MIDNIGHT MUNCHIES
ANNA TAYLOR
CREATIVE NONFICTION AWARD
I awakened to the sound of a fierce howl. I shot up from my pillow in a cold sweat, my fleece blankets stuck to my skin. My bedroom was dark; shadows lingered among the walls and lurked within the corners. I looked at my clock that was conveniently resting on top of my nightstand: 3 AM sharp. There was a dog barking outside, and I wondered what might have disturbed it at this time. My head whipped to the side, and I looked around, I must have heard a furious growl. A burning discomfort was felt in my stomach. Could it be the monster I have been warned of many times before? Could it possibly be the late-night munchies? ‘Chocolate… peanut butter… Hot Cheetos…,’ was all I could think. I shuddered as I felt a chill in the air. ‘Ramen… cheese… Doritos…,’ was all I heard. It felt as though I was being called; as if a greater force was driving me to something that I have never known before. I immediately knew that insanity would take over me. The insanity was bound to happen if I decided to remain there, or even if I went back to sleep. It was coming closer with each second I waited. ‘Brownies… Sprite… nachos…’ I had to get out; I had to leave. I pulled back my blankets and planted my feet on the floor. I flinched when I felt my rabbit slippers brush against my toe, thinking it was some kind of creature. I hurriedly put them on and hopped off the bed. My floor creaked when I took a step. It soon became a priority to make as little noise as possible, for my mom could become quite cranky when awoken. My dresser loomed over me, casting a shadow in the moonlight; my only source of light in the dim room. With each step, along came yet another creak from my wooden floor. It was as if every tiptoe was a hammer falling to the floor. I could feel my pulse beating harder and harder in my chest with every movement. All else was still and quiet; too quiet. I almost tripped on my carpet, grabbing onto a nearby bookshelf just in time to steady myself. Unfortunately, the shelf snapped, hurling a cluster of books to the ground with a loud ‘crash!’ I took a deep breath—inhale, exhale—then continued my quest of reaching the door. It opened with a painfully loud ‘squeeeaaaak!’; but I was finally out. The thought of beyond-midnight snacks still lingered in my mind, urging me towards what was forbidden at this hour.
32 | THE UNSPOKEN