The Darkness That Lurks

Those eyes. I could feel them piercing through the darkness. The invisible stare felt like a pair of hands snaking out from the source. I could feel those invisible hands, they slithered over the hills and valleys of my comforter until they touched me. Those ice cold hands curled around my body as if to crush the life out of me. The fang-like fingers reached up to grip my throat and began to dig into my skin, making it hard to breathe. It was as if the abyss was personified; the anxiety alone threatened to suffocate me the longer the standstill went on. Sweat began to cover my palms and my eyes darted over to my bedside lamp. I had made up my mind that the only way to escape this dread was to illuminate the darkness. Would I be quick enough to turn on my lamp before whatever was in the dark could strike? I braced myself and turned as quickly as I could toward my lamp. Hand outstretched, it felt as if the darkness was rushing toward me- my eyes shot open as I gasped for air. I was covered in a cold sweat as I looked around my room. It was now dawn, and the room had slightly brightened. It was only a dream?

These kind of dreams have been an common occurrence these days. I am a fiction writer who works from home, so I wonder if this is the culmination of the stress I'm under. After trying and failing to go back to sleep, I finally surrender and swing my feet over the side of the bed. I looked down at my feet, feeling weary, when I noticed a large bruise that stretched the width of my foot at an angle. The bruise was recent considering it was deep purple and burgundy. This had also become a common occurrence. I would find bruises all over my body that just didn't make any sense. I've never been someone to bruise easily and I would have remembered an event that would have caused such bruises. I decided to push the incoming thoughts of deadly illness aside and go make breakfast.

After breakfast, I sat at my desk, laptop open and ready. I usually sit for a while and words start to flow, but today is not one of those days. Writer's block is a bitch. I slumped over and rested my head in my hand, feeling drained, when I suddenly hear the doorbell ring. I walked over to the door and open it to reveal a box wrapped in brown paper and topped with a bow. That's odd. I looked to see who may have dropped it off but there is nobody within a block's distance. I looked back down at the weird package and decided to bring it inside to find out what it was. Walking over to the couch, I turned the box over, but found no note and carefully opened the package. Wrapped in several newspapers, was a book. A small, leather-bound, black book. It was worn and tattered but when opened, the first page was pristine and blank, as if it had never been opened before. Turning through it's cream colored pages, I realized that just like the first page, not a single mark could be seen. How strange, I thought, that this book appeared to be decades old yet never used. I was nearing the end of the book when a folded piece of paper fluttered out onto the floor. I picked up the paper and unfolded it, revealing a letter written in exquisite cursive writing.

“Hello, dear receiver of this book.”, The letter began. “I have found you worthy of this task, so this book is now yours for the taking. You may be wondering why there is nothing written, well that is because this book is unlike any other. Whenever a fresh pair of eyes is presented with this book, all that was written previously, disappears. It resets.

This book is a strange one. One that writes its own story, and knows what goes on in that head of yours. This book is powerful and will use whatever means necessary to drag you through the depths of despair. So powerful that I have searched high and low for someone who is up for this paramount task. I beg of you, it is of utmost importance. Find a way to destroy the book for good. Before it takes you with it.

Good luck,

S.”

Confused by what I had just read, I turned the page over looking for anything else that may have been written. I even skimmed through the pages of the book once more, but there was nothing. Normally I wouldn't be fazed by something that seemed so silly and trivial, but the eerie strangeness of these past few weeks had me on edge. I left the book on the coffee table and walked back over to my desk. I may as well use this incident to fuel my writing, and began to write about a magic book.

I was in the dark once again, and this uncomfortable feeling of being watched burned into my skin. It felt as if there were eyes surrounding me and those cold hands returned, slithering towards me. I knew I needed to run, but I was paralyzed, my feet glued where I stood. They latched onto my feet and slowly made their way up. The hands coiled around my body, as they began to tighten and constrict my chest. I was finally able to move, but I knew it was too late. I was trapped in their grasp and tears began to fill my eyes. Through my blurred vision, I saw a pair of glowing eyes appear before me. I blinked and hundreds more appeared. These were the stares that I felt in the dark. These eyes that could see right through me, these eyes were the eyes of predators.

