It was all because of something she had read in the
Bible…words about common dust. Not the kind of grit people in the old stories
piled on their heads when they were sad or bad or mad; but the kind the
Almighty first scraped together in his muscular hands, and then blew on with
his everlasting breath to make a man.
For you are of dust,
and to dust you shall return…
But I was only four and too little to understand the
connection when, one day while she was cleaning the house, Mama looked under my
bed and declared, “Mercy, there’s someone either coming or going under here!”
Like most children, I had my suspicions, but now Mama had
confirmed it: those same dust balls that grew mysteriously under my bed when I
wasn’t looking would keep on growing into fearful, inhuman creatures with dusty
hands, dusty fingers, and dusty claws that could reach out and grab my ankles
as I climbed into bed at night. No nightmare in the closet could compare to the
one I now believed was lurking beneath my bed. I soon began catapulting myself
across the room and into bed like a young pole-vaulter in training. Step, step,
stride—and than a long shivering leap into the middle of the mattress. Even then, I didn't feel completely safe.
When I stayed in
my sister’s guesthouse recently, I returned
to the cottage every night after dark. Before washing up and changing into my
pajamas I opened the shower door, the cleaning cupboard, and the clothes closet
to make sure I was alone. Last of all I kneeled down on the carpet to check
under the bed. Odd. I never do that at home.
"The thing under my
bed waiting to grab my ankle isn't real.
I know that, and I also know that if I'm careful to keep my foot
under the covers, it will never be able to grab my ankle."
~ Stephen King ~
Bible quote from Genesis 3:19
