I’ve always believed that another world exists under my bed. Since that cold winter night my sister told me that there were bears and snakes in the attic of our new house and that a witch lived next door, and since I was old enough to watch Disney channel original movies such as “Don’t Look Under the Bed,” I have suspected that the boogeyman and his people have set up camp in my room.
I cannot in good conscience stand directly next to my bed because I fear that a cold, grimy hand with four-inch, curling, black fingernails will slowly reach out, snatch at my ankles, and pull me into Boogeyworld for all eternity. No, I never stand right next to it because the dark space between the bed frame and the floor, embellished by the shadows of the night, gives me the heebie-jeebies. I must spring onto the bed from at least a foot and a half away at night and in the morning jump off the bed in the same fashion. This routine has kept me safe throughout my life.
I asked my parents to buy me a dresser last year to store some of my stuff, and they told me it would be more efficient to just put stuff in baskets under the queen-sized bed they had given me. They thought there was ample room for storage; I thought there was ample room for Boogeyworld. My parents thought I was crazy for still believing in the Boogeyman as a teenager, but when they stole my closet door to use elsewhere in the house, I was secretly glad I didn’t have to check there anymore before I went to bed at night for any unwanted visitors. My parents doubted my belief and told me the boogeyman didn’t exist, but I still won’t store stuff in baskets under the bed. I just leave stuff all over the floor instead. My parents hate looking at it, but that is just the price they have to pay for their skepticism.
I believe that if something cannot be disproven, it should not be doubted. I think Santa Claus does exist. And who’s to say Hogwarts is a fantasy school? J.K. Rowling made it clear that muggles can’t see it, so muggles don’t have the right to doubt its existence. I think I can safely say that there are no bears or snakes in my attic, but maybe Hermione and her muggle parents live next door. And no one has ever proven that the boogeyman does not live under my bed, and therefore no one can tell me he does not. Everything has the right to exist. This I believe.
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