Author's note: This pasta is based on events I actually experienced. Certain elements of the story might not be true, but the basis for the story is.
I think I was four. A year before I began school. I was a little behind everyone else in my perception of reality. So I would see things that weren't there occasionally. But I know I saw this.
I woke up to nothing. Or so I thought I did. I sat in my bed for around thirty seconds, trying to discover the source of my waking. Nothing. Just as I was about to give up, and fall back into sleep's beckoning hands, I heard a faint creak. My door opened by a small amount, and in shone a very eerie light. It seemed as if it was a light from a flashlight. I assumed the power was out, seeing as how we lived in southeast Louisiana, and it seems as if every storm causes a power outage.
"Was this my mother checking on me in the height of the storm?" I wondered. I beckoned for her to enter, but the light immediately disappeared. Thinking nothing of it, I fell back asleep.
The next day, over breakfast, I recall casually inquiring to my mom as to why she did not come into my room when I beckoned last night. She seemed immensely confused, and slightly nervous. She turned to my dad, as if to ask, "Do you know what he's talking about?" He looked similarly confused.
"What are you talking about, son?" she asked.
"Last night," I said. "During the storm." As if it was obvious.
"There was no storm last night..." my dad said, completely bewildered.
"Well, there was someone with a flashlight looking into my room last night. ", I remarked.
My mom's expression immediately went from confused to scared. Her and my father walked into their room and closed the door.
I heard them talking about me, or more specifically, my "condition", and my dad telling her that I was probably imagining it. She didn't seem completely convinced. My dad told her that if it made her feel better, we would install an extra deadbolt on the front door. And that was that.
Many years passed almost without incident, the only thing worth noting would be the constant nightmares I would have about the light. My kindergarten teacher remarked to my parents that I seemed bothered by something. When asked, I would launch into a story about the light, and they would disregard me, probably thinking, "Well, he does have a condition".
Two years later, in the middle of the night, I woke up again. Just as the last time, nothing noticeable seemed to be the source of my waking. But then, the door opened again. Recognising the situation, I tried to look away and fall back asleep. But two, bright, oblong eyes shone through the door. I felt uncontrollably drawn towards them. I couldn't help but stare at those eyes. I immediately sat up, and stammered,
"Please come in, I want to see you, so I can tell mommy what you look like!"
The following event will be forever implanted into my memory. It walked in. But it didn't have any legs. It just floated. Its torso and arms completely black, almost transparent against the darkness of the room. It had no facial features, except for its eyes. Its eyes seemed to have a telepathic influence on me, beckoning me to walk to it. I obeyed its command. I walked toward it, and as I did, I felt extremely tired, almost unbearably exhausted. My vision started to blur, and I couldn't feel my legs. And when I touched it, I blacked out.
I woke up the next morning, in my bed, under the covers. The first thing I thought, felt like it came from outside my body. I thought, "Do not tell."
Even at my young age, I understood that not telling someone would be my best possible course of action.
I still feel that feeling occasionally. My legs will fall asleep, my vision will blur, and I'll feel very exhausted. Then I'll black out. I'll wake up in my bed the next morning, and think, "Do not tell."
Part One of the Bright Eyes Series
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