Bed-Time

Maybe 2 or 3 am is when it started happening. The mistake I made was leaving my door open. Not by much, but it was enough for me to glimpse the stranger’s shadow, silently lurking in the distance. Someone locked the door, right? No… wait Marcus, my older brother, that tool was behind me coming in. Fuck!! Being twelve came with little responsibilities. Marcus is older than me, he should’ve known. Plus, it’s easier for him to turn the lock. Now this man is glaring at me… I mean, I think it’s a man. But with glowing eyes like that. I can’t be sure. The only thing I’m sure of is how these eyes look hungry…starving even. The blood moon stained colors cast an eerie vibe that made you feel uncomfortable. This could be my fault, my fake bravado act towards mother letting her crack the door like it was no big deal. They were going out to eat somewhere fancy. I didn’t want them to worry. Ugh!! This thing smells awful. Covering my nose with covers doesn’t even mask it. How can Marcus sleep through this?

Grumbling sound

Why is this thing watching me? It’s creepy. Memories of going to the dentist flood back, filling my stomach with an uncomfortable ache. Is this what it feels like to be completely afraid? It reminds me of the time dad found someone sleeping in the attic. Marcus and I felt curious and barely caught a quick glance from the back of the police car. Both… the man who was in the attic and this unknown entity shared similar glances towards me. As they locked eyes, a ravenous hunger and a simmering violence filled both of their gazes. My actions have come to a halt, and I feel a sense of confinement simply from the intensity of its stare. Shouting out to Marcus does me no good, my trembling voice won’t work properly.

Grumbling sound

The halls reverberated with the forceful slaps against the floor; the echoes intensifying with every step. There is an eerie quality to the sounds here, as if they don’t follow any natural order. It felt like he was wading through ankle-deep water, even though the wooden floor beneath his feet was completely dry. Wait…why is he walking on all fours? Is he finding this amusing or is he out of his mind? There seems to be a strange reason behind his unusual approach to doing it. His movements were so effortless and smooth, it seemed as if he was completely at home in his own body. The stench was overwhelming, assaulting my senses with a force that I couldn’t ignore, no matter how hard I tried to block it with my tiny hands. Now, it’s no longer just a noise. It’s a figure, standing at the edge of my bed. His eyes still held that hungry look, like a predator searching for its next meal. Even while crawling, it kept its eyes on me. As time passes, he stands out more and more, like a lone figure against the backdrop of the crowd. Not because of his abnormal shape, but something about his coloration. His shade is darker than anything in the room. All I can make out are those eerie red eyes and the glimpse of white teeth in the darkness. What is the reason behind that?…. What is his purpose for being here? Why tonight? His right palm moved, obscuring one of his eyes. For what reason I am unsure, but it felt unnerving. This did not detract from his glare from me. This whole situation seemed out of place. If there was ever a moment to make a move, it would be now. Fear had taken hold of me, rendering my limbs immobile.

If I ran, would it follow? Or is staying still my best option? As if it could smell my fear or read my mind, it circled around the bed and took a seat right next to me. If fear had a scent, it would have permeated the air around the bedroom door, as if expecting someone’s arrival. Time seemed to stretch on endlessly. Despite that, there was no one coming to my rescue. Each inhale became more difficult, as if I were grappling with an asthma attack.

With no explanation, he inexplicably placed his hand on my head. As I glued my eyes shut, the absence of my heartbeat became palpable. As the figure’s hand caressed my head, I realized it was too gentle to belong to an intruder. Standing back up, he was stiff as a board. Then little cracks of whispers slipped through his lips. “One more…one..one…Mooorre…” Even it being a whisper, his voice sounded deep… too deep to even be recognizable…Like a demon of some sort. Our mother was pretty religious. This kind of thing would make sense to her, but not to Dad. At this very moment, I was certain that this entity in my room was a demonic force. At a moment like this, Mother had instructed me to bring my hands together and offer a prayer. As if my prayers were triggering an allergy, the figure shouted a resounding “No”. When I heard his voice, now deeper, it took me by surprise and caused me to jump. My trembling fingers were damp with moisture. If Marcus did not respond to its response, then it could have already gotten to him. Tears welled up in my eyes and began cascading down my cheeks, reminding me of my vulnerability as a twelve-year-old in the presence of this menacing creature. All other options exhausted, I had to give prayer another try.

