Always Be Afraid of the Dark

"Good-night my sweet" Mum once said to me, "don't let the bed bugs bite". I watched her close the door, leaving me alone in the dark. At 10 years old I was finally experiencing life in my own "grown-up" room, no longer sharing with my younger brother. I would've been excited if it wasn't for the set of yellow eyes staring at me from the far corner. My mum burst in before they could get much closer, taking me in my arms as I finally stopped screaming.

I wish that had been the only time I'd experienced that, but instead for many years after I found myself afraid of the dark. I would beg mum not to shut the door when she’d said good-night ever again, then screaming my head off when she did, once again seeing those bright beady eyes in the corner. I’d cry until she eventually conceded and left the door open, letting light into my room. No one ever believed me, dismissing it as the usual fears that a child my age would experience. They would laugh or ignore me when I mentioned those sinister eyes. Even with the lights on, I thought I could see them in the shadows.

"You must've just had a bad dream," Mum told me one time, she smiled sympathetically and tucked me into bed again. The light turned on and the door kept ajar, I was at ease with the short beam of light bringing me at least a sense of safety. Just as I was shutting my eyes I noticed a set of pearly white teeth smiling below a pair of beady yellow eyes, peaking out from behind my door in the shadows. I knew it couldn't get near me, but that didn't stop the staring contest I held with it till I eventually passed out from exhaustion.

The hopes from my family were that I would eventually grow out of it, that I’d learn that there was nothing to be scared of. A part of me also sought solace in the hope that I would one day stop being scared. This never happened. Instead, I became more aware of the dark, wondering if there was something hidden there that I was somehow aware of. Maybe it was this hidden entity that scared me as a child and through my teenage years. Therapists tried to help me face this debilitating fear; talking me through what they thought could be the issue. Question after question was asked, I opened up more about my life, hoping that one of the many stories I told them would eventually reveal the reason behind my fear.

It is only now that I realise every attempt to stop this fear was fruitless. There was nothing that could be done to remove the fear, as it was this that kept me safe for many years. Until now.

I've been sat in my room for most of the night. The old house creaks and groans against the howling wind outside. Only one candle is left flickering its orange glow from the window-sill. The others that I placed around the room having burnt down to nothing, leaving nothing more than a whisp of smoke. No longer am I comforted by the sound of people moving around next door, or the odd car driving past the house. Instead, the world is silent, succumbed to the darkness that no one else feared but me. I watch the candle dwindle away with tears in my eyes, knowing what is to come.

Darkness. I'm unsure if my eyes are open or closed. The creaking has gotten closer now, in the room with me. From the direction of my door is that pearly white smile. The mouth shuts and the beady yellow eyes appear at the foot of the bed. They blink. There is a weight on the end of the bed. I breathe heavily, not wanting to move. I heard rumours the last thing people saw was that smile, I just wasn't expecting it to be as close as it was.