_______________MERCILESS DEMISE______________
With only a ring of gold keeping the shadows at bay, I would huddle up into a tiny ball, encompassed in blankets wrapped tightly around my young frame.
I was not afraid of the dark. I was afraid of the entities who reside within its hold.
Flickering candles, their wicks slowly withering down and wax dripping towards the floorboards, kept around me in a tight circle. They were my shield, my barrier, my protection
You may not believe the ghost stories. Not believe in the bogeyman. Not believe in the man under your bed. Not believe in the monster in your closet. But to a child, they are all very real. We believe them because they are real.
They come out when the sun sinks into the horizon, when the lights leave the world. When the switches are flicked and good nights are mumbled. When it time to come out and feed on fear.
To them, our fear is a drug. Sweet, delectable and an adrenaline rush. It makes them high. Makes them want more. And a child should fear them. They should have no choice but to offer them a platter of hormones as we cover under our blankets. It is not normal for a child to give off something other than fear at such intensity in their presence. They should shiver at their dark smirks. Not glare back just as defiantly.
Of course all children eventually grow out of it, probably look back on their young torturous nights and laugh at their stupidity thinking themselves none the wiser. They’d probably mutter 'monsters aren’t real’ in embarrassment. The brain does a good job in blocking out the traumatic memories, so when we finally mature and finally think we understand reality from fiction; we ignore the shadows, ignore the misplaced goodies and ignore the prying eyes that watch your every move. Our minds take that as reason enough to block out these memories because in real life believing in monsters is looked down on.
But I, skipped out that part. I failed to stop believing in them. To pretend they were a part of my imagination was a luxury i was not allowed. So I grew up believing in the things that go bump at night.
Do not be fooled. I am not insane, nor do i hallucinate. They are very much solid. They can kill. They can steal. They can torture you right into an insane asylum. They can turn invisible. They are not going to stop from touching you by just covering up in blankets. The only thing they can’t do is go into the light. Quite frankly, they detest it. And no, it is not you're nightlight that will ward them away, but the purest and rawest form of light. Fire.
They could very happily waltz into your 24/7 department store when the sun goes down and make conversation with the cashier, but god forbid them even stepping near bonfire. Even if they could happily walk the fluorescent lights in their stride, they prefer the dark. To stalk their kill without them knowing any better. After years of residing in the dark, from being living through he ages where lanterns and fire were used to light up the dark, the ability to step into this artificial light would not be in their best interest, especially after millennia of hiding from it.
Daylight was a great escape when these demons followed me into adulthood. And though I know it was no point, they were the reason for my mile high electricity bill. And had lived long enough to know, that these were creatures from stories, that didn’t mean that reality was anything like a fiction. There was not going to be any happy endings to my story.
These monsters would be my Demise.
YOU ARE READING
I Believe In Monsters
Paranormalwe know the stories. we believed them ever since we could comprehend English. they were meant to scare us. to wish for the sanctity of nightlights. we all remember about the monsters that hide in the dark, in your closet and under your bed. we all...
