Young Writers Society

When bedtime comes 'round, I am filled up with dread. 

There's monsters, MONSTERS, under my bed! 



They're angry, they're hungry, they drool, and they shed!

There's monsters down there an' they all want me dead!



My mum says good night; I am tucked snugly in. 

I lie in the dark with the sheets to my chin. 



I hear them! They're stirring! They mutter and growl!

They smack and they slobber, they moan and they yowl!



"We're hungry!" They bellow, "It's time for a meal!"

I hug my stuffed teddy. "Don't eat me!" I squeal.  



"Who said that?" one cries out, "Is somebody there? 

You're frightening all of us out of our hair!"



I peek in at them- they peek out at me. 

There's six, with a blanket all spread out for tea. 



"What is it?" They scream, "Will it eat us, I wonder?"

They rise in a second, cast china asunder. 



I climb out of bed, kick the covers away. 

"Don't worry, I've just HAD my supper!" I say. 



The monsters peep out and blink wee eyes at me. 

"You're full, then?" They ask, "You won't join us for tea?"



"No, thank you," I say, "but I WOULD like to know, 

Do you folks eat children?" They laugh. "Heavens, no! 



We like to eat teacakes and warm gingerbread!" 

I sigh and crawl happily back into bed. 



So, now I don't worry. These monsters are small, 

and, (Aside from snatched teacakes,) do no harm at all.