Monster Mash
When wind howls like a banshee to fill the dark night air
and monsters lurk in closets or in creakings up the stair,
when your brother knows they’re out there––these creatures he can’t see,
when nightmares wake you up at night and you have to pee
but daren’t leave your bed in fear those creatures will come “getcha”
(all those night-born monsters that come out at night to fetch ya.)
It’s times like these when all the kids form a small tribunal
and determine that their parents’ bed should be declared communal.
A scary night poem For NaPoWri Mo
lifelessons - a blog by Judy Dykstra-Brown 
I was never afraid of monsters, but would wake up afraid that the house was on fire. There was a child’s poem about porridge overflowing the pot — one night I awoke in fear that burning porridge was flowing down a hill and into my bedroom! Don’t know where that childhood fear came from!
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I just read a poem I wrote a few years ago about that very fear… It was fiction on my part, though, as I don’t remember having nightmares about fire. Perhaps I was seeing your dream!
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I found the poem”
Peas porridge hot
Peas porridge cold
Peas porridge in the pot
Nine days old
Some like it hot
Some like it cold
Some liike it in the pot
Nine days old
Amazing what scares a small child!
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This was what set up fears of a house fire in your head? Yes.. amazing what you translated it into…
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I think what it set up was more the idea of a river of porridge flowing into the house — being hot in bed, I then dreamed that the porridge set the house on fire! Still pretty amazing!
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What an inventive dream! Good for you.
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It’s one of only 2 from my whole childhood that I remember!
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Wonderful. So smile worthy
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Haha! Indeed, Judy. Mine would invent excuses to get into our bed.
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I was afraid of an illustration in my mom’s Grimm’s Fairy Tales. In my nightmare, he chased me around my bed. He looked a little like the image on this post. I only remember going to their bed once and they were smart. They made sure I was VERY uncomfortable there.
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To get to my folks’ room, we had to walk down a long, dark, narrow, enclosed stairway. So I can’t remember doing it much.
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The tunnel of dread…
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So well written Judy. The parents bedroom is the first place they seek after a bad dream
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I was just glad the kids didn’t declare their parents’ bed a urinal!
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The parents were happy about that as well.
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Your poem brings back memories! I can see the old farm house…the “little house” across the yard at the woods’ edge…and me a girl about four, having to go in the wee hours. 🙂
I remember the scary darkness, making my way out there alone. But there was no thought of cheating — Dad wouldn’t have stood for that. (Mom had moved to town for work.) I was more afraid of his anger!
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