Under the rug where it's darker than light rumbles & tumbles a beast born of the night. What is it you ask? Well, to know that one must be brave and one must also crave to place a face to all fears looming. So, go on, lift up the mat's edge... Sneak a peek at darkness booming.
Close the cupboard doors for from far in the back lurches & lumbers forth the most frightful roars. Your ears can follow your fear to the space just farther than the longest arm's reach, past the jar of pickles, and through the forest of forgotten spices, even beyond the lost boxes of instant mashed potatoes which don't grow old for eternity.
It is this lightless den that's home to scores of tiny T-rex looking creatures called Boomasaurs. They spend their time noshing & munching gobbling & gurgling snacks of all kinds; including grazing fingers. You don't need to know too much more about them, of this I'm sure, just go close the cupboard door.
Do you trust your boomerang?
There's nothing under your bed, as sure as there aren't bats in my head, and I write this in a room where laces can't be in shoes, so, you better check under your bed.
For beneath your pillowy paradise on which you wish to float in a dream of candies 'n cream shuffles a shadowy blob; dark, as though made of demons' truffles. And being a black mass of a mess it moves beneath your boxspring in a roll-flop manner. The sound of which when heard lulls the tired & weak, meek, children & adults alike into a nightmare's pleasures. shha-boomshha-boom shha-boomshha-boom shha-boomshha-boom shha-boomshha-boom shha-boomshha-boom shha-boom *shha-boom