The following events are written in a woman’s POV:
When I was a kid, I used to have nightmares about this creature who lives under my bed. Every night the bed would rumble and creak, I would see six long, black hairy arms extend from underneath the bed, three on each side. Momma says to count sheep and drink my milk but it’s kinda hard to count sheep on your fingers when a giant demon is breathing on your face. I stayed curled up like a ball under the sheets and pray to Papa Jesus to help me stay through the night. But the monster wouldn’t run away, he’ll stay. But he never touches me. As soon as I chant my prayers, his arms tremble around me. He’d go to one side and claw at the floor. That piercing sound from the floorboards would sting my ears and make me pause from praying to cover my ears. He would pull himself out under the bed and climb up the wall and all the way up to the ceiling. His growls and breaths echo through the room. I never come out of the blankets but I could see his shadows through the cloth. I would continue praying and I could listen to him wailing from the pain. I tried to peep once and I knew right after it was a big mistake.
His eyes are green with veins protruding on the sides. It glows in the dark filled with lust and hunger. His muscular arms clutch onto the wall, a pair of legs become his fourth pair of limbs. His body’s covered in spiky hair. His mouth was drooling with acid and his voice sounded like souls in despair. His teeth are crooked but sharp nonetheless. His nails drive through the walls with ease, only to have me see no trace of them in the morning should I survive. That one time I looked. That one little time I peeped to see if he was gone. He lunged at me. The bedposts broke on his weight and force. I feel my back slamming onto the mattress as the bed collapses onto the floor. Then I scream. At the top of my lungs…
… And then, it was all gone. It was morning again. I lived to survive the terror another night. There eventually came a time when I curled up with my parents every night just to escape the haunting dream. But those precious breaths-of-fresh-air were short-lived as I had to go toe-to-toe with him once more when my little brother was born.
“Save me…”
Those were the last words I heard from my mysterious visitor when I turned eight. My extended hours at school gave me comfortable night sleeps. Even on vacations there were usually trips out of town and we would be sleeping somewhere else. When we were at home I usually would have played all afternoon making me sleepy for the rest of the night. Such events led me to forget about the past and make me embrace the future even as an 8-year old. But I know, in the back of my mind, he… was always there….
~sage~
I’m so psyched that PL’s finally back. It’s like a taste of home I could never brush off from the back of my mouth. Some of you guys probably know me. Well, who gives a shit. Anyways, it’s my first time writing something horror-themed so take it easy. And yes, this is intended to be a sexual series so if you can’t hold on for that 500 or so words I don’t think you should be reading at this site at all. That’s a mean start, but you guys get what I mean 
I won’t be posting my older stories here anytime soon since I wanna start with a clean slate.
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