The Closet

"You have no power here." I told the dark.

Staring at the closet, I defied every ounce of terror creeping in my body; armed with baseball bat in hand, I'll beat this necrotic entity lurking in the closet. My fingers held tight at the bat, waiting.

"Show yourself!" I yelled impatiently.

The closet door squeaked. So it begins.

Breathless and frightened, I summoned all the courage left. Ready to swing the bat and smash its entire malevolence. It's coming from the closet. I knew it.

The rapid creaking of the closet door as it open and close is deafening, almost prompting me to run; I held my ground. No satisfaction of scaring me tonight, demon.

Then it stopped. A gust of wind passed by, but the closet door remained closed. It's gone and conceded to my bravery. I walked forward to check one last time; its stupid but I have to be certain.

Almost at the closet door when I heard a familiar voice calling me downstairs. She's here.

"Coming down Mom!" I yelled back in response.

I dropped the bat and held the doorknob, but my phone rang in my pocket, I took it and naively answered.

"Hi baby, I'm not coming home tonight, your grandma's sick, do yourself a favo-"

"But Mom I can't cook-"

The realization strucked me.

I was stunned. The phone dropped in the floor.

I swiftly moved backwards away from the door, and there was a knock.