"What do you do for the monsters under your bed?" Owen asked, his eyes wet with tears, his nose red.

"Oh, I simply sing a poem to him." His father smiled, rubbing his arms as he comforted the scared boy.

"What poem?" He asked, curious.

"It is a magical poem that calms the monster so they don't scare me, as they scared you." Mister  Kimbel answered, wiggling his eyebrows at him.

"Can you teach it to me?" The boy asked, his eyes gleaming, more from the excitement than the still tears.

"I could, but it's a tricky poem," he warned him, "It's easy to learn, but the singing is hard."

"Why?" He asked more amused and curious by the minute. He quickly sniffed away his tears and looked at his father in fascination.

"You have to whisper it to yourself, loudly enough to let the monster hear it, but soft enough to not let the poem escape your room."

"What happens if it escapes?"

" An escaped poem is like a mosquito for the monster. When the monsters are about to go to sleep, the poem would start buzzing around their ear, keeping them awake by their silly whining."

"What happens if the monster remains awake?"

"Two things. Firstly, he becomes grumpy and starts grunting loudly which will make it hard for you to sleep. Secondly, the poor monster becomes very ill from sleepiness and he becomes thin and weak. So promise me, you will sing this poem wisely."

"I promise." Owen wrapped his pinky around his and grinned.

"Okay then." The dad cleared his throat and began to sing:

"Monster, monster under my bed,
Hush now, let the night set.
Let me sleep under the moon,
For tomorrow I have, to head to school."

"But you don't have school," The boy piped.

"Well for me, it ends with- For tomorrow I have, a job to do."

"What if it is Sunday?" Another question was asked.

"On holidays, the monsters are good friends. You can talk to them about all your troubles and they will quietly listen, save the occasional growls to tell you they are still listening. But remember, monsters have delicate ears, so talk to them softly or they will get upset."

"But what if I don't wanna talk? What if I am too tired?" He insisted.

"Well then you sing :

Monster, Monster under the bed,
Tonight no words will be said.
Sorry, I just don't want to talk,
So sleep with this poem and have a sock."

"

Have a sock?" The boy was confused.

"Yes, monsters love socks, if they eat one, they immediately fall asleep."

"Really?" Owen grinned with wonderment. 'Monsters eat socks? Who would have thought?'

"Yes," his father chuckled," why else do you think a single sock gets lost in the laundry? It's always a tired monster who takes it to eat it and fall asleep."

"Wow." His grin grew bigger at the thought of a monster sneaking in to eat a sock."How wonderful!"

"Indeed." His father smiled, tucking the boy in his bed and kissing his forehead. "Now sleep dear boy, and sing the poem if the monster bothers you. Okay?"

"Yes!" He shouted happily.

"Good. Good Night, little one."

"Good night Dad."

When the door closed, Owen looked around his bedroom. The moonlight shone through his window and painted his room in a shiny grey. It was quite dark but he could see enough. The monster, it seemed, had fallen asleep from the poem for he couldn't find him anywhere.

"Goodnight, monster." He spoke quietly under his breath as he closed his eyes, deciding to sing the poem one last time just to be safe.

------------

Owen woke up in a start. He was sure he had heard a loud crash somewhere. He looked around the room but couldn't see anything lying on the floor, or broken.

He slowly got up from his bed and slowly walked towards his window. There, he stood up on his toes and pressing his face to the glass, looked at the street. The city was quiet except for the occasional city noises of cars and animals.

"Hmm." He squinted his eyes at the empty road. The pavement was too far down to get a good look so he decided to open the window.

He went towards his study table and dragged his little chair to the spot. Then, stepping on the wooden furniture, he unlocked the window and pushed it open.

The cold fresh air tickled his nose, making him chuckle. He then peered out but saw nothing.

Satisfied, he slowly pulled the glass back when he saw a reflection of a cat on it.

He turned around and saw two blue eyes staring at him. He crouched on the chair to get a better look.

"Aren't you going to close the window?" The creature suddenly spoke, startling him. The chair tumbled under his feet as he fell back, out of the window and onto the street.