I was laying in the soft bed, squeezing the teddy bear with icy fingers. I never felt safe when the lights went out. It was as if I was diving in another world.
World of fear. Tears. Anxiety. Despair. The darkness scared me. Made me hide. Run. Hide from her. A ray of light was my salvation.
The blanket was a solid shield. It sheltered me from the unknown, from what was THERE ... Almost all my life I was afraid of the dark. I could not enter the dark room.
I couldn't even take a step. My heart was beating faster, my hands were cold and my skin got goose bumps. I was afraid.
But was the darkness the cause of my tears and tantrums? Did the absence of photons at the 400-700 nanometer visible wavelength really scare me?
Am I afraid of the dark, or am I afraid of who is hiding in it?
The one that observes. The one that has lived in the closet for many years. The one that thirsts for blood and revenge. Whose eyes are filled with anger and hate.
Whose fingers are long and crooked. Whose breath do you hear as soon as you plunge into darkness. Who goes hunting as soon as you close your eyes. Waiting for sleep to wrap your mind.
Then it can touch you. To your skin. To your fears.