Monster Creative Writing

As I lay wide awake, intently staring at the rough popcorn ceiling, a fear ignites in me and my young imagination starts running wild. I begin to get more frightened as I think about what could lie beneath the enormous space between my box spring and the shaggy off-white carpet. I think of where I could go to escape this nonexistent monster I’ve drawn up in my mind and immediately sprint to my parents’ bedroom as if the monster is racing me. I run into my mom’s arms nearly in tears of terror. She then comforts me and I feel safe again. Exhausted and slightly still upset from my ‘traumatic’ experience, I drift off to sleep laying between my parents.
Nearly minutes later, I jolted awake from the blaring ringtone of my dad’s phone. He reached

I heard the frantic, shaky voice you get when you’ve been crying for too long. She explained to my dad what was happening as he threw on his shoes and ran down the stairs rapidly to see if my uncle was still alive. My dad pushed through the baby gate at the end of the stairs with indescribable force, tearing a hole in the drywall and scuffing the surrounding paint where the impact was.
“What’s going on?” My mom exclaimed in an intensely loud tone that clearly displayed her concern and

My parents did not tell me what really happened to my uncle for years. Whenever I would ask about uncle Robbie, their eyes would look away suspiciously and repeat the same words they have always, “He got into a bad car accident…” as if they were hiding something from me. Just ten years of age and curious about the uncle that had started fading away from the memory, I asked my mom how he died and if there was something else to the story. My mom told me about his depression and his unexpected death. My uncle committed suicide by locking himself in the garage and letting the car run. They told me I was too young to know about his death and they didn’t want to put those ideas in my head, so instead they told my siblings and I he got into a tragic car accident and died. Once I found out, I could see the strain it put on my whole family even after all of those years after his death. I started to see how it impacted my family. My grandma kept pictures and his belongings all around her house and my dad despised the reminders of his death whenever we visited her house. They didn’t bother me, the pictures comforted me. The mere thought of uncle Robbie made me