When I was very little my mom told me stuffed animals are here to guard and protect you from the monsters, not just the ordinary scary monsters in the closet and under the bed, but all the monsters. The ones you imagine, the ones you don’t, and the ones that wait quietly for the right moment.
She told me something else important too. When you’re happy, when your chest feels too full of laughter and warmth to hold it all, you charge them. Every hug, every secret whispered into soft fabric, every time you fall asleep holding them close, that energy goes into them. They store it. Save it. And when you’re sad or scared, they give it back.
That love not only comforts you, it’s what powers them. It helps them stay awake and aware to protect you all night, every night.
I took that very seriously. Every good day meant extra hugs. If I laughed a lot, I’d make sure to squeeze each and every one of them before bed. Ber Bear, Pumpkin Kitty, Spot Dog, Hoppy Rabbit, Roary Lion, and too many to list, with new ones added over the years. I’d arrange them carefully, like guard posts placed strategically to cover every possible line of monster attack.
Ber Bear stayed closest to me because Ber was the strongest and we’d been bestest friends for a very long time. Hoppy Rabbit watched the closet because Hoppy was the fastest and because everyone knows the closet monsters are sneakiest. Spot Dog lay at my feet guarding the end of the bed because Spot could easily scare away regular monster visits and alert the others if the under-bed monsters were ever to mount a serious attack. Pumpkin Kitty watched over the entire room from the top of the headboard. Roary Lion faced the window, I didn’t know why exactly, but it felt like an important job, especially fit for the King of the Jungle.
I slept easier knowing they were ready.
And most nights, nothing happened.
Chapter 2
But not every night.
There were nights when the air felt heavier, like the room itself was holding its breath. Nights when the shadows didn’t sit still, when the darkness in the corners seemed deeper than it should be. Those were the nights I’d stir awake a little, not fully, just enough to know something wasn’t right.
One night, I remember opening my eyes just a little and seeing the shape under my bed shift. Not a full movement. More like… something adjusting. Like it had been there for a while and was getting comfortable.
My heart started racing so fast and so loud in my ears I was afraid the monster would hear it too.
I didn’t move.
I didn’t dare make a sound… then from beside me, I felt a faint pressure. Ber Bear, tucked under my arm, seemed to press back. Not like something falling or sliding… like something steadying me, holding me firmly in the bed in case the monster made any sudden moves. I still felt scared but more secure now.
Across the room, the closet door clicked softly. I couldn’t see it fully from where I was, but I heard it, a slow, careful creak. And then something else. A shuffle. Small. Quick. Closer. I forced my eyes open just enough to look.
Hoppy Rabbit wasn’t by the closet door! Hoppy wouldn’t just wander away!
I was startled when I saw the small quick monster was hiding in the shadow of the barely open closet door, peeking out like it was waiting… maybe?... watching and listening to me… I think.
Another shift came from under the bed, much sharper this time. Before I could even react, Spot Dog slid down from the mattress. Not falling but carefully placing herself like a barrier to keep under-bed monster in check.
Hoppy Rabbit was back! He was beside the nightstand, carefully watching where the small quick monster had retreated into the closet so only his little monster eyes glowed eerily in the deep shadow. Then suddenly the thing under the bed stopped moving. The silence that followed felt deafeningly loud.
Chapter 3
The next morning, everything was normal again… or at least it tried to be.
The bed was slightly messy, like always. The closet door was now closed tight. Sunlight filled the room.
Spot Dog was still on the floor carefully watching under the bed. Hoppy Rabbit now sat halfway between the bed and the closet. Pumpkin Kitty was missing from her usual perch, later found in the closet still smiling like a striped orange Cheshire like she always did, making me wonder what happened to the closet monster. Roary Lion was turned completely around and facing the bedroom door, even though I was sure he was facing the window as usual. I wasn’t sure exactly what happened last night but obviously my fuzzy guardians chased the bad away again. I made sure I gave them all hugs and love to thank them plus a recharge for later… just in case
The strange feeling from that night faded by the next day but I never forgot it. It made me feel scared and safe at the same time, knowing we could face any monsters.
Chapter 4
One night, several years later, I woke up with that same feeling from when I was a kid… that quiet, wrong presence in the room.
As I lay there, staring into the dark, older now, more rational, telling myself it was nothing. But the feeling didn’t go away. It got closer, slowly, patiently.
And then I noticed something that made my chest tighten. Across the room, in the dim light… my old stuffed animals were not where I had left them earlier that day. They weren’t scattered randomly. They were now in a line across the middle of the room, all facing the same direction. All facing the door. Watching and waiting intently for some unknown dread. The doorknob rattled but didn’t turn. I froze… my heart pounding in my ears just like long ago. After a few minutes that felt like hours, the dreadful scary feeling stopped. Like whatever it was knew it had been noticed and quietly warned. I grabbed Ber out of the line up for comfort, and sleep came quietly and quickly.
The next morning, I almost convinced myself I imagined it… almost. Until I picked up Ber I was sure he felt heavier than normal but not with physical weight exactly… something else… something familiar. Love and comfort given freely back and forth as needed.
Chapter 5
As I got older, I stopped talking about it. I didn’t stop believing. I just didn’t need to say it out loud anymore. Besides, too many people outgrow those wondrous things and call them childish. But I know your inner child is an important part of you that never goes away therefore needs to be acknowledged and nourished. It’s where wonder and imagination come from and who doesn’t need more of that?
There have still been nights when things felt off. Not monsters under the bed anymore… something quieter, harder to explain. Bad dreams that didn’t feel like dreams. That heavy, creeping feeling you get when your mind won’t slow down and the dark feels too big.
On those nights, I still reach for one or two of them, pulling them close to chase the dream-monsters away. Not a whole bed of them like when I was little, often just Ber but some days Ber requires backup. They all still feel comforting, a bit of that comforting ‘home’ feeling that can sometimes feel elusive. They’re all a little more worn now, but so am I. They’re old friends who’s been there all along, and always will be.
I don’t think my mom was trying to explain monsters. I think she was trying to explain something else. That love doesn’t disappear when you give it away. It stays. It waits. And sometimes… it stands guard.