Jennifer's Fear

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic
A small, frightened girl is battling her fears of what linger in the dark.

Submitted: June 01, 2013

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Submitted: June 01, 2013



Jennifer clutched onto her crucifix, fearing for the worst. The girl’s small hand gripped the piece of wood so tightly, her palms changed to a dark hue of pink. She flinched at every motion the closet door made. Every time it pounced and heaved against its hinges, her heart would skip a beat. Jen struggled to keep from wetting herself, but as the dreadful seconds rolled by, it became more of a challenge.


Low, raspy growls soon introduced themselves in this real-life horror show. Their tone echoed and vibrated in the little girl’s chest. Despite her room being completely dark, Jen felt it was necessary to close her eyes from the potential evil that lay behind her closet door. She went into fetal position and rocked back and forth, silently sobbing. She grasped the crucifix even tighter. Jesus’ ebony-crafted body pressed into her skin so firmly that it left a temporary indent on her palm. At this moment, what Jennifer wanted more than anything in the world was to yell for her parents. To see them burst through the door and tell her everything was going to be alright would be a blessing. But then she remembered that she desired something more than that.


Recollecting back a few months ago, Jen’s last “sighting” of a beast in her bedroom was followed by a talk with her father who had just came home from work. He calmly told her, “Big girls aren’t afraid of monsters. You’re a big girl, aren’t you?” She answered his question by depressingly shaking her head. “Now don’t be like that. Here, I have something for you.” He reached inside his midnight blazer and removed a crucifix that included the man who was famous for being nailed there. “You know what this is?”


“Mmhmm,” Jenny hummed as she nodded.


“Well I want you to have it. As a reminder that what you think you see is actually nothing. And if the demon in the closet resonates in your wild imagination, look at this cross. When you do, it’s going to tell you what I’ve told you tonight. That scary man doesn’t exist.”


She felt it was her obligation to show how mature she had become. Jen wanted to do her father proud by showing how mature his little seven-year-old daughter was.


Keeping her aspirations in mind, she whispered, “Daddy says there’s no such thing as monsters. Daddy says there’s no such thing as monsters. Daddy says there’s no such thing as monsters…” She continued on with her saying for approximately ten minutes. Her mind didn’t believe her father’s words of wisdom, yet she continued on with her repeated speech. No matter how many times she attempted to find comfort, she still felt unsafe. A nauseating sensation burrowed in her stomach, a sign that nothing good was going to come out of this situation. In an instant, the bedroom walls lit up with a red, ominous glow, and then began to melt.


Jennifer could no longer suppress her fright. She let out a strident screech. While the child screamed, fat globs of paint gradually slid down the walls like thick raindrops. A light drizzle of pale, red liquid, almost similar to blood, came from the ceiling. Soon, the carpet, her floor, and her belongings were coated in this substance. Confusion dominated her. She pulled the damp blankets over herself in an effort to block the crimson rainstorm that invited itself inside the house. As desperate as the idea sounded in her head, it made no difference. In fact, it seemed that the crimson downpour was denser under her sheets. Stray droplets grazed her eyes, which in result left a pain comparable to when shampoo gets in one’s eyes. Jen quickly threw the covers in a corner of the room, and then scratched her burning eyes with the tips of her fingers. She was momentarily blind, yet was aware of everything. The snarls that were once low in terms of volume grew into an earsplitting noise. The door rattled with brutal force, barely kept from tumbling down by the unfastening hinges. Her five senses were in a state of hysteria. Her sight was gone. Her ears were overloaded with the beast’s cries, as well as her own. She felt and tasted the bitter, red rain. And the smell of urine tickled the hairs of her nostrils. While she shouted for the aid that never came, her voice suddenly cut off. Jen attempted to shriek even harder, but it was futile. All she could hear were the satanic howls of whatever hid beyond the closet door. All she could do was sob for an end.


Jennifer jolted out of her dream in a thin suit of sweat.  The once devilish setting was now the mundane, familiar room she remembered. Her rapid pulse leisurely slowed down to a steady rhythm. The tears were wiped off by the girl’s soft, cotton sleeves. This event may have traumatized her, but at least she was going to be safe. Or at least that’s how she felt. Yet, this was not enough for her. Call it an extreme case of curiosity, but Jen needed to know the truth. She needed to know that the demon in the closet her father talked about was never real.


She hopped out of her pissed-stained bed, reassuring herself that what she experienced was nothing but a nightmare. The floorboards creaked eerily as she gradually walked. Jesus’ cross was pressed against her chest. After a couple of steady breaths, Jen wrapped her fingers around the brass handle. An overpowering silence spilled in the air.


“There’s no such thing as monsters.” She peacefully closed her eyelids.


“There’s no such thing as monsters.” She twisted the metal alloy doorknob.


“There’s no such thing…” She opened the door.


“As…” She lifted her eyelids, revealing the closet’s contents to her.


She screeched.

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