Nightmarish

Elisavet Kammas '26

I close the door behind me. I’m alone in my room, with only my thoughts to keep me company. Me and my harrowing thoughts. It’s night out, no stars in sight. The clouds always cover them by my window. There hasn’t been a day where I could see the twinkling lights dance across the sky. I turn on my lamp. Where there is no darkness, there is no fear. I never look at the corners of my room. That is where the darkness creeps; they’re the only places that my lamp’s ebullient light can’t reach. It’s where the shadows lurk. 

I sit up straight on my bed with a book in hand. I look at my alarm clock which is meticulously ticking. It’s only 9:45. Fifteen minutes go by, and my mom comes into my room. I put my book next to my alarm clock on the nightstand while my mom kisses me goodnight. She closes the lamp, leaving me engulfed by darkness. The door is left open just a creak. 

I lay back on my bed, staring at the ceiling. I breathe out quietly. I carefully listen to the ticking of my alarm clock. 

Tick. Tick. 

Ι count them off in twos. Darkness is solely the absence of light. It can’t hurt me. I turn to my side, my head firmly on my pillow. My eyes begin to wander around the room. Slowly, I look around, and finally at my door. Behind the inch that is open, is more darkness. The hallway is full of silence. Everything is perfectly still. My alarm clock continuously ticks.

Tick. Tick. 

I struggle to close my eyes. I try to imagine the characters from my book, watching the starlight together, side by side. They are bathed by the moonlight. The stars are dancing. I watch as the stars ominously turn blood red. Red seeps into the night sky, staining the moon. I hear a creak from my door. I then hear another. My alarm clock ticks on. 

Tick. Tick. 

My door slowly opens. I open my eyes slightly. My room is still pitch black. The only thing I can see is the bright red digits on my alarm clock. There is a draft in my room. I quickly shut my eyes. Everything is still. It feels as if something is watching over me. Staring. I listen to the ticking of my alarm. 

Tick. Tick. 

Ι listen carefully. There is heavy breathing in the room, but it isn’t coming from me. The breathing is cold, and shallow. It’s light. I listen carefully, paralyzed by fear. I hear something fall to the floor. Slowly, the breathing gets further and further away until I can’t hear it anymore. Finally, I’m by myself. 

I reluctantly open my eyes and look over my bed. My alarm clock is blinking the number 12:00. I look at the floor, my book wide open. The first sentence on the page reads: “Are you afraid of the dark?”