So again I sealed my eyelids and continued praying, but not only for me but for Marcus too. Suddenly, the surroundings fell into a complete silence, not a single sound breaking the stillness. No crickets… no cars…just nothing. Sitting there was pure agony, every second feeling like an eternity. With each slow lift of my eyelids, a wave of icy fear washed over me. It was still there, but it had moved… it moved off the floor to the wall, standing still. If God was there, his awareness of where I slept that night might have slipped away. My tiny twelve-year-old heart was doing somersaults. As if things weren’t already heading to the uncanny, he started mumbling to himself, the words unintelligible and filled with an eerie undertone. Praying, I hoped that someone would come and rescue me from this living nightmare. But still no response. As his head lifted towards me, I could see the forced grin on his face, mocking me and making me feel like a powerless twelve-year-old boy. With a grin still plastered on its face, it sauntered from the wall towards the empty void. Which I referred to as my closet, forcefully slamming the door shut. The echoes of that door reverberated through the house, creating a trance-like atmosphere that seemed to uplift everything. I could feel a warm sensation in my toes and fingers. As soon as I woke up, I leaped out of bed, the urgency in my heart driving me to find Marcus. But that was the weird part. He was sound asleep. How had he not been awake for any of this? Feeling perplexed, I hurried towards the living room window, hoping that the view outside would offer some clarity. The driveway welcomed me with the sight of a sleek, ocean blue hybrid car. As I got closer, I felt a wave of comfort wash over me, knowing my parents were home. It was odd though, not once did they come check on us? Maybe this was all just a dream…odd. As my imagination settled and curiosity waned, I climbed the stairs, feeling unsettled. One last stop before bed.

As I took a peek, I discovered my mom sprawled out amidst a tangled mess of sheets, with the bathroom light still on in their room. Now that everyone is present and unharmed, it’s bedtime, although I’m not sure if I’ll be able to fall asleep. As I fumbled my sheets around, the fading rush of adrenaline left me feeling calm. Strangest experience ever. The lingering presence of the dark abyss in my room kept gnawing at me. Was it a dream or is something lurking in my closet? As my eyes adjusted, I could still hear the faint echo of the mumbling sounds. Slowly, I peeled off my covers and made the biggest step in a boy’s childhood. To not only check the closet without adult supervision, but to check it at night. Carefully, I slid out of bed, trying to be as quiet as a mouse. My eyes were adjusting to the outline of the closet. With each passing moment, my breathing grew louder and more labored, while beads of sweat formed on my skin, covering me entirely. The whispers were becoming louder…. Or maybe I was just imagining that. It’s just…. it’s just…just need to check…to make sure so I can sleep easy tonight. With each step, my body grew numb, the closet knob beckoning me closer. Why me? Why tonight? I could feel the icy coldness of the knob as I held it in my palm. It was time. As soon as the knob turned, a warm, calloused hand covered my mouth, muffling any sound I might have made. As my eyes shot open, a hushed voice whispered, “SSSShhhh... do not wake your father...” It was my mom, but before she appeared to be fast asleep. How did she know I was awake or predict what was going to happen? And what did she mean about my father? This thing looked like it belonged in a different realm, a stark contrast to what a typical dad would look like.

“Come on, honey… I can make you some hot chocolate before bed,” Mom whispered. After she had found me, a blanket of comfort washed over. As soon as I downed the hot drink, I promptly fell into a deep slumber. The following morning, the delicious smell of bacon and eggs lured me out of bed, hungry for breakfast. The gentle touch of my mother’s hand on my dark hair brought me a sense of warmth and love. A sound of clinking dishes and chatter filled the air as Marcus wrestled with his tangled earphones during breakfast. In his typical khakis and plaid shirt, dad sat there, engrossed in the sports game on TV. “Hey champ, your looking ghostly pale today… long night”. Dad remarked, “Oh, honey, he was up all night having night terrors.” Mom claimed. Night terrors, of all things, were the furthest from my thoughts at that moment. Why had mom not mention what had happened last night? Why was she calm? She didn’t even let me bring it up. Trying to make sense of it was an ongoing pursuit that lasted for weeks. With each passing week, her understanding of it dwindled until she insisted I was inventing it. Despite staying in that house, my dad showed no signs of strange behavior, although I felt uneasy being alone with him. In no way did he ever harm us, and I never furthered my investigation after that year. This could be why I’m typing this… for closure. Although my parents were sometimes difficult to comprehend, their unwavering love for us was always clear. No matter how much time passes, the unanswered questions will always haunt me. What if I opened that closet door? What would I have found?

Music Credits-

@Myuu