Knowing The Secrets Of The Darkness

 

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It was a cold, dark night. I thought I knew the secrets of the darkness. I did not fear it, not for a long time. When I was young, back then I used to have fears about what hid in the darkness. Now, though, I was used to the darkness and I no longer had those fears.

I remember how my wardrobe door never closed properly. A big, solid, old wardrobe, it had been in the family for generations It was, when we were young a favourite place for games of hide-and-seek. A Few years later, though, my parents redecorated, bought new bedroom furniture and I inherited that big old wardrobe.

During the days, it still served as a place for hiding from my sisters or them from me. At night, though, the wardrobe door was no longer just a door. It was a mouth of a cave, or the mouth of a monster. I knew there was something malevolent watching and waiting in there for me. I knew it waited for me to close my eyes, only then it would crawl out of that door. I would lie there, not daring to look, but not taking my eyes form the wardrobe door, my ears pricked for the slightest sound.

It was an old house, full of strange noises and airs. In the dark winter nights when the wind moaned around the house, the house cried out too in answer. Floorboards creaked, chimneys moaned and the windows rattled and shivered.

The wardrobe door too, would creep open as the wind blew, as the temperature changed, or as someone took a trip to the bathroom along the landing in the night.

Eventually, one night I could take it no more. So, armed with my Thomas the Tank engine torch I steeled myself to creep out of bed to enter that mouth.

Once inside, that blackness, blacker than the night outside, I found something there waiting for me that I never expected to find. Something that made sure nothing ever scared me again.

 

Published by David Hadley

A Bloke. Occasionally points at ducks.

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