One night, as Ginger was getting ready for bed, a tiny whisper of worry crept into her mind.

It had been a perfectly ordinary evening. Ginger had brushed her teeth, put on her favorite  pajamas, and climbed beneath her patchwork quilt.

But just as she reached for the lamp, she remembered something someone had once told her.

Monsters lived under beds. Ginger looked over the edge. The space beneath her bed was dark. Very dark.

“What if there really is a monster under there?” she whispered. Ginger knew monsters weren’t real. At least, she was pretty sure they weren’t real.

Still, sometimes her imagination had a way of turning shadows into strange shapes and ordinary nighttime sounds into mysterious things.

She switched off the lamp and pulled the quilt up to her chin.

For a while, everything was quiet. Then…Creak... Ginger opened one eye. Creak... creak... She opened the other.

Then came a sound from underneath the bed. Thump. Ginger sat straight up. Her heart did a little jum She listened carefully.

Nothing. “Probably just the house,” she whispered. Then—Scritch... scratch... That was definitely not the house.

Ginger considered calling for someone. Instead, she took a deep breath. She had always believed that when something frightened you, it was usually better to find out what it was than to spend the whole night imagining what it might be.

So Ginger slowly crawled toward the edge of the bed. She leaned over. Just a little.

The darkness beneath her bed seemed to stretch forever. “Hello?” she whispered. Nothing answered. Ginger leaned farther. And farther. Until her hair nearly brushed the floor.

Then she saw them. Two enormous yellow eyes staring back at her. Ginger froze. The eyes blinked Once. Twice. Then something moved in the shadows. Fuzzy blue fur. Two little horns. Big furry paws. And a snout that twitched.

Ginger gasped. The Under the Bed Monster!

For several seconds, neither of them moved. Ginger waited for the monster to roar.

The monster waited for Ginger to scream. Neither happened. Instead, the monster opened its enormous mouth.....and yawned. It was such a long, sleepy yawn that Ginger forgot to be frightened.

“Oh,” she said. The monster blinked up at her. “You don't look very scary.” The monster frowned. “I can be scary,” it said. Then it tried. “Grrrrrr.” The growl was so small and squeaky that Ginger couldn't help smiling. The monster sighed. “I haven't had much practice.”

Ginger lowered herself onto the floor and sat beside the bed. Now that she could see him properly, the monster didn't seem frightening at all. He looked tired. And perhaps a little sad.

There was a toy truck beside one paw, a ball near the other, and one of Ginger's missing books tucked beneath his furry belly. Ginger pointed at it. “I've been looking for that.”

The monster looked embarrassed. “Sorry.” He slid the book toward her. Ginger picked it up. Then she noticed something else. “You look kind of lonely.” The monster stared at the floor.

“I am,” he mumbled. “Then why do you stay under my bed?”

The monster pulled his paws close to his chest. “I just like the quiet under here,” he said. “It feels safe.”Ginger thought about that. She understood how a quiet place could sometimes feel comforting.

“But aren't you afraid under there all by yourself?” The monster nodded. “Sometimes.” “Of what?” The monster looked up at her. 

“People” Ginger's eyes grew wide. “People?”

“They're very unpredictable.” Ginger giggled. “Well, monsters are pretty unpredictable too.”

The monster considered this. “That seems fair.”

For a moment they simply looked at each other. Then Ginger held out her hand. “Would you like a friend?”

The monster stared at her hand as though no one had ever offered him one before. Slowly, he reached out one enormous blue paw and gently touched her fingers. “I think I would.”

Ginger smiled. “Good. But we need some rules.” The monster sat up straighter. “No growling after bedtime.”He nodded. “No eating my books.” Another nod. “And if you're going to live under my bed, you have to help me find things that disappear under there.”

The monster glanced around at the toys, socks, crayons, and other treasures surrounding him.“That could take a while.” Ginger laughed. “That’s okay. We have plenty of nights.”

She climbed back into bed and pulled up her quilt. The monster settled into his cozy place underneath.

After a few minutes, Ginger leaned over the edge again. “Are you still there?”

Two yellow eyes appeared in the darkness. “Yes.”

“Would you like to hear a story?” The monster's eyes brightened. “Yes, please.”

So Ginger opened the book he had borrowed and began to read.bHer voice drifted softly through the quiet room. Before long, the monster's eyes began to close. Ginger's did too.

Ginger never worried about monsters beneath her bed again. Because every evening, after the lights went out, two yellow eyes would appear in the darkness.

Sometimes Ginger told him a story. Sometimes he told her one. And sometimes they simply whispered about all the things that seemed frightening until you were brave enough to look a little closer.

Because Ginger had discovered something important that night.

That sometimes, the scariest things turn out to be the ones who just need a friend.