Monsters are based on perception.

The monster lurks just around the corner.

It’s a ridiculous thought, yes, but one I am certain of.

The monster doesn’t come often, only on quiet nights when all you can hear is your own breathing. Unfortunately, tonight is one where not even the cicadas join me in my attempts at slumber. It comes as no surprise that tonight its gaze rests on me.

It twists and turns under my curious gaze. As a child, the monster used to scare me. Now I wish I knew what lurks behind the corner, but it refuses to show its face. Something that I know for certain is that it is a coward. Never once has it revealed its true self.

Maybe that’s because it knows that if it did, I wouldn’t be scared of it anymore. Or maybe the monster just doesn’t like its face. If that's the case, then I’ll tell the monster that I think its face is pretty. Just like daddy used to do when mommy cried. However, the monster won’t believe me if it continues to hide around the corner. It would know I would be lying because I would have never seen its face. How would I know if it's pretty?

I used to try and give it names. When I was five it was Sara, at seven it was Sam, at nine I refused to acknowledge it, now it’s just the monster. It never seemed to stay the same thing for long. The changing forms used to mess me up as a child, I thought they were all different monsters. I got better at identifying it as I grew. I could recognize it for what it really was, a monster. Yet, monster never meant bad in my dictionary, just different.

People said I was a monster too.

When I moved a week ago I thought it was gone for good. The night I went to sleep with only the harsh winds accompanying me was when I noticed it was gone. I tried to look for it. The attic, the boiler room, the bathroom in the basement that is never used, it was gone. I was free of the monster.

Why didn’t that make me happy?

The monster never did anything, never talked, never played, never hugged, it just stared from around the corner. Although, its company was comforting. It was always watching over me, almost like it was protecting me while I slept.

I like the monster, I think it would be a good friend. Friend is a much nicer word than monster. I want my friend to come back. I miss my friend. Did I scare it away? Maybe the new house was too hard to find. What if it’s lonely now? It’s not nice to abandon your friend. Would that make me a bad friend?

I went to sleep again with the monster. Despite looking all over the house for the millionth time, it still didn’t show up. It was too quiet with it. The sounds of rain and thunder outside sounded louder than usual without its quiet presence. Without anything to watch, my gaze drifted over to the small alarm clock on the nightstand. It ticked slowly from five to six, to seven, to eighth, then nine. However, the minute hand stopped at nine. I didn’t notice it at first. I watched the second hand go around five times before I finally realized. By that time the storm outside had quieted too. A prickling feeling climbed up the back of my neck. I knew what that meant.

When I turned in bed to look my friend in the eyes, it didn’t run. It stared back at me like always, but I could see its face. It wasn’t a scary face, just a scared face. It made me happy that it was finally okay with me seeing it. It looked like it was waiting for something, so I called out to it.

“Hello, friend,” and the monster said hello back.