As a child, I always had a phobia of the dark. I was afraid that someone or something was always there and was waiting patiently to give my life an end. I would always tell my parents about feeling shivers, being stared and recently hearing scratching and their reply would always be the same “it’s all in your imagination.” Could a child’s imagination be so dark?
That was around seven years ago. I’m still with my parents and my phobia for the darkness has become worse. And it keeps becoming worse as each day passes. Whenever I’m in a dark place, I always feel a creature lurking, growling and scratching the furniture like a maniac. Of course, my parents believed nothing. They never do. When I told them about it, they just called me paranoid and believed I’m schizophrenic.
It was a matter of time to lose my patience. It was a rainy evening, fog covering the village I lived in. We were sitting in the living room when my mother decided to bring up the subject which she suggested me to visit a therapist. That’s when I lost my patience. I told them that they never believe anything I tell them, that I’m their only child and if they don’t decide to perform an exorcism or move to a different house, I’ll be dead like my brother. As expected, they did nothing.
I went in my bedroom after an argument with them. My father locked me in my bedroom to think what I had said. It was starting getting late and the storm was getting stronger and stronger when I heard a thunder striking and the power cut out. I was scared as fuck. I heard my mother shouting to my father to let me out but my father kept saying I needed to overcome my fears.
I was in bed, covered with my blanket when the staring came back. I could hear the scratching from behind my desk and this time… Whispers. I heard the whispers saying “you’ll be dead” “your time is over” “let’s end your misery” and similar things. I started thinking I was imagining things but I felt a strong grip on my leg. As I was begging, crying and screaming, my parents didn’t make a move. They could think I was doing it for attention or they just didn’t care. I wish I had parents that cared.
The creature had lost its patience. It was hungry and I am its dinner. I’m an entity’s dinner and my parents will feel guilty because they never believed me. The shadow creature with the long skeletal fingers and the 500 pairs of fangs was about to devour me. Then, it hit me. I remember drawing the creature on a Halloween night. On every Halloween night. It was a way of checking my yearly progress. My own creation was about to devour me showing no mercy, leaving behind just a pool of blood. No hint of its appearance. It will leave just like the way it appeared. If you read this, you know it’s the end of me but no one will believe the text…