Dark Tales

Aren't You Glad You Didn't Turn On The Light?

Two dormmates in college were in the same science class. The teacher had just reminded them about the midterm the next day when one dormmate, Julie, was asked if she'd be coming to an on-campus party that night. The other dormmate, Meg, had no interest in going and, being a diligent student, she took notes on the subject for the midterm.

By that evening Julie realized she was incredibly unprepared for her test, but she still spent hours getting ready. Julie knew she couldn't convince Meg to go with her, but she insisted regardless. The girls were close in the two years they had known one another, and Julie felt guilt in the pit of her stomach for leaving her friend behind.

Meg was steadfast in her decision. She knew that the only thing her mind would be focused on tonight was studying for the midterm the next morning. Julie finally gave up, internally convincing herself that she would study right before the test tomorrow.

Julie left the dorm and went across campus to the party. She lost track of time for several hours, not realizing until it was the early hours of the morning that she should head back to her room. She stopped often, stumbling up the stairs of their building. When she finally made it back, she used the wall as a crutch, closing her eyes as the room spun in dizzying circles. The lights were off, and it was all-but pitch black in the room. Her hand instinctively reached for the light switch, but she hesitated, glimpsing the huddled form of Meg, asleep in her bed. Not wanting to wake her roommate when she needed her sleep for such an important test, she left the light off. She quickly dressed for bed, ready to sleep off everything in her system. Her last thought before she fell asleep was that she would have to ask Meg for help with studying for the midterm.

When she woke up that morning, she stretched her arms over her head, still slightly out of it in the dark room. The sun was kept out by the blinds. She looked the alarm clock in between their beds and then at Meg, who was still sleeping. If she didn't get up soon, she would be late to the testing hall. Meg would never forgive her for not waking her up.

Meg was lying on her stomach, apparently sound asleep. Julie shook her shoulder and waited, but she did not stir. After a moment, she rolled Meg over onto her back and revealed Meg's face, immediately knowing that something was horribly wrong.

Her jaw hung slack. Her eyes were open, but she wasn't awake. It was like she was staring at nothing. 

Concerned, Julie turned on the desk lamp–the only source of light in the room.

The first thing she saw were Meg's textbook and study sheet. They were blotted with a dark, sticky droplets that looked like splattered paint. Julie had naturally rested her hand on the books, and she yanked up her hand in disgust, looking at the stain the thick substance had left on the palm and fingers. Then she turned. She saw Meg. 

A single shriek left her mouth as she fell to the floor, scooting backwards across the carpet to get away from what was left of her friend.

The first word that came to mind was shredded. Her throat had been ripped open like paper. Her chest was torn practically wide open. And her blood was now dripping from her outstretched hand onto the floor. Her sheets were soaked in it.

She couldn't believe what she was seeing. Julie looked up at the wall above Meg's bed and her mouth gaped open in horror. Carved into the wall with a knife and Meg's blood was, "Aren't you glad you didn't turn on the light?"

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Source Adapted From: Multiple