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Fear of the Darkness

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The darkness. We have all feared it at some point in our life. Whether you were a small child, or an adult, you still feared the unknown, the darkness. We often don't know what it is about the darkness that induces fear, and it is better off that way.

It all started on Christmas break. It was the third day of break and I was as happy as can be. Between the fact that I finally got a break from the seemingly endless work and that I was about to get tons of presents in a few days, you would expect that from a teenager.

It was around noon and I was home alone. My parents were out shopping for Christmas presents and my 11 year old sister, Kathy, was at her friends house. It was nice to have the house to myself. I could watch T.V. without my mom ordering me to turn it down, and my sister couldn't bug me. It was nice. 

I was about halfway through an episode of Family Guy when I heard a loud thunk from upstairs. It was a dull noise, almost like punching a wall, but much louder. I ignored it, thinking it was something that had just fell off my crowded dresser, and continued watching the episode. Around five minutes later, I heard it again. Except this time, it was slightly louder. I grabbed the remote and pressed pause, freezing Peter in the middle of his sentence, and I went to go investigate.

I didn't think much of it, but I just wanted to know for sure what had caused the noises. When I reached the bottom of the stairs, It was completely dark upstairs, which was strange in itself because it was the middle of the day. Luckily, we had two light switches which activate the same light; one at the top of the stairs, and one at the bottom. I used the one at the bottom, and the stairway was illuminated by the overhead light. I climbed up the stairs, each step I took caused an eerie creaking noise you hear in horror movies right before a jump scene. 

At the top of the stairs, I glanced down the hallway and saw that my room and my sister's room were both completely dark. Literally, pitch black. Like someone had covered  the air itself with solid black paint. When I walked into my room, I started running my hands along the wall trying to find the light switch. When I did, I flicked it upwards and was nearly blinded by the sudden change in brightness. As I looked around in my room for what had caused the noise, I heard a crash from behind me. I nearly jumped backwards, but I managed to contain myself. The noise was different. It was like a vase falling onto hard wood floors. It all of a sudden became freezing cold. I walked into my sister's room, a little uneasy. The room was a bright as could be, and it took me a few seconds to realize why. The window was shattered. I ran to the window and looked out it to see if I could find the culprit, and then I realized. My sister's room, was 25 feet off the ground. In the snow below her window, there were no footprints, not even the smallest disturbance in the perfect blanket of glistening snow. I broke into a run, heading downstairs; glass crunched under my feet as I began to run. I ran to the phone and called the police.

The cops arrived moments later and immediately began to search the house. after about a thirty minute search, a police officer approached me with a yellow notepad in hand. In a stern voice the officer said, "We searched around the house and found no evidence that the window was broken from the outside. There were no disturbances in the snow. Whoever broke the window was inside the house, and must have gotten away." That hit me like a ton of bricks. There is no way in hell that the person responsible got away, I got to the window within five seconds of the noise. Whoe-, whatever broke the window, was still in the house. I looked up at the officer and thanked him. He nodded his head and the other police officers got into their cars and sped off. 

Later that night, my parents got home. My sister was sleeping over her friends house and didn't know about the window. I told them what had happened, and my theory about how the person was still in the house. My dad looked at me and shook his head, "son, that's just crazy. You are just overreacting. No one is in the house. It's getting late, why don't you get some rest." I just nodded and went off to bed. I was a little hurt about how my concern was 'crazy' to them, but what could I do anyways.

That night I didn't sleep a wink. I was so frightened by the whole situation that I went into my closet and found my old nightlight. Only part of the room was illuminated by the dusty light, but it was better than nothing. Throughout the night, I kept thinking I heard whispers from the back corner of my room. It was the darkest spot in the room. I tried telling myself that I was hearing things but subconsciously, I knew they were real. The whispers were dry and raspy, and very soft. I could barely hear them, but it sounded like, "the darkest darkness" being repeated over and over again. I was truly horrified.

With the first sign of sunlight, I bolted out of bed and into the brightest room in the house. I turned on all of the lights and watched T.V. to take my mind off the whispers. The shadow of the T.V. extended past the T.V. itself and I swear I saw two tiny, red, faint lights in the shadow, in the dark. 

After three hours of paranoia and cartoons, my parents finally woke up. Thank God. I didn't dare tell them about the whispers and the lights. If I did, I'd likely end up in a mental institution. Our morning went as usual. Breakfast, newspaper and T.V. My parents didn't seem to notice my terror, which I guess was a good thing. Every now and then I kept seeing those red lights in the places where even the slightest bit of darkness was. Except they looked more like eyes now, watching me. Watching me from the shadows that I feared most. 

As the day progressed, I stayed in the comfort of the light that filled almost the entirety of the living room. My parents didn't really seem to care, so I did so until it was time for bed. 

It was the same. The whispers were slightly louder. I couldn't stand them anymore. I hopped out of my bed and turned my bedroom light on, illuminating my room and partially the hallway. I went down the hallway and slightly cracked open my parent's bedroom door. A small sliver of light gave me a view of a horrific scene. Under my parent's bed were those two red eyes. Black tendrils slivered up the side of the bed.

They were so black they seemed to be composed of darkness. I was frozen, paralyzed with fear. I was a deer in the headlights as I watched the tendrils wrap my parents in a cocoon-like veil of blackness. The tendrils retreated under the bed, and the eyes vanished. I looked back up at my parents, or what was left of them. All that remained were the covers, soaked in dark red blood. I turned the lights on and ran to the side of the bed, got onto my knees, and looked under the bed. There was nothing. Nothing but dust and the floor. 

That was about three hours ago. I now know why we fear the darkness. I can feel the slimy tendrils writhing around my legs. I don't have much time, so as a final thought, I'd like to say that next time you see or hear anything out of the ordinary in the dark, don't pay it any mind. Pretend like you never saw or heard anything. If you don't, It will cost you. Some things are best left unknown, I learned that the hard way.

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