There’s a Monster Behind That Door

By Elaine Knudtson

There’s a monster behind that door.

Shhhhhh. . .

I can see light creeping underneath like the tongue of a snake ready to strike.

It’s too quiet.

He’s waiting for a chance to pounce when my back is turned.

Danger!

Don’t walk too close.

Back away slowly; maybe he won’t hear me or smell my fear.

My breath is shallow, my heart pounds, my mind races:

What if. . . 

• What if I can’t complete my quest?
• What if I fail the test?
• What if I throw up or stop breathing, or faint?
• What if he has friends waiting behind other doors to join him when he whistles?

I’m trapped by the monster behind the door.

Why don’t I knock and ask his name?

No!

If I name him, he’s real.

If I ignore him, he might disappear,

Or I could distract myself.

I could solve a puzzle,

• or run a few laps
• or check my phone
• or plan a party
• or play the piano
• or listen to a story.

If only the monster wasn’t there.

Can you rescue me?

“Whatsoever things are good, and beautiful and pure; think on these things.”

• I might see another sunrise
• I might dance in the waves
• I might pray with friends
• I might cry when the choir sings
• I might rest when you hold me
• I might live again.

Has the snake lost his head?

The tongue has exploded into a ribbon of light,

pointing me away from the monster,

towards the peace that passes understanding.