Under The Bed

• Georgia Coward-smith, Grade 8
• Short Story
• 2013

I ran under the small bed with its perfect pink doona cover. Laughing at myself, thinking how funny I was I rolled onto my back until I was perfectly in the centre. The carpet was scratchy yet soft under my small, warm body. The room smelt of old people; talcum powder mixed with mothballs. I could hear my grandfather’s steps coming towards the room I was hiding in. “Georgia…” he called my name. He walked into the room and I could see his brown leather shoes standing at the foot of the bed. I laughed again and put my hand over my mouth so that he wouldn’t hear my small, childish giggle. “Dinner’s ready…” He called, before quickly leaving the room to search another. I crawled out from underneath the bed and sniffed the air, trying to determine what I would be feasting on; chicken, I could virtually taste it. My eyes travelled out the glass window, seeking the comfort of the stars that shone bright. I turned around and ran to the kitchen, smiling at my grandad. “Where were you?” he asked. “Under the bed.” I laughed, sitting down at the dinner table.