The cool breeze of a summer thunderstorm blew across my face and rain splattered onto me from the windowsill. I suddenly awoke, my eyes wide open, searching for the creature from my nightmare, but I was alone in my chair and the room was dark. I had fallen asleep at my desk. I tried to blink away the image of the eyes that had been burned into my brain. Taking deep breaths, I realized that I could hear the drum of the rain. I turn to see that the window behind me had been opened. My eyes went wide again. I didn't open this window. I turn my head quickly, looking in every direction in case someone had broken into my house. It was then that something caught my eye. I slowly looked down at my desk to see the old leather bound book, laid open as if saying "Read me". I distinctly remembered leaving the book closed on the coffee table but alas, here it was. As if on cue, writing began to appear on the page. My hand instinctively drew to my mouth in distress. The letter wasn't lying. This was a strange book indeed. Reluctantly, I leaned closer to read what had been written.

"Hello," it wrote. "Did you like my grand introduction?" The writing was beautiful and delicate. The juxtaposition with my current situation was enough to send shivers down my spine. "Stop being a coward and face me directly. Come closer and face your fears." It wrote.

I stood there bewildered. What the hell was this? It did not make sense. None of this made sense. Why me? Why now? What exactly was this book wanting? And most importantly, how do I destroy it?

"You fool. You honestly believe that you can destroy ME? I am your worst nightmare. And I am growing tired of these games of cat and mouse." Again, I was taken aback. This meant that the book could hear my thoughts, it was already inside my mind. "I've played these games so many times before. Sometimes it is nice to switch things up. I even had the last one thinking that he had escaped, only for him to beg for his life in the end. How deliciously tragic. Don't you worry, I'll make sure that your death is swift and painless. Much like a snake bite". I could swear that I heard the darkness let out a deep growl of laughter and just seconds later, lightning struck and the crack of thunder followed, filling the room. I jumped and trembled from the sudden affirmation that this wasn't just a book. An evil entity was attached to this book. The hair on the back of my neck stood up and my unusually dry throat tightened. "It is already morning. I'll leave you be for now... See you tonight." And then the writing stopped.

I backed up against the wall and slid down until I was curled up on the floor. My tears started flowing and I pulled my knees to my chest. I laid there in the fetal position for a while and finally pulled myself up off the ground. What was I supposed to do? I had no clues on how to fight this darkness. What if I burn the book? No. That would be too easy. I suddenly remembered that I had a safe. What if I locked the book, along with some rocks, inside the safe and threw it into the river? Maybe it could work. I rushed over to my closet, digging through the shoes that lay on top of it, and took out the safe. I emptied it of my money and documents and carried it to my car. For good measure, I packed my lighter in my bag as a last ditch effort to make sure that the book was gone for good. Book in hand I ran out the door, started my car, and drove as fast as I could towards the river two hours away.

Once I arrived, I set all of my materials on the bank of the river and opened the book. Nothing appeared on the pages and I took this chance to rip them out as fast as I could. I placed the rocks and book, along with all of its pages, inside the safe and took out my lighter. Slowly I let the flame pass over the pages, making sure that they caught fire. I let it burn for a few minutes before closing the safe and standing up. All of my stress and fear turned into rage as I lifted my foot onto the safe and kicked it into the river. The tears returned and I fell to the ground. Was it finally over? Though I was weary, I felt that I had to get as far away from the book as possible and got back in my car. The sun was beginning to set.

After dark, I pulled into my driveway feeling a bit relieved but still fearful of the possibilities. What if it didn't work? With this thought in mind, I cautiously unlocked my door, stepped inside, and turned the light on. I gasped in terror as I saw all of my books pulled from their shelves, and their pages strewn around the room, my furniture lay toppled over and broken. I turned toward my desk and to my horror, on top of my desk sat the safe, covered in mud. I let out a wail and ran back towards the door, tripping in the process. All of a sudden, hands slammed down onto the floor on either side of me and I knew it was all over.

"Hello again." It smiled with a grin too large for its face. "Oh my, you look like a scared little bunny, trembling and everything... Shhhh there there." It whispered cunningly. "I'll be sure to make this quick for you. I do, however, really enjoy this part. The thrill of the kill."