I would wake up in my bed, with darkness in my room, and though I could see through the crack in my door that the lights in the living room were on, I heard no sound: no dishes being washed in the kitchen as my mother sang, no sister laughing at Vines in her room, no TV blaring sitcom laughter and no neighbours practicing their piano as dogs barked. I couldn't hear the crickets chirping, my father on the phone out in the backyard and the cars that passed by our streets with their engines softly groaning.
I am not afraid of monsters. I am not afraid of games where animatronics jump onto the screen crying for my blood. I am not afraid of a girl standing in the corridor with hair over her face like she came from The Ring. Monsters I could fight, games I could quit, and I have come across my sister many, many times in the dead of night when she's heading back to bed after raiding the fridge for snacks. This, on the other hand, was not something I could turn away nor raise my fists at, and the knowledge would always leave me cold to the gut. My skin would rise in goosebumps, and I would get tunnel vision, and there would be a dryness to my mouth that made me want to lick my lips, but I don't because I am afraid that if I do I might just end up tasting my own fear, and if that happened I would be no good to me.
I would drag myself away from the bed and leave my room, and though it is my house, it does not feel like my home anymore. I would feel like a stranger, and I would be chilled to the bone. I would walk softly, half-stooped as I place my feet where I knew the floor would not creak and as I do I can't help but think I am being watched. At this point I want to be anywhere else but where I am. I want noise, but I do not dare to make it myself. I want someone to be with me, but I fear someone already is.
I would make it to the living room. The lamps would be on but they would be starting to flicker ever so slightly. The TV would be on but the screen would be nothing but a sea of static in constant motion. At that point, I would feel nauseous. I would feel dizzy. I would feel a cold breeze blowing into the room.
I would see that the front door's open, hanging out and swaying.
Then I would be terrified.
I would run, scrambling in panic to it, my chest hurting and my throat tight. As I reached it, I would stare outside into the night, and see someone staring back at me. He would be at the gate and he would be running as I try to swing the door back in. I don't know who he is, what he is and why he's here, but I know I am not safe. He has a hood on, and I was always taught to fear those who had reason to hide their face from the world.
And no matter how fast I am, no matter how hard I try, I am always too slow. I'd blink and he would be close, too close, and he would lunge and wrench the door out of my grasp and back open and I'd feel his gloved hand grab my collar as his heavy breath scorched my face.
Then I would wake up in my bed, with darkness in my room and a scream in my ears.
Thank you for reading. Sweet dreams.
640Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡGksiNESIlW
