Underneath

by Dandereshy

Rating: teen
Tags: Original Character, Horror, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark
Length: 1879

Just a short creepypasta -- an original take on a classic fear.

A young foal tells her father she fears the bizarre noises under her bed at night. The father just shrugs it off as her wild, young imagination.

It's not.

Audio reading by Sparrow9642

Audio reading (featured on EQD) by Grim Narrator

Published 2020-06-19 03:50:00 UTC
Last updated 2020-06-19 03:50:00 UTC

Just Your Imagination

"But Daddy, I'm not ready for bed yet!" scrawny little Mazy complained to her father, who sat on the sofa reading a week-old newspaper. There was always something he missed, so he often reread them just in case.

Mazy hopped on the furniture beside her dad as he closed the paper on one side to give her a stern, fatherly gaze. In return, he received puppy dog eyes from his begging daughter.

"It's ten after nine, Mazy. You know your bed time is nine."

Mazy sighed with a heavy heart. She always hated bedtime. Not just because, as any foal her age, she had loads of energy and wanted to stay up and play, but because of the problem she'd been having the last few weeks.

You see, Mazy had begun hearing unholy, terror-inducing ambience from under her bed after bedtime. It occurred only after about an hour of lights out. Of course, her father had always reassured her that it was nothing more than her overworking filly imagination. She believed him -- at first.

Imposing the good thoughts her dad had suggested she think when the strange noises began, she had hoped it would eliminate the noises. It only made things worse. Little by little, the noises grew stranger and more threatening. Of course, she had told her father this, and he merely scoffed. He didn't believe her. Nopony did.

She had told the foals at school. The teachers, her mom when she visited -- everypony. Not a single one of them believed there was something under the poor filly's bed, which only addled her even more. If only she could get some kind of proof...

Tonight was likely to be no different. She would insist that her dad do something about it or she'd take forever to fall asleep again. The noises did eventually stop, but only after about a half hour. It was terrible to sit there, curled up in a fetal position while some ghastly ghoul under your bed taunted you in the pitch darkness. Her dad didn't have to do it, and neither did any of the other ponies, so why should she?

Her father sighed and set the newspaper he had been reading on the dark stained wooden and very cluttered coffee table before him, folded up. He slid to the edge of the cushion and onto the floor. "Listen, Mazy. We can't keep doing this every night. I already told you whatever it is you think you're hearing, it's not there. Okay? Now come on," he said, jerking his head in the direction of her bedroom, which was down at the end of the hall to the right of the living room. Mazy hesitated for a long moment before swallowing the rock in her throat and slowly making her way to her bedroom, where her dad had already flicked on the light and went inside to make up her bed for her.

Mazy went to her room and hopped into her soft, pink-themed bed at her dad's request. He sat on the edge of the bed and gave her a concerned look, his eyes searching hers as she stared up at him, shivering with what he thought was unfounded fear.

After sitting in silence with her for almost a minute, he spoke softly. "Mazy, I know you think there is something under your bed at night. This used to make me smile, because I too thought something was under my bed when I was your age."

Mazy looked away, embarrassed. When she looked back to her dad, she asked, "But?"

Her dad took a deep breath and let it out in a long, drawn out fashion. "But it isn't funny anymore. You've been obsessing about this 'demon' or whatever for weeks now. It's time to grow up. There's nothing there, and I don't know how many times I have to check under your bed for you before you sleep to prove it to you."

"But there is something under my bed, Dad! It's there every night and I will prove it to you, tonight!" Mazy insisted, throwing back her covers to get out of bed, but her father's stiff foreleg blocked her path like a stone wall.

"Ah, ah, ah... where are you going Miss?"

"To get something. I was gonna get that proof!"

Her father shook his head. "No, Dear. No more," he stated firmly as the little filly drooped in disappointment. "You're going to bed, and there will be no more talk of monsters after tonight. I have a feeling your mom is very displeased with you bringing it up every time she comes over. Her visits are few and far between, so you should enjoy those times instead of talking about monsters. Understand?"

As much as she didn't want to, she acceded, giving him a single nod and averting her eyes from his, feeling ashamed.

"Good girl. Now, off to dreamland with you," he said, kissing her forehead gently before standing up and moving for the door.

But Mazy's brain hatched an idea. "Dad, can you get me a glass of water before I go to sleep please?"

Her dad stopped in the doorway, and without turning, he replied, "Sure, Honey. Hold tight."

