You feel me. You know I'm there. It's that sense that all young ones have with our world. Yes, our world. There are many like me.

Follow up:

Your parents? Of course they think you're being foolish. They think the things they remember were nightmares, nothing more. Oh how very wrong they are. Their memories? Reality. Their own parents, with their freakishly real nightmares, hushed them and told them it was only imagination. Your fate will be the same, and the very same will happen to your own children.

I smile, chuckling low and raspy, when you call for your parents. They both come in, and I can sense that they're alarmed, but not overly so. They have a good guess as to what is distressing you. They check the closet as you ask. You insist that there's a monster here. They roll their eyes, or want to, kiss you on your cheeks and go back to bed. Not before warning you that you'll get a spanking if you call them in again, of course. You're still whimpering, but you go to sleep.

I slowly come out from my hiding space, breathing on your cheek, and you squeak and wake with a jolt. I'm gone before your tiny eyes can even adjust to the dark. I laugh and you duck under the covers. Even if it's hard to breathe, you think it'll keep you safe. I know where you are. I can't reach you, but I know where you are. I sit at the very end of your bed, licking my lips, just waiting. You're a nice and plump child, aren't you? Good for eating. You grab a flashlight and I slither away just in time, merging with the shadow of a toy, to make you think that that's all you saw. You stand up and look in your closet, not wanting a spanking from your parents, but wanting security in knowing that nothing is in there. I could grab those ankles of yours' and pull you with one sure pull, eat you up or turn you into one of my own, but that's far too easy.

You get into the bed again after looking in the closet. I laugh in your ear, tongue lolling out to dangle and drip saliva on your face. You foolish child.

I was under your bed all along.