Real Scary Stuff

“Eyes Tight Shut”

I awoke with a start. Or had I even been asleep?

Somewhere in the quiet gloom of my bedroom, a sound stirred—soft, deliberate. Close. Right by my bedside.

It wasn’t the house settling. Nor a creak in the pipes. No—it was something else. Something alive.

I froze.

Whatever it was had passed close. Too close. A whisper of movement, like cloth dragging over carpet or breath through clenched teeth. My heart began to hammer in my chest, each beat echoing like a war drum in the silence.

I didn’t dare move.

It was there. I could feel it, sense it, the way one knows a spider crawls across bare skin in the dark. The air was heavier now, denser, as though something old and terrible were sharing it with me.

Then—it rose.

A dark form. A mass without light or texture. Blacker than the black, shaped like a man but far too tall, too lean, as if the very idea of it had been stretched by something cruel and ancient.

It rose silently, deliberately, until it loomed above me.

I lay still. Muscles locked. Eyes wide.

Its outline became clearer. A shadow, yes—but one with intent. Two glints appeared where eyes might be. They didn’t glow. They didn’t burn. They simply were, like voids that pulled the warmth and light out of the room.

I shut my eyes. Tight.

I felt its gaze all the same. Cold. Searching. Hungry.

It wanted something. Me. The light in me. My soul, my peace, my very sight. I knew it, like I knew my name. This wasn’t a dream. It was real, more real than daylight had ever felt.

And then, slowly… the presence began to lower, sink, fold back into the dark.

Relief washed over me. But when I opened my eyes—

It was still there.

Lower now, yes, but still watching. And rising again.

I clamped my eyes shut once more. If I couldn’t see it, perhaps it couldn’t take what it wanted. Perhaps it would grow tired, return to wherever such horrors go between hauntings.

I prayed. Not with words, but with desperation. With the kind of pleading that requires no sound.

Eventually, it left. I felt the change—like the temperature rising half a degree. The air softened. My limbs loosened.

I rolled over and drifted into sleep, trembling but alive.

But even now, even in the bright light of day, I know the truth.

It will come again.

And next time, it may not be content to just watch.