Do you ever get the feeling that you’re being watched? That you’re never really alone? Do you ever see something out of the corner of your eye that looked like it was... moving? Maybe there’s a flash in the dark that you could’ve sworn was a pair of eyes or the glint of moonlight on sharp teeth. I used to get that feeling all the time. And as far as I can tell, I was the only one who had ever found out what’s really hiding in the shadows, in the dark cracks and crevices in your room when the lights are out and everything is still and silent. That’s the time when many people are afraid… and they should be.
Nighttime is a demon’s playground. Spirits and shadows cannot exist without the dark. People say that there’s no such thing as darkness, only the absence of light. That’s untrue. Darkness is a force, a living thing, perhaps. Turning on a light in the room creates light, of course, but also shadows. Nobody is ever safe by just turning on a light. It’s dark under your bed, in your closet, under your blankets, behind the door. It’s dark inside your head. That’s where demons like to hide the most. But how do I know all this? Well, it’s quite the story...
It’s a Friday night. October. Very chilly. I pull my coat closer around me and wriggle my hands up into my sleeves. I’m walking back to my house, alone, after a friend’s birthday dinner a few blocks away. I look up at the sky and see that the thin crescent moon is almost completely obscured by thick, rolling clouds, choking out the already-weak silver rays. Its wan smile disappears altogether, and I am suddenly very, very afraid. I start to walk faster. Hah, I think to myself, This is just like one of those cliche horror stories. Dark, cold night, the moon disappears behind the clouds, now something’s going to jump out and kill me or something. I’m almost home. I see my porch light. The buttery yellow glow gives me comfort, and I feel better. I fumble with my keys, the icy cold metal surprising me a bit. I drop them. I look around cautiously and scoop them up with shaky hands. I unlock the door as fast as I can and slip inside. The air is still, the usually creaky old house silent. I stand for a second. Something is wrong. I set my purse on the table slowly. I go to flip the light switch when I see something move out of the corner of my eye. I turn and scan the room. My heart is beating so fast, it’s trying to drum its way out of my chest and run out the door. Why am I so afraid? There’s nothing here. You’re alone. Not turning my back on the room, I turn on the light. It flicks on and my fear subsides a bit. Shrugging off my coat, I decide to watch TV to distract myself from the nagging feeling that I am, in fact, not alone.
I know, I know, it seems boring now. Very ordinary. That’s the thing- usually very ordinary people have the most extraordinary experiences. I was just a regular high school girl- average house, average family, average friends. I lived in a small town in Idaho, away from bright, bustling cities. We didn’t see much action out there. Even though my life was simple, I was happy. I hadn’t had any real fun or excitement for a while, but I hadn’t had any issues either. Long story short, everything had been the same for a long time, and that’s how it was supposed to be. However, it’s in places like that- old, outdated towns with more than a few senile old folks- that rumors and myths are born. Back to the story…
I’m watching television, but I’m only half awake. The dark room and soft background noise of talk shows makes me sleepy. Just as I’m drifting off to sleep, I hear a strange staticy noise. It’s the television. Groggily reaching for the remote, I try to fix the problem, but nothing works. I hit the power button. Nothing happens. The screen is grainy when all of a sudden I see what looks like a face in the waves of grayish pixels. Its features are crude and twisted in agony. A shrill, screeching sound is coming from the speakers. Fully awake and curious, I stand up and creep closer to the screen. Big mistake. The figure in the static lets out a piercing howl and swipes for my face, its claws physically coming out of the screen, a three-dimensional mass of pixellated matter. I shriek and stumble backwards. The monster’s hand reaches further out of the screen and materializes before my eyes, becoming greyish bones and rotten, sagging flesh reaching for my heart with disgusting brown claws. I do the only thing I can think of and aim a kick at the TV. My sneaker crashes through the screen and the monster’s hand dissolves with a hiss. I stand back, panting, and watch as the demonic figure, whatever it is, disappear. The television is busted, but I’m safe.
But what now? I grab my phone and dial 911. Nobody picks up. Just static, punctuated by periodic beeps. “That’s weird. 911 is always supposed to work. But who says they’d take me seriously?” I say out loud. “Whatever just happened was definitely paranormal. Nobody would believe it. They’d think I’m trying to pull some prank or get attention.” I set the phone down and decide to go to bed. Maybe I’m hallucinating or something. I trudge up the stairs to my room and get in bed, not bothering to brush my teeth or change my clothes. Almost as soon as I lie down, I fall asleep.
It was an unwise decision, I must admit. Most sensible people would barricade themselves in a brightly lit room, hiding in their blankets and glancing around the room every so often with wide eyes, making sure that nothing is there. Most sensible people don’t believe in demons and living shadows. I was not a sensible person.
I fall asleep, but not for long. An unclear nightmare, blurry and thick in my mind, jolts me awake. I open my eyes and lie there for a moment, listening, alert. The room is nearly pitch black, save for the very weak, bluish glow of the sky coming through my window blinds. Slowly, I turn to look at my alarm clock, but I’m confused. It isn’t there. The glowing red numbers are nowhere to be seen. I contemplate whether or not I should reach from under my covers to turn on my bedside lamp. There is a chilled sensation slowly trickling through my veins, making my heart seem to beat faster and my senses more acute. It’s fear. I am afraid. I shift farther under the covers and turn to look at the window, hoping to get some clue to what time it is. Every movement seems like it takes an infinity, every sound seems like fireworks in my eardrums. When I am finally facing the other side, I see that the window is dark. I stare blankly at the window, eyes wide and straining to make out the familiar features of my room in the next-to-nothing light. As my eyes adjust, I see something that wasn’t there before. A tall, thin, shape in the corner. It’s nearly indistinguishable from the shadowy walls. There is no furniture in that corner. I stay completely still, heart pounding, eyes locked on the corner. Then, to my utter horror, the dark shape starts to glide, slowly, towards my bed. I shut my eyes, hoping it’s my mind playing tricks on me. Once my eyes are closed, I’m too afraid to open them. I tremble as I sense the figure come close to my bed and stop. A tear trickles down my cheek as the cold, shadowy mass envelops me in complete darkness.
Two days later, my death was all over the news. TEEN FOUND DEAD IN BED, CAUSE OF DEATH UNDETERMINED. My parents were concerned when I didn’t come downstairs to leave for school, and immediately went to investigate. I watched as they discovered my body, cold and grey, underneath the covers. The demon had killed me. As a result, I became one, condemned to hide in the darkness for eternity. I am one of them now. I am a shadow.
