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A Girl and The Dark

by Frem-J 3 months ago in surreal poetry · updated 2 months ago
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The fear of a thing is often worse than the thing itself.

A Girl and The Dark
Photo by Marten Newhall on Unsplash

The darkness used to excite the girl.

Mysterious, eerie, thrilling, all at the same time. Welcoming. Comforting.

Not now, though.

Now, the darkness intimidated her.

Cold. Lonely. Enemy.

Now, it hid things from her. 

Evil things. Hungry things.

And now, the girl was afraid.

She froze as she heard the noise again.

A quiet rustling behind the cupboard door, barely audible over her rapidly pounding heart.

Fear washed over the girl as she recognised the sound, shivering with a familiar sense of dread.

Something was behind the door.

Some Thing.

It. Them.


But how can this be? The girl wondered, as confusion mixed with the terror coursing through her body.

The Guardians of Mortein had only just visited recently to perform the annual Raid.

...And they never missed one. Ever.

And yet...

She heard it again! Louder this time.

More earnest. Arrogant. Fearless.

The girl was frozen in terror, sweat beading from her brow, stinging her eyes as she peered through the inky blackness towards the door. 

Towards It.

The girl used to be excited by the darkness. Intriguing. Playful. Friend.

Not now, though.

Now, the girl wished for the Dawn.

Wished for the sunlight that would defend her against It. Sunlight that would reveal its hiding place. It's malevolence. It's ugliness.

But dawn was still hours away...

The girl glanced around quickly for a weapon. Something. Anything.

But the darkness offered no succor. No sanctuary. No defense...

But then she saw-Yes! There! On the table! Could it be...?

She squinted through the gloam, scanning the murky outline of what could be her only salvation this night.

Yes! A weapon! A square object about a foot long and as wide. 

Flat, only a few inches thick, with squared edges.

And heavy.

The girl smiled then.

A flicker of hope glowing and growing inside her, melting away the terror that had paralysed her only moments ago.

The girl moved quietly towards the table.

Graceful. Silent.

She gripped the weapon. Its heaviness comforting in her small hands.

The girl readied herself. Steadied her breathing.

Her grin spreading wider. 

Determined. Confident. 


A tingling, familiar feeling washed over her at that moment.

'Oh hello, Darkness. My old friend', she whispered, smiling lovingly. 

She was still sweating, but now in gleeful anticipation of what would come next.

 The girl was no longer afraid.

She slowly stepped back, blending into the deepest shadows of the room.

No, she was no longer afraid.

The darkness hugged the girl closer, a comforting friend once again as she waited, poised. Armed.


"I am ready", her voice strong and clear.

She was ready.

Ready for It.

For Them.

For the Roach.

surreal poetry

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