[ WP ] The monster under your bed is protecting you from something much worse .

There's a monster in my room. 
 
 Or not my room, but the room that I happen to live in. It is a small room with pink sparkles that dot the walls and a chest in the corner that hold the toys of the small child that currently sleeps in this room. A nightlight shines softly a corner, keeping the darkness and nightmares at bay. It is the shape of a cheerful little fish with blue scales and big, happy eyes. It seems to be saying `` Hey! No monsters are allowed here! Beat it!'' If only it worked. 
 
 From under the bed, I hear something shift in the closet. The weak light of the night light is just barely enough to illuminate it. Peering through the crack is a dark blue mass of fangs and claws. A single piercing grey eye stares out from within the shadows. It is smiling, and light reflects off of its long, sharp teeth. It stares, almost amused at me, and I hold my ground staring back. 
 
 Two monsters in a room, fighting over a little girl. Every night when she sleeps, I will come out of my spot under the bed and he out of his in the closet. We stand in opposite corners of the room; I next to the toy chest and he against a pink dresser with Disney princesses painted along its sides. In this lighting, it looks like Jasmine is giving him a scathing look, and I smile to myself. Each of us dares the other to attack first, and see who will come out victorious. What we are fighting over is control of her dreams. 
 
 Children are clay. They are soft, fragile, and easily molded. They are filled with unimaginable potential to do good and evil. Children are most susceptible to ideas and thoughts in their dreams, where they wo n't remember where an idea or concept came from. It will sink in, and become a part of them. So I and the other monster fight every night for control over her dreams. He is much stronger than I am, but I am clever. We are both silent. The battle last on average two minutes, with us quickly slashing at one another, trying to inflict as much damage as possible. At the end of the two minutes, one of us is too drained to continue, and we wait for the next night. The victor sinks new thoughts into the child's mind, and throws out those we do n't see as necessary to their growth. 
 
 We are both hideous and scarred from the fighting, and both think we are doing what is best for the child. He believes she should be free spirited, uncaring, and follow every temptation. I think that she should be composed, reliable, and down to earth. Not all of his ideas are terrible, not all of mine are brilliant. But we know for certain that the other is wrong in the way they mold the child. All I can do is hope that what I am doing is correct, and pray that he does n't do too much damage on the off chance that he is triumphant.
