FOLLOWED BY DARKNESS

The night air was hot, so hot that it left me suffocating while the darkness grew darker, even blindingly so. The night i experienced, I cannot begin to fathom. It changed my life forever. I lay restless in bed, there's not a whisper of wind to be found. The summer was unforgiving, caught in the middle of a drought the dry heat just intensified. The tar on the roads softened under the heavy rays of sunlight. Neighbors hid in the safety of their homes and the town had stood still. Nobody daring to brave the ungodly furnace outside. What else would you expect living in a small town called Shcoemansdale? The hot African sun scorching the earth, leaving the town resembling a desert. One would think as the sun sank under the horizon, the heat would retreat. This in fact had not been the case. Tossing and turning in my bed, I fight off the sleep that is trying to consume me. The darkness in my room reflecting the images of those that plague my dreams. Night sweats and fear occupy my thoughts. It's always the same screams, the same taunting, the same wicked laughter and twisted grin. My eyelids are so heavy and neither my body nor brain can fight the sleep that i so desperately need. Though as I start giving into sleep it happens, a figure appears from the darkest corner of my room. Slowly creeping to the foot of my bed, it makes everything around it seem so much darker than before. As my eyes adjust to the sudden change of light to dark, I see the dark figure transform into that of a woman. The woman who has demanded my attention for the past several years. Since the age of four, or at least that's as far back as I can remember. Feeding off my terror and silent pleas for help. My eyes burn and my eyelids fall heavy once more, as I drift off to sleep my vision blurs and white shadows creep in and out of the darkness. “Don't fight it child.” I can hear her say in a husky sort of sinister voice. She repeats it over and over again like a mantra. “Don't fight it child.” There she is again, with that wild look in her eyes that fits so perfectly to the rest of her appearance. Baring her sharp pointy teeth, almost like it had been cosmetically sharpened to resemble those of a shark's teeth. She walks closer and closer and I cannot understand how there is a breeze flowing through her unkept long, curly, white hair of hers. Each step nearing my bedside, reaching out with those long, bony skeleton fingers. “Don't fight it child.” It Is all I can hear her say as her face twists into an amused smirk. The chirping of crickets fell silent and the rest of the world muted around me, nothing to hear except the “Darkness” here in front of me. That's what I've named her after so many years of tormenting me, after all the darkness held many secrets that haunted the night. I am frozen still like a rock, unable to move or even utter a word for that matter. Awaiting my demise, just like so many nights before, in fact every single night of my young life for seven years going. All I can do is cry, tears falling freely out of my clear, beady, blue eyes. Out of nowhere the light in the hallway is turned on. My eyes swiftly move in that direction, a sense of relief washing over me. I know that it is my mother coming to check on my brother and I as she usually does. As usual this is not going to end well for me. She hears me crying and the sound of her footsteps fall closer and closer to my bedroom, turns on my light and asks, “Why are you still up, Sarah?!” I start crying hysterically. “Oh not again!” My mother says clearly frustrated with me. This is the same thing that happens every night, yet nobody ever believes me. Just then my father appears behind her, “Should daddy look for the monster lady and chase her away?” He jokingly asked. “Oh for Pete's sake, Alex! She is old enough to know this is not a game anymore! How many more times do we have to tell you it's just your imagination acting up, Sarah?” My mother shouted in a stern voice while her expression turned to anger. Sure, diagnosed crazy. Thanks mom! Her impatience with me is evident each night, and here we are once more. “Young lady you better shut your eyes and get to sleeping right away! You have school in the morning, and you need to be at your best.” My mother said while still standing in my doorway, not having moved a muscle since putting on the light. Angry and annoyed by all this, my mother now aimed her attention toward my father who had nothing but the look of sympathy in his eyes. “ Alex, you better stop entertaining this crap! She's eleven years old for God's sake!”, and with that said she turned on her heels and stomped off in my brother George's, bedrooms direction. “I'll be right there, Vanessa!” My father called out as she disappeared