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A myth submitted to the site by Lyuba Kovacheva

Burgas, Bulgaria

Once upon a time, there lived a boy named Charlie.

Charlie wasn’t smart nor was he brave,
and he didn’t misbehave.
But here’s the tale of an unfortunate boy
to whom dreams gave no joy.

In the daylight he would not play
he preferred to read all day.
But as the day came and passed
his loneliness didn’t last.
As his age begun to grow,
he started feeling like Edgar Alan Poe.
For his raven didn’t fly away
not even until this very day.

His mother would kiss him on the cheek
and with his voice soft and weak
he would beg for her to check
for monsters under his bed.
And so she did, every time,
but only darkness there would shine.
But when the bedroom door was shut
that boy was simply out of luck.
Dancing shadows would appear
and play their terrifying songs, that only Charlie could hear.
He would cry and shake
until the morrow would awake.
Then the creatures of the night
would hide in plain sight.
This is how the boy lived his days and nights
and he started telling white lies.
So his mother would not fear for him
but he was living on the brim.
He got so tired, he could not sleep-
his monsters would always creep.
One day he could not care less
he wanted out of this odd mess.
So when the Sun hid, he did not-
he decided to give bravery a shot.
So when his monsters came out to play
Charlie stood in front of them and his fear he did not obey
“Go away!” he spoke so clear
and here it’s where it gets interesting, my dear,
for you probably think this tale has a good end
but I’m not one for happiness, my friend.
After that, no one saw Charlie again-
only in the morning -a blood stain.
So let me make the message clear -
don’t fight your monsters, live with them, my dear.

By Lyuba Kovacheva
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