One Shots/ Short Stories/ Poems

Fear

Alone, that’s what you are, alone and asleep. The drapes on the window flutter in the distance, and a breeze wakes you up. Stiff, you look around; the silence the darkness emits assures you that nothing is wrong. You turn over in the bed, and a small clinking sound comes from somewhere in the dark. Slowly, the sound gets louder and more persistent. Your heart does the same. The blood rushes to your face as you wait. You wait, and you wait, and you wait, but nothing happens. You close your eyes, and a small draft of wind passes your face. You’re starting to sweat and you open your eyes. You see the porcelain scar-ridden face of a doll clutching a knife. Chuckie has arrived.

Fear is one thing the mind has control over. It can freeze you in your tracks, or pump adrenaline through your veins and make you run like a mad man.  It’s no wonder that when I hear stories about a doll that murders children, it poisoned my common sense once I went to sleep, to the point where I had none left. Every little sound, every squeak of the floorboard; I would cringe and look around in anticipation of a child-like doll creeping up my bedside. But when I couldn’t fall asleep, when my thoughts clouded me like fog; when my imagination took over my five senses, that was when it couldn’t get any worse. I would see things that weren’t there; I would hear things that didn’t make any noise. With every slight creak of the door I would lay in my bed stiff, not to make a sound. I was horrified of falling asleep, in fear waking up and seeing a knife in my chest, covered in blood, my blood; all of it trickling down my torso like a little stream until there’s none left, until there’s nothing left to lose. I would second guess myself, unable to differentiate from reality and imagination. Every night was pure agony, waiting for something that might not happen.

But now, you are alone, alone and asleep, again. By far, the creature you’re most afraid of is Chuckie. So the next time you feel a breeze, or the eerie creaking of a door somewhere in the gloomy shadows, don’t be so quick to assume that everything’s alright. You may hear a clinking sound in the darkness, but don’t mistake it for animals scuttling on the floor, because that's not what it is, it’s only what it’s appeared to be.. But we are trained to ignore all of it, blind to what’s really in front of us. We are taught to overlook these small things; they are only a fabrication of our imagination; that's what they want you to think. We are trained to see it this way. And the next time you hear something that doesn’t sound right, open your eyes, and open them wide. Because this could be the last moment you’re alive. Say your prayers and say them loud, and try not to think about a doll that wants to visit you for the first and last time.