into my brothers room. I burst out crying, “Daddy, why won't any of you believe me?” I sobbed, feeling completely defeated. My father brought his rough, stained hands to my face, wiping away my tears with his thumbs. It felt like sandpaper scraping against my delicate skin, but at that moment in time it was exactly what I needed. “Sarah, Darling, you are eleven years old. Maybe we don't understand your situation, but we do hope that it is just a phase that you'll grow out of one day.” My father whispered calmly, running his hands through my sweaty, wet hair. Getting up, he placed a soft soothing kiss on my forehead before making his attempt to join my mother. As he got to my bedroom door he stopped and turned. “Hey Sarah... I love you. Sweet dreams, okay, goodnight my sweetheart.” My father switched off my bedroom light and disappeared, following the trail my mother had walked just moments earlier. “Night, night daddy, I love you too.” I whimpered softly, sobbing still. Scared for what was awaiting me next. I sat up on my bed, cradling myself, holding my knees up against my chest, rocking gently back and forth. In my head it was my barrier, I was protecting myself from the unknown. I cried some more, not only out of fear but this had become my life. This is what I had to endure every night, I told my parents many times about the 'Darkness' that haunted me, the woman invading my dreams turning them into nightmares. However, my mother clearly does not believe a word I say. I'm not even sure I'd believe what I was saying, it was absurd, I couldn't tell if they were just nightmares, my imagination or if this was indeed real. My dad used to look under my bed when I was younger, he would even open all my closet doors, checking each one of them. Showing me that there was absolutely nothing there and that I didn't have to be scared anymore. He would take me by my hand and we both would ensure that all the windows were shut tight. “See sweetheart, nothing can get in.” About two years ago all that changed as my mother demanded that it came to an end. Frustrated that it had become a silly game and somewhat of a joke to my father. Although he was always there to comfort me, or as my mother would say “entertain my childish cries for attention”. She's convinced that it's all a ploy to get my father's attention and to get away with staying up way past my bedtime. It was around the same time that I had asked my brother if he had seen the woman before. I explained to him in detail what she looked like, and he just laughed in my face. “Trying to scare me won't work! I know why you do this, I heard mom say you do it to get daddy's attention and to stay up later, without getting in trouble!” He said somewhat annoyed with me. “It's not true George!” I insisted. “She is real!” I shouted, feeling betrayed as my own brother thought I was full of it. George is two years older than me, and we still often fight over the silliest of things. He's very easy-going and very active. He loves nature and the outdoors, playing all kinds of different sports, he was even one of the popular boys at school too. Not only that, but he had no shortage of friends in our neighborhood, just perfect! He was the golden boy and I was the attention craving nut! I occupy my brain with all of this going through my mind to ignore the 'Darkness' lurking in my room and I try my utmost best to block the scary feminine figure out, but she just stands there, at the foot of my bed reciting her chant, “Don't fight it child”, over and over again. I am terrified of her presence, not knowing why she visits me night after night. “Why me?” I think to myself. Never have I ever attempted to ask her anything, as my words fall silent in fear. I do not know what I am fighting, as she keeps appearing night after night repeating the same thing. The eerie figure has not done me any harm yet, but I fear she may as every night she's there taunting me. Bringing forth the same message of “Don't fight it child.” Braving to close in the distance as each night she moves closer until she is in my face. Whispering those words that send icy cold chills down my spine even in the desert heat. Disappearing each night as my mother makes her stop at my doorway on her nightly routine, and every night as if on key my father followed suit to comfort me from my torment. “What if mommy doesn't come and check on us? What will 'The Darkness' do then?” I shudder as those thoughts process. No one will ever understand how petrified I am. Luckily the duration of each appearance does not last long, happening just before my mother and father's nightly round. Each night they are unknowingly my saving grace. My parents return to their bedroom after checking on George. I sank further into my