The instant her dad disappeared down the hall, she knew she had a limited amount of time to execute her plan. Without missing a beat, she flung her covers back for the second time that night and jumped out onto the floor, careful to land as quietly as possible. She made her way into the hall, where she moved straight across into her father's bedroom. She knew just how to get her proof, and that was to use her father's camera that he kept in his dresser drawer. It had a motion capture function they had used to find out what was heartlessly devouring his vegetable garden at night a few months ago, but he had never used the camera again to her knowledge. She snuck back into her room with the camera and hid it under her pillow, then assumed an innocent, angelic pose while she waited.

Right on cue, her dad trudged through the doorway and delivered to her a tall glass of ice cold water from the fridge. "There you go, Sweetie. Anything else?"

The filly shook her head and took up the glass immediately to keep up the ruse.

"Okay, I'm going to bed now. Early shift at the factory tomorrow. You know where to find me if you need me." He stopped in the doorway and smiled warmly at her, his hoof on the light switch. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Daddy."

With that, the lights went out, the door clicked shut, and Mazy wasted no time getting the camera out to ready it for capturing the creature that plagued her. It took her a moment of fumbling in the dark, but eventually she figured out how to operate it. She set it to motion capture and placed it on her hardwood floor, facing the ominous darkness under her bed.

She sat back up and snuggled under the covers, pulling them up to her chin and peering into the blackened room.

It didn't take her long to find herself shivering, thinking about the noises she'd soon be suffering through. But tonight would be different. Tonight, she'd get proof. Nopony else would mock her, belittle her, or call her a liar. The noises were not products of her imagination, and tonight she was going to prove it once and for all.

Shooting a nervous glance at the round analogue clock on her wall, she saw that it had already been about half an hour since the lights went out. With a sigh, she waited, fearful but determined.

Finally, she heard it. It started with a low crackling noise, like somepony was slowly moving a rolling pin over a hoofful of saltines. Shivers ran up her spine, and she dove under the sweet protection of her covers.

It didn't take long for the sounds to mutate into something more sinister. Scratching, clawing noises, like something was trying to get out from under her bed, but was trapped. The hair on the back of her neck stood up on end as she curled up, hugging her knees to her chest and shaking like a leaf, her breaths fast and loud.

Then, the squelching, slapping, and intermittent screeching noises arose. Whatever evil and caliginous force was at work just beneath her, it sounded like it wasn't amused, like she had done something to annoy it. These noises were much more intense than usual, and Mazy found herself beginning to panic as the bed took on a barely perceivable vibration.

Then, a bright flash lit up the room as a bolt of lightning from outside would if it were a dark and stormy night, and the telltale whirring of the camera sounded. But it was quickly overshadowed by the pig-like squealing of the monster that lurked below.

The bed jolted and jumped, causing Mazy to fumble for something to grip so she didn't careen off the bed into the gaping maw of the angry beast. She would have been screaming bloody murder if it weren't for the fact that she had excitement battling her fear. The camera had taken a picture, and all she had to do was wait until the noises left her, and she could retrieve her well-earned evidence.

A strange, sulphurish, putrid odor rose in the air, and the hellish entity continued its rampage, screeching and clawing and crackling -- until it stopped all at once, randomly, and suddenly.

Mazy didn't move, lying in the middle of her bed, tangled in sheets and blankets. All that could be heard was her frightened, heavy breaths and the quiet, rhythmic ticking of the clock.

She waited, counting slowly to one hundred as she had been taught recently in school. Then, she emerged with extreme caution, taking a breath of fresh air after having nearly suffocated in her own blankets. The room was dark, eerie, and silent. The curtains, half open, let the pale moonlight stream in, illuminating only a small portion of the room and casting a peculiar, wavy shadow on the floor at the bottom of her footboard. She glanced around the room rapidly, but she saw no signs of trouble or imminent danger.

Taking a deep breath, Mazy peered over the edge of the bed, spotting the camera right where she'd left it. A little white square poked out the front, towards the bed. The picture.

Mazy swallowed hard, her mouth dry as cotton, and reached down for the camera, expecting something terrible -- like a tentacle, or a grotesque, clawed hand -- to reach out from under the bed and pull her to her doom. But nothing happened, and she grabbed hold of the camera, yanking her foreleg back up like she'd just touched the hot stovetop.

She removed the picture from the camera and held it up to eye level, waiting for the quick film to develop.

As the image faded into existence, the weak smile fled from her face, and her blood ran cold.

"...D-dad?"

Author's Note

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