The Inky Black Darkness

Chapter .7

On our way back home my parents questioned me asking me where I had gone for an hour.

My father was disappointed that I had hid from my cousin for that long.

While my mother was embarrassed for having to apologize to her sister.

Once we arrived home I walked away as my parents began to argue like they always did.

Outside, the lush green surroundings of my family's garden I could not extinguish the creeping feeling clawing its way up my spine; each hair standing on end.

The feeling of something in that room, watching me play, waiting for the night when I would be alone; eagerly waiting to pounce.

It may sound strange to you, but by the time my parents ushered me back into that room for the night, I said nothing, I didn't want another argument.

I didn’t even protest in the slightest, I didn’t make any excuse as to why I couldn’t sleep there.

I just simply and sullenly walked into that room, climbed the few steps and crawled into the top bunk.

Then I waited.

I still felt that this thing would be enraged if I so much as even spoke of it.

It's funny how certain words can remain hidden from your mind, no matter how blatant or obvious they are.

One word came to me that second night, lying there in the darkness alone, frightened, and overly aware of a dreadful change in the atmosphere.

a thickening of the air all around me as if something had displaced it.

At first I heard the casual twists and thrashes of the bed sheets below, the first anxious increase of my heartbeat at the realisation that something was once again on the bottom bunk.

That word, a word which had been sent into exile, filtered up through my consciousness, breaking free of all repression, gasping for air screaming, etching, and carving itself into my mind. "Demon".