Turn the Light Off

I listened to the crickets and watched shadows shift through a gap in the curtains late one night. The only light in my little room came from the soft glow of a tiny lamp. The windows in front of me stood only a foot high, and beyond them, during daylight, you would see the golden bristles of a heavenly grass; the sort of grass you rolled in as a kid. Looking out now, into that void, I saw something for the first time. I squinted, trying to understand its shape. It starred back, trying to understand me.

"Hello?" I said.

If it didn't respond; if it didn't show itself, I would never believe myself in the morning.

Then, as if it had plucked this thought from my mind, it too said: "Hello," only.. no. It didn't say anything at all. The "Hello" I heard was an echo of my 'hello', an echo of my voice, repeated back to me from beyond the window.

It was as if this thing, whatever it was, expected me to believe that I had just heard an original "hello".

In a fit of rage I reached out to shut off the single lamp that illuminated my room.

I stopped myself, my eyes never leaving the dark space beyond the window.

I hesitated. Something inside me warned against this, warned that if I crossed this line, if I extinguished this light, the thing outside my window would enter my room, perhaps my soul as well.

But then I remembered, I don't believe in the concept of the soul. My rational mind stands above these human fictions. Ghouls and goblins are good for a late-night read, nothing more. I flicked the off the lamp. 

The curtains shifted in a silent breeze. I stopped trying to squint and looked directly into the space beyond the window and the curtains. I stopped trying to see, and for the first time in my life, I didn't worry about the consequences, because god damn this, I just want to know.

The crickets stopped chirping.

The curtains stopped moving. 

It starred back at me.

I stopped breathing.

My world fell apart.

My mind and body disconnected as I tried not to see. My arm shot out to flick the light switch, to undo what I had done, to unsee it from my mind. 

"Hello," it said with my voice, "You wanted to know something about darkness, but this is a door that only opens one way. I'm here now, and I'm here to stay."