Monsters Are Not Real?
I stared at the ceiling, trying to ignore the creaks and groans of our old house. I wasn’t scared—no, not scared—because monsters weren’t real. That’s what my dad always said. “Big boys aren’t afraid of the dark, Simon. There’s nothing there.”
But tonight, the shadows seemed different, deeper somehow. My bed felt smaller, like the darkness was closing in around me. My parents had gone to an important dinner, leaving me with Sarah, a quiet girl who barely said two words since they’d left. She sat glued to the TV downstairs while I was stuck up here, alone.
The clock on my nightstand blinked 9:47 PM in glowing red numbers. I rolled over, squeezing my eyes shut, when I heard it.
Eeee-creeeeak.
The door. My door. Slowly opening.
I sat up, my heart hammering in my chest. The hallway outside was empty—at least, that’s what it looked like.
“Sarah?” I called, my voice shaking.
No answer.
The door, which I had closed tightly, now hung ajar, its hinges whining like something had pushed it open. I leapt out of bed and closed it again, flipping the lock for good measure. Then, I turned on my bedside lamp and climbed back under the covers.
Click.
The light went out. My breath caught.
Eeeee-creeeeak.
The door opened again.
This time, I didn’t move. I sat frozen as the hallway seemed to stretch, shadows growing taller and darker. That’s when I saw it. A shape. Just outside my door.
The figure was tall, its head tilted at an unnatural angle. It stood still, but the way it blended into the darkness made it seem like it was alive, shifting and breathing.
The floor creaked under its weight. My voice caught in my throat as I tried to call for Sarah again, but the words wouldn’t come.
Suddenly, it moved. Fast. The figure lunged forward, and the door slammed shut on its own. I was trapped.
Mrs. Harriot had seen plenty of strange things while walking her fluffy terrier, Buttons, around the neighborhood, but this was something else. She’d just passed Simon’s house when a sound stopped her in her tracks—a blood-curdling scream that made her heart jump into her throat.
“Sarah!” the voice wailed, followed by a loud crash.
Mrs. Harriot gasped, clutching Buttons’ leash. Her eyes darted to the lit-up window on the second floor. It flickered once, then went dark.
“Oh, my stars,” she whispered. “What on Earth is going on in there?”
Buttons growled low, his ears flat against his head.
Back inside, I backed into the farthest corner of my room, my hands clutching my blanket like a shield. The shadows seemed to grow thicker, swallowing the walls.
“Simon,” a voice hissed, soft and serpentine. It wasn’t Sarah’s voice. It wasn’t anyone’s voice I’d ever heard.
“W-who’s there?” I stammered.
The figure reappeared, standing in the center of my room. It was clearer now. Its face—or what should have been its face—was nothing but a hollow void. Long, thin arms hung by its sides, and it moved toward me without taking a single step.
“Leave me alone!” I yelled, hurling my pillow at it. The pillow passed straight through, hitting the wall with a soft thud.
The thing stopped inches from my bed. A cold, sharp wind blew through the room, and the door behind it creaked again.
Then, suddenly, my bedroom door flew open, and there she stood. Sarah. Her eyes were wide with terror, but she didn’t run. She held a flashlight in one hand and something shiny in the other—a silver chain.
“Get back!” she shouted, pointing the flashlight at the figure.
The shadow recoiled, letting out a low, guttural growl.
“What is that?” I screamed.
Sarah didn’t answer. She stepped closer, the silver chain in her hand glowing faintly in the dark. With each step, the figure shrank, its shape distorting like smoke being sucked into a vacuum.
Finally, with a sharp snap, the figure disappeared. The room was still, the air heavy.
I stared at Sarah, my heart still pounding. “What the… just happened?”
She didn’t meet my eyes. Instead, she turned off the flashlight and pocketed the chain. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
“Try me,” I said, my voice shaky.
Sarah sighed, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “You’re not crazy, Simon. Monsters are real.”
And with that, she walked out, leaving me sitting in the dark.
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