Creepypasta #405: How Big is Your Head?
My mattress is narrow, single sized with room for only myself. I used to have a lovely queen sized bed but that was before.
How big is your bed?
She asked me while we shared a bench and waited for the bus. I thought she might be soliciting me at first, but then she went on. Trapped by unwritten social conventions, I had to stay put and listen. Her eyes were bloodshot and the bags under them could have passed for bruises. It was clear she hadn’t slept for quite some time.
She told me that we get used to luxury far too quickly. We take for granted the electric lights, the sturdy walls and security systems of our houses. The plush couches, the big, wide beds. Human beings have only lived like this for a very short amount of time. We forget that things weren’t always like this, that the world wasn’t always ours alone.
There are stories of monsters out there in the dark, crawling on the fringes of our well-lit civilization. They want what we have. They have always wanted what we have and now we have so much. They knock on our flimsy doors and ask permission to come inside, to have a taste of what we gorge ourselves on.
Permission must be given for them to enter but not all invitations are verbal. For example, she said, when I approached this bench you moved to one side. A silent invitation to sit down. You made room and that is an invitation.
How big is your bed? How much empty space is there? Enough for someone else to get in beside you? Do you roll over to one side in the middle of the night, do you think? Do you make room, a silent invitation?
Credits to: daydalia