Look at me. What do you believe me to be? A monster? Perhaps a demon. Possibly even a spirit, ghost, ghoul, spectre, or some other fantastical invention born of human imagination. I assure you, this is not the case. I existed long before monsters. I am older than any god. Older than matter, than light. Older than anything that has ever been in your universe. Before gods, and matter and light, there was nothing. And that is what you may call me. Nothing. I am the unknown and the unknowable, the formless, and the liminal. I am the feeling of being watched, and the moment before you die. Do you feel unease? Are you not waiting for something, anything to happen?

This is how I enter your dimension. You think you see a shadow move, laying alone in the dark and on edge from campfire stories your kind has told since you first formed words. It is not the shadow you should fear, but those moments you stare with straining eyes, searching your mind for what monster may be watching you.

But as you well know, I am no monster. There’s Nothing there, you sigh with relief, not knowing how right you are.

And yet, even Nothing cannot exist in perpetuity. It takes energy to sustain. The heavy unease of waiting, of the unknown. I add it to my existence, or nonexistence, as it were. Every moment of tension, every feeling of unease, the unshakable discomfort of not knowing what will happen. I am made of menacing dark alleys, the nervous glances parents give to strange children, and the fleeting sense of movement from the corner of your eye.

Humans are the easiest for just this reason. You are the perfect combination of imagination and susceptibility. How do you suppose those campfire stories started? With the most minor influence, I can harvest your discomfort. I can absorb all that precious Nothing said between lines. Just as when a child changes, seemingly overnight, and his parents worry. But don’t say anything. How could they? It must be a phase, they think to themselves. And I can consume their silent worry for many years to come.

So you see little one, when your mommy said there was Nothing under your bed, she was precisely right.