“It’s bad luck to be superstitious.”

- Andrew W. Mathis

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I used to believe in bad luck, and so bad luck happened to me. I used to believe in monsters too, then I learned they can only get you if you believe in them. Same principle.

The portal from their world to ours (and as far as I can tell this is where bad luck comes from too) shows up in closets most often. It’s a small closed space with a doorway, to an extent it makes sense, besides that, it’s where we all believe they’ll come from.

The very first monster I ever saw was a small thing, crouched next to my bed, with a mask for a face. It had no features, except for overlarge luminous eyes and as I looked into them I felt my whole being shiver and buzz as if it was trying to disconnect itself from my body. I don’t know what the lanky thing wanted, but it left soon enough, through my window though my window though, not my closet. It’d come through my shed.

At six years old I was terrified of the shed monsters and all the bad luck they brought with them, and I continued being terrified of them until I was sixteen and we moved into our new house. I convinced myself the house was monster free. That they, for whatever reason could not go there, so I was safe. To be safe you must feel safe.

Not that any of this is real, of course.