Most people, would think that people who are afraid of the dark, are only afraid of the dark. Frankly, the people with that fear may think that as well.
But that’s not the case.
Written from the journal entry of a teenager, with a fear for the dark.
I can feel a chill, even though it was at least 80°F outside, and we didn’t have air conditioning. The sun was starting to fall as the night blanketed itself over the sky. I had kept my lamp on as it became darker and darker. But as it got darker, fear prickled up my spine. I was told this phobia of dark was natural and to conquer it, you should sit in the dark as long as you can, gradually making it longer. I was still shaken from the night before.
But what if I’m not actually afraid of it? What if I’m afraid of what’s IN it.. I remember the feeling of claws, creeping slowly up my body last night. It was around 3am. There was a cold breeze in my room even though my window and door were shut. I remember trying to scream but being paralyzed by fear from what I was feeling. I swore I saw a face. It was one of the worst things I’ve seen. Never again will I be able to be in complete darkness.–
I sat, huddled next to my lamp, I knew what would be coming this time although there was no way to explain it..
My mother had heard my screams and sobs. I was rushed to get evaluated this morning and sadly, they said I had lost my mind. They were going to put me in a mental asylum. But little did they know.. It was following me everywhere as my very own shadow.. It was waiting to strike.. Waiting for the night to give it full life..
Its my birthday. I’m in the mental asylum slowly losing it because no one will listen. They have me on medication but it doesn’t stop IT. I can hear it’s whispers, I can feel it’s claws. Tonight is going to be the night hell will break loose. My birthday gift? Something sinister that is nowhere near human. Why did it choose me?
Maybe I’d rather die than give the.. thing…
The satisfaction of making me lose my complete sanity.. Or maybe I have lost it, considering the fact that I am writing this on a wall, with the blood of someone else. The person coming to do rounds was now lying in a dead heap outside my door..
To anyone caring to read this, do not let it take over. Don’t end up where I am. And where I will die. I’m going to find a way to end my life. But you don’t have to. There’s always still hope for you, don’t lose it. I can hear screams and yelling down the hallway so I, sadly, have to cut my writing short. Remember th….