When I was a kid, I would have relished in the brightness. Now, in my adult life, as the fear of darkness had left me long ago, the brightness was simply a nuisance. The moment the pale beams fell across my bed, I stirred awake.
I muttered a curse, throwing a pillow over my head. Snow had been falling consistently over the last few days, and I’d hoped it would last to the full moon. My hopes were crushed, and I found myself in another sleepless night under the mercilessly bright sky.
I tossed and turned, trying to get back to sleep. I’d never rested easy, however, and this feeling was immediately recognizable. Sleep appeared to have fled for the foreseeable future. I growled, cursing the universe and its formation as I threw the blankets from my legs.
I made my way to the kitchen, path lit perfectly by the white light filtering in through the windows. I grabbed a glass from the cupboard and stood at the sink, looking out the window that sat above it as I turned in the tap.
The snow blanketing the countryside was bright against the dark horizon, reflecting the moons rays until the world had transformed into a pale blue. Pure, untouched snow, pale and smooth until it reached the tree line far over the hills.
Except for one spot, directly in the middle of the field.
I frowned, squinting out at the landscape. I didn’t remember there being any fence posts out there, and the shape was too tall and slim to be that of a deer or elk. The coloring was also off. It was just a pure black shape, as though a section of snow had been carved out of the landscape.
I was startled back to my kitchen by cold water running over my hand as the glass overflowed. I turned off the tap, setting down the cup and shaking the frigid liquid from my fingers.
When I looked back up, the shape was gone. Undisturbed snow stretched on for miles once more, no sign of anything ever having been amiss. I shook my head, blaming my sleep addled brain and overactive imagination. I took a drink from the glass, setting it on the counter for later, then returned to my room.
I crawled into bed, cozying up in my soft blankets with my snoozing dog. Just as I got comfortable, another obnoxious need hit me. How I could have missed my full bladder while already up, I didn’t know. Frustrated, I flung my blankets from myself and emerged from my room once more, passing by the kitchen and to the bathroom.
After I finished, I made a mental checklist, ticking off each of my needs until I was positive I wouldn’t have to get up again. I was pretty sure I had everything taken care of, so I left the bathroom, heading for bed once more. Before I passed the kitchen, I once again glanced out the window. I stumbled to a stop, peering out into the night.
The black spot was there again. But something was different.
It was closer now. Still in the field, but now right at the edge of the fence that blocked off my yard. I could see it more clearly now, but the figure still wasn’t quite distinct. Like an ink smudge on a page, smeared vertically upon the paper. The shape of a head, barely set apart from hunched shoulders that blended into the rest of its tall body, barely splitting apart at the legs which abruptly came to a stop against the light snow.
The hair on my neck began to raise. A creeping feeling ran up my spine as I stood in the middle of the dark room, open space surrounding me. I didn’t want to look away, but the pressing darkness of my home began to feel unbearable. I wrenched my eyes from the window, glancing around the room.
Nothing.
Of course, the kitchen was empty but for myself. I looked out the window again, but the field, too, was empty once more.
I swallowed hard, glancing around again before heading to my room.
I was just tired, that was all. And besides, I didn’t have my glasses on. My nearsighted ass could turn a coatrack into an incomprehensible eldrich horror. I’m sure whatever had been in the field was nothing out of the realm of reality. Probably a coyote, or maybe one of the wolves that had been running around lately.
Still, I locked my bedroom door when I closed it. I crawled back into bed, pulling my dog into my chest as I tucked us under the covers. She grumbled as I disturbed her rest, but nuzzled under my chin and was soon back to sleep.
She didn’t seem to think anything was wrong. Pets always know, right? That’s what they say in “paranormal” media. Pets can see what we don’t. So if she wasn’t worried, I wouldn’t be either. I probably just needed to see my doctor again; Up the dose of my anxiety meds, which double as insomnia treatment. Maybe they’d help me sleep even through the light of the moon.
I lay for a while with my eyes closed, absently stroking my dogs head as I tried to get some rest. I tried counting sheep, and was beginning to lose count and drift off when I was suddenly jolted awake.
At first, I wasn’t sure what had happened, until I sat up and felt my dogs absence. She was typically quiet, hardly making noise but for her sleepy grumbles, or soft cries when she knew I was leaving the house without her. Now, she was growling. Angry, horrible snarls I had never heard her make before as she stood between me and the window.
My body began to tremble as my eyes slowly traveled up to my bedroom window. My stomach dropped as it’s eyes met mine. I wanted to scream, but my throat had closed from the terror.
If only I had just been able to sleep.
If only it had been too dark to see outside.
If only I hadn’t looked.
The moon was so bright that night. Bright enough to light those who shouldn’t be seen, those who don’t want to see. Bright enough to bring out the abyssal darkness hiding underneath. Bright enough to see them, and for them to see you too.
Now it won’t leave.
The only time it isn’t here is the new moon. I’m starting to wonder if that’s true, however. Perhaps it’s simply too dark to see it there, staring into my room, into me.
Don’t look outside at night.
The night belongs to them. Don’t stare into the dark. Don’t stare into them, lest they stare back.
Just go back to bed. Please.