Creepypasta: Nightmare Fuel

124: Monsters Aren't Real

Monsters Aren't Real by -The_Blue-Droid (aka me)

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12:04 A.M

Monsters aren't real.

There is literally no evidence that a faceless humanoid in a business suit or a flying moth-human hybrid exists. They're all just silly stories parents like to tell their children so they won't misbehave.

"Be a good boy or Krampus will come and gobble you up!"

"Don't go to the woods at night or Slenderman will kidnap you!"

"Don't look at the mirror at night or Bloody Mary will get your soul!"

How many times have I heard this? Many. Too many to count actually. And of course, they're not real. None of them are.

First thing's first, something's wrong with me. Something is DEFINITELY wrong with me. I'm twenty-nine year old, but I'm still scared of the dark. Call me childish, but it's true. Why you ask? Beats me. I know I'm not a little kid anymore, but there's just something in the darkness that just creeps the shit out of me.

I'm alone in my dorm right now. My roommate works in night shift, so he won't be back till, I don't know, 6 am or something. Okay, so let me explain how it has come to this. First, I was writing my essay for History class, and then next I knew, the lights went out. Currently, I'm writing this using my crappy laptop in Microsoft Word. Not really what I had in mind, but it'll do.

It started as a simple thought at first, plain and bland. Then without warning, my imagination got the best of me and I'll start imagining something spooky is out there in the hallways, ready to gut me alive as soon as I step out from my room.

You see, I did more than just creep myself out. I literally barricaded myself in my room. I pushed my night desk against the door, trying to avoid whatever imaginary monsters out there from barging in. I also locked the door, for safety measures.

I know that as soon as I open the door, everything will return back the way it was. My sanity will return to normal, and whatever monster out there will magically poof away from existence. But even with that thought in mind, I still can't shake the feeling of uneasiness.

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1:23 A.M

Why am I doing this? I have no fucking idea.

I think my fear of the dark (or should I say, fear of the unknown) started when I was eight years old. Back then, sleeping with a night-light on was still the norm. It was back in 1989, and we used to live in this quiet neighborhood at 125 Water Street. I would say something clichè like there was a haunted house where a husband killed his wife and hanged himself or that a killer clown is terrorizing the neighborhood to freak you out, but you see, there was none. It was just your average neighborhood. Nothing out-of-the-ordinary happened. No alien abductions or crazy cannibalistic killers, nothing. It was normal. Everything was normal.

I couldn't really remember much about our time there, considering we only stayed there for a few months after dad got a new job in Chicago and we moved out. Though, one thing that I certainly remember was that one experience that scared eight-year-old me shitless.