Imagination then turned to an unnerving reality.
It began to touch the wooden slats which my mattress sat on.
It seemed to caress them carefully, running what I imagined to be claws and hands across the surface of the wood.
I let out an almighty cry, wheezing and shaking, as the moving thing in the bunk below replied in kind by violently jumping on and vibrating the bunk as it had done the night before.
Small flakes of sparks and dust powdered onto my blanket from around my bed as the frame of the bed scraped along the wall, scraping back and forth, with such ferocity.
Suddenly I was bathed in light, and there stood my father, angry and annoyed looking up at me on the top bunk.
Of course he had sternly asked me what was wrong this time, which I could not answer, I dare not say.
I simply just said it was a nightmare.
This pattern of events continued for weeks, and then an entire month.
Night after night, I would awaken to the sound of rustling sheets.
Each time I would scream so as to not provide this abomination with time to prod and 'feel' for me.
With each cry the bed would shake violently, stopping with the arrival of my father who would help calm me down even through his annoyance at me for waking him up then go back to his own room.
Seemingly unaware of the sinister force torturing his daughter every night.
Along the way, I managed to feign illness a few times and come up with other less-than-truthful reasons for sleeping in my parents' bedroom.
but more often than not I would be alone for the first few hours of each night in that place.
The room where the light from outside did not sit right. Alone with that thing.
YOU ARE READING
The Inky Black Darkness
Mystery / ThrillerWritten as a Middle School project in 2009 Rewritten and Updated as of 2023. We were given the task, writeing our own horror book as we were learning the history of Mr. Poe and Steven King. This is where my love for writeing truely came from, Horro...
