The sounds and the shapes were one of the things that she feared. Some nights, when her mom went to sleep, they appeared. Lurking from the window of the living room and the walls of the tiny hallway.
She hated it. Being able to see it. Having that much imagination to cause her paranoia.
The sounds weren't that fearful, to say the least. They were the typical odd noises of the wind and the things around, but that was part of their dark charm as they urged her into panic.
The shapes were, more precisely, shadows. They changed their forms or simply acted as amorphous blurs of darkness. That is, if the shadows were real. When they weren't, they could even walk and watch. They mocked her existence with their movement. That's what she thought about them. That's how she felt about them.
At night, when everyone was vulnerable, they decided to visit her.
It was infuriating.
Having everything prepared, she went to have some sleep herself. That's when it started, the sprint for life.
She could feel the presence, the stares of the beings around her. She was always prepared though, having the experience since she was little, sliding under the covers without letting anything of her be seen.
How could that help her, you may ask.
It wasn't that simple.
Not even a pray could help.
Holding tight and stretching the covers without sticking to her body, she feigned death.
She played her neck every night, pretending to stop breathing and staying still until she trully fell unconscious.
That way they disappeared.
They used to show their dissapointment. Scratches could be heard, the faint scent of blood very distinctive in the air after watching her for another hour or so before the sunrise.
Their departure full of displeasure meaning that she had another day always made her slightly restless.
Knowing that they'll come back and probably won't leave her until she trully died caused strange emotions inside her.
That emotions were what proved all her inner fears. They were her Nights.
