There’s a Monster in my Closet

I stared in the eyes of a monster.

Its skin was pale as white as a ghost.  Its limbs were long and gangly, like tree branches that reach out towards me when the wind blows on a chilly night.  The hands were creepy, with veins protruding as if worms crawling under the skin.  Its fingers were frail, undeniably cold to the touch.  The face was hideous, holding nothing but a blank deceitful stare.

Suddenly, a voice ran through the walls, “Honey!  Dinner!”

“No thanks mom, already ate.  I’m not hungry!”

I pulled away from the mirror and closed the door.




A little context, I wrote this a couple years ago for a contest.  Inspiration came from having the women in my life explain their struggles of body image and mental health, especially growing up and through certain ages in their lives.


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