The Beast – The Real Story

4^th grade was really wearing me out. There were just so many things that I had to worry about: boys, math, boys, writing in cursive, boys, science experiments… oh yeah did I mention boys? It had been a long and tiring day and I felt like I deserved to take a little siesta on my bed, in my room, in our nice cozy basement of my family’s house in American Fork. I had been hesitant to move down into the basement at first but I didn’t let anyone know. My best friends Meghan Johnson and Melynne King were already on the move to their basements so I couldn’t be the only one who stayed up stairs with mommy and daddy. Before I was allowed to move into the basement I had to prove to my parents that I wouldn’t be petrified during the night with them two levels away. So I valiantly grabbed a sleeping bag and my teddy bear (Alexander) and trudged down the seemingly endless stairs to what was then ‘the craft room’.

There has never been a night in my life that has been quite as long as that night. I became more and more jumpy with every creak of our 5 year old home and every car that passed by leaving shadows on my wall from their headlights. Needless to say when the sun finally rose and my family was bustling about the house getting ready for the day I was very intimidated by the thought of moving down stairs and I knew that I didn’t want to do it by myself. I began formulating a plan in my head of how to get around being the sole basement occupant. My brother Andrew being only two years younger than me was the perfect candidate to move into the dark abyss of a basement with me. It didn’t take much convincing him when I so kindly explained to him that he wouldn’t be cool if he stayed up stairs with mommy and daddy. So after a couple days of moving and getting everything set up in our new rooms Andrew and I were now the proud new inhabitants of ‘our basement’.

Now back to the day at hand. As I was lying on my bed trying to salvage any amount of laziness that I had lost throughout my busy day I heard a bustling coming from our playroom which was at the bottom of the stairs and in between Andrews room and mine. Knowing that I would never be able to relax until the basement was quiet I went out into the family room to tell whoever it was to quiet down.

The scene before my eyes was quite hilarious. My mom, Andrew and my younger sister Stephanie were all in huddled together in the playroom and they were all eyeing the staircase. I looked over to the staircase and saw a huge hairy spider sitting on one of the steps. Around said hairy spider were many toys that had been thrown at the spider in a futile attempt to smash it without getting close. My mom related to me later in life that she was too afraid to throw a soft baseball bat at it because she was afraid it would land close to the spider and ‘pop’ the spider up and in our direction. I, of course, joined in the huddled mass at the bottom of the stairs due to my extreme arachnophobia.

Hours later when my dad arrived home from work he walked in to an empty house. He called out for his family and heard faint yells from the basement. Upon investigation he found us in the exact position we had been in hours earlier. He swiftly killed the spider, which had moved only inches from its original spot, and relieved us from our vigilant posts.

And then he laughed. And laughed. And laughed.