns!”
James had transformed into a twirling tornado of terror; purging his room of these nasty creatures of the night.
And then he heard it.
There it was again, and again.
It was all around, the sound of…of crying.
The monsters were crying.
“Why must everyone hurt and despise us?” a purple monster cried.
“We have done nothing wrong” bawled a one-eyed beast.
Another begged, “All we want is to peacefully march in our Midnight Parade.”
James lowered his racket and asked,
“You are not bad monsters?”
“NO! *sniff *sniff Bad monsters are rare and scare only the misbehaved.
You are a very good child which is why we thought it safe to have our Midnight Parade here.
“What is a midnight parade?”
Why it’s what we tiny monsters live for!
We gather in a line, and when the clock strikes 12,
we march and clap and have a monster-ific time!
Tens of tiny monsters began to step into the moon’s light. Monsters so ugly that they were actually kind of cute…but don’t get me wrong they were extremely ugly!
So James set his racket down, and in his room under the moons shimmering light he marched. He marched until the twinkling stars began to disappear. He marched until his eyes became heavy. Quietly he crawled into bed. The soft sounds of feet pattering to a steady beat danced in his ears until he fell fast asleep.
And then they ate him.The End…of James