Kissing my son goodnight, I tuck his covers tight and turn on his night light. “Wait,” he says. “You’re forgetting something.”
I stop, a little confused, then remember. “Do you really need me to do that anymore?”
“Please… just one more time. Check for monsters under my bed.”
As I kneel down, I lift up his soft comforter and peer into the dark. My heart catches in my throat. I’m staring at my son, and he’s staring back at me – silent but quivering.
“Daddy,” he whispers, “There’s a monster in my bed.”

Must continue the spooky story?