[ WP ] Monsters under the bed exists and the world knows . This is your first night at a new job : the nightly security guard at the local bed store

Night at the Museum, Five Nights at Freddy's, The Monster Under My Bed… Those were all works which flashed through my mind as I made my way through the emptying parking lot. The store was technically closed, the last customers filtering out. When I told my friends what my new job was, they thought my uniform looked a little light on protection. 
 
 I awkwardly gripped the handle of my baton, the closest thing I had to a weapon besides a flashlight and trusty swiss army knife. I wondered how much use I could get out of the bottle opener if I was a bit sneakier with my lunchbox. Appearance-wise, I looked a little like a stereotypical rent-a-cop, although with a dark black uniform rather than white. 
 
 Slowly, I approached the older, balding man at the front door. He watched me for a moment, finally speaking as I hit the sidewalk. “ You ’ re early. ” He observed, smiling at me. 
 
 “ I like to make a habit of it. ” I replied. “ You can ask my last few bosses about it. ” 
 
 “ Good to hear. ” He offered me a key. “ I wish we still had someone to show you the ropes. ” He commented, frowning. 
 
 I took the key for myself. “ I ’ ll take it easy, I watched some youtube videos to get a basic idea. ” 
 
 The manager nodded, stepping past me. “ Just do my heart a favor and be here in the morning. ” He replied. 
 
 And so I was left alone before the glass doors of ‘ Beds+ ’, as the sign above me read. I entered slowly, eying the quiet store, the closed checkouts. It was somewhat like a Home Depot, resembling a warehouse. Most of the beds were in boxes, waiting to be assembled. But above them, lining the aisles, were display models. Technically, each display could have been outfitted with a proper cage, and my new job would mostly be moot. But customers remembered a time when beds could be sold at your local wal-mart, when the empty space below them could be used for storage. And so, classic consumerism demanded the beds be shown as they were packaged. 
 
 That was before the closed-room murders, before the missing children. It was before the videos went viral. I had seen the first one posted on my social media feed at least twenty times, and the screams of the kid behind the camera still rang in my ears. I locked the door behind me, and made sure the spotlights covered the sidewalk. 
 
 I reached into my lunchbox, pulling out a can of coca-cola. Popping the cap with a satisfying fizz, I took my first sip of what was sure to be a long night. A mental checklist played through my mind as I began to make a quick round before the lights automatically turned off. 
 
 Check the store for any straggling customers or loiterers. Make sure the security room is secure, make sure the light in the security room is working, check all the cameras. I settled into the comfy chair in front of the monitors just as the store went dark, the sound echoing from beyond the heavy metal door. Leaning back, I tossed the empty can to the side, beginning to watch the feed before me. 
 
 The first one only took a few moments. Large clawed hands dragged it into view, an odd number of legs unfolding and lowering it onto the floor. It was large, too large to fit beneath the bed. I thought to the papers I had read, the attempts to follow these monsters back to wherever they hid. Monsters, that was the only word for them. Nothing was uniform between two specimens, nothing about them made sense. 
 
 I sat back, watching as they filled the aisles. It was surreal, like watching another universe ’ s version of the store while it was open. A strange raptor-like creature rummaged through some boxes, a massive purple bear… thing made its way to the doors, eying beyond the glass. A girl crouched behind some pillows. A green eyeball bounced atop a display bed. 
 
 Wait, girl? I quickly cycled back through the views, and spotted her again. She was skinny, her hood pulled over her head. But I had checked the store. She maybe could have hid in the restroom, but why? And then I noticed the duffle bag hanging from her arm, nearly empty. 
 
 Did she want to rob us? Was this crazy bitch trying to rob a bed store at night? I stared blankly as she made her way closer towards the checkouts. Swearing, I stood up, making for the door of my room. I opened it quietly, retrieving my flashlight. The noises of monsters echoed around the store. I remained quiet, understanding why my uniform was black as I inched through the darkened aisle, going almost straight for the registers. 
 
 I heard a sound like someone shaking a vending machine, and I could see her. A gray hoodie with its back to me, seemingly fighting with a cash drawer. 
 
 “ Ma ’ am. ” She froze at my voice. I was quiet, but I wanted to believe I sounded assertive. “ I ’ m going to have to ask you to stop and come with me. ” She didn ’ t react beyond stopping. Slowly, I closed the distance, reaching and tapping her shoulder. 
 
 Have you ever seen a lamprey eel? The ones with the faces that are just a swirling vortex of teeth? Imagine that paired with the scream of a banshee, like the worst youtube prank you ’ ve ever seen. Her hood wasn ’ t a hood at all, it curved into her ‘ face ’, if you could call what this screeching beast had a face. She lunged for me, and I shoved my flashlight forward, shining the bright light on her, as much as I didn ’ t want to look. 
 
 She screamed louder, ducking and moving away from me. I nearly fell backwards in my sudden scramble. Sprinting, I ignored the sounds of monsters moving towards me, flashlight flailing in my mad dash. I rushed through the metal door, turning as I slammed it shut. The toothy maw of eel girl flexed, like she tried to make one desperate lunge at me. Frantic, I looked the metal door as claws and fists and bodies began to hit it from the other side. 
 
 Panting, all I could do was fall backwards into my chair, listening to the banging. I checked the clock, and figured there were at least six more hours to go. 
 
 I reached for another can of soda slowly. I would definitely need to start sneaking in those beers...
