Over There

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic
A short story about an 8-year-old boy with a bad case of monsters-in-the-closet.

I actually creeped myself out writing this.

Submitted: December 15, 2011

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Submitted: December 15, 2011

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Over There
 
There's something over there. Over there in the dark. I can't see it, but I know it's there, and I know it's looking at me. It always hides until Mom closes the door and turns off the light. She leaves a nightlight on, but its beam doesn't reach the place where it hides. It's there every night, and every night I fear it.
 
'Alright Thomas, bedtime!'
'No! Just let me stay up a little longer!'
'You've said that twice already, now go upstairs!'
'But Mooom!'
'No buts Thomas! You are going to bed RIGHT NOW!'
'Alright!,' I said. 'You win!'
 
We had that argument every night, and every night it was almost exactly the same, ending with me going upstairs to face it. I brushed my teeth slowly, carefully, making sure I got every corner of my mouth clean and trying to stall as much as I could, even though I knew it was no use. I had to go anyway. I went up to the attic where I slept. The light was right around the corner, and I turned it on before even looking into the room. I didn't want to see it completely dark. I went in reluctantly, got my pyjamas from my closet and pulled them on slowly and silently. I avoided looking at its corner as much as I could, but it seemed to have a kind of grip on me, and I found myself glancing into that corner time after time, and then hastily looking away. I got into my bed and waited for Mom to come and say goodnight. I always leave the light on so she knows I want her to come. After about five minutes she did.
 
'Hello Thomas. Want me to tuck you in?'
'Yes. And don't go. Please! There's a monster in here...'
'Now Thomas, what have I said about monsters?'
'But...'
'What have I said?'
I sighed. 'There's no such thing as monsters and there's nothing to be afraid of.'
'That's right. She hugged me. 'Good night Thomas.'
'Good night mom.'
She turned on my nightlight and closed the door. And it was there.
Of course.
 
I lay in bed with my eyes wide open. I could not stop thinking about the corner to the left of my bed, the one the furthest away from the door. I didn't want to look over there, but somehow I had to. The grip it had on me was even tighter when it was dark, and even though I tried my best not to, I looked over there at least once every five minutes. What I saw there was the thing that had been haunting my nightmares thoughout my childhood. It didn't really have a form of any kind, and seemed to be going in and out of focus all the time. The only thing that was clearly visible all the time were the eyes. The eyes were red, the pupils small, narrow black slits. And they were looking at me.
 
'AHHHHHHHHH! GO AWAY! GO AWAY!' I screamed. I jumped out of bed and ran for the door I threw it open and turned on the big light. Even though the room was now illuminated by cold, clear no-nonsense light and every corner was clearly visible, it still took me a long time to pluck up the courage to look where it had been. But after a while I did. And it was gone. It would be back though, showing up again the next time my mom tucked me in. And I would scream again and turn on the light again and it would be gone again. It would never leave me alone and I would be haunted by it every single night for the rest of my life.
 
**************************************************************
 
As it turns out that wasn't quite right. My childhood fears faded away somewhere around my thirteenth birthday. But I will never forget all those nights. They are etched into my mind and personality forever, and so is it. Sometimes, even now, when I'm sleeping alone I can sense its presence and when I close my eyes its eyes are what I see. Even though I know it isn't real, I still turn on the light when that happens, and when I crawl back into bed I feel like that 8-year-old boy again. And maybe I still am that boy.
 
Deep down.  


© Copyright 2017 Jacco van Eijk. All rights reserved.

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