bed, my sense of security had just left. I was getting ready to sleep when the 'Darkness' appeared once more, she stood at the foot of my bed. This was new, this time I could feel something was different, it was not like any of the other nights. She moved around in my bedroom like she was frantically looking for something. Slowly making her way towards my bed again. I pulled my blanket up to hide my face, I was terrified, frozen still. At that moment I could not speak, or cry, or even call out for my mother and father to rescue me again. “Hello little girl” I hear her say in a robust, sinister voice, never had I heard her say anything other than that silly mantra she would always repeat. This awoke a fear in me that I had never known before. I clenched my fists tightly, holding onto my covers for the only protection I can summon. “Why are you still awake, Sarah?” The 'Darkness' asks knowingly. This too never happened before. Words fail me as the surrounding air becomes thick, chocking me. Who would answer this crazed woman with sharp teeth? She moves closer, slowly inching towards me, staring at me with those empty soulless eyes, demanding my full attention never wavering her gaze. My room became even darker than before and then suddenly everything went pitch black. The silence was deafening, I felt as though I was falling endlessly, until I could no longer hold onto consciousness. “Why are you not in bed little girl?” She said satirically. I look around, and I find myself on the kitchen floor. My eyes started darting around to see where I actually am. If I am indeed in my own house, in our kitchen, my safe haven. I was so confused on how I got her, I just in my bed a minute ago. She came closer with her hand reaching out as if to help me. “What are you doing here? Why are you not in bed?” this time her voice became more intense. I never had to answer ‘The Darkness’ before, but the harsh, demanding way she delved for an answer made me feel obligated to say something. My throat goes dry and silently like many nights before I start to cry without a sound, just tears streaming down my face. With an uncertainty in me and quivering frightfulness I answer her: “I thought I was in bed, but I don’t know how I ended up here” I said between tears. The warm summer night just became numbing cold. ‘The Darkness’ stands in between me and my way up the stairs to escape to my bedroom. My answer seemed to amuse her, and she grins at me, coming closer, circling me and moving ever so slowly not taking her eyes off of me once. Suddenly a wicked laugh filled the air and there she is right in front of me, glaring down at me, towering over me like the Eiffel Tower. I balled myself up to protect myself, not knowing what’s going to happen next, all I could do was cry. I mustered up every ounce of courage I had left in me to face the rest of my unanswered questions. “WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME? “WHY CAN’T YOU LEAVE ME ALONE?” I screamed. Her shoulders seemed to relax at that moment, her whole demeanor changed to a much calmer state. She turned around to take a few steps back. In so many years this is the first time I see her in this juncture. She’s calm, like actually calm, not frightening, but in total tranquility. Only then I notice the slashes on her back through the long almost transparent, lavender pink, silky robe or dress she had on. She was so skinny, she resembled a decaying carcass of a woman, all that remained was the dried up leathery skin and bone. There are pieces of her long wild, curly hair missing from her scalp, appearing as if someone ripped it out. She stepped in front of the kitchen window, putting her skinny, age-spotted, wrinkled hands on the rim of the sink, peering out of the window. As if in deep thought. The full moon glimmering silver rays of light upon her face. One could tell, a lifetime ago, she had been a beautiful woman. In this moment the way she composed herself was so elegant, the soft touch as she reached for the kitchen sink, the way she moved with grace in each stride. In the moon light her hair shimmered with a hint of strawberry blond between all the white strands. She stood there like that only for a moment but for me, it felt like an eternity. An eternity of peace at least, yet I was still terrified. Dare I speak or ask her anything else? Instantly regretting shouting at her, I wonder if my torment is going to continue. What is she doing? What is she going to do? My mind racing at this moment, and I am still paralyzed on the floor, just as I found myself in the kitchen. The icy air dissipates and I can feel the sweat dripping down my face. My hands wrap around my legs as I start cradling myself, suddenly my palms starts sweating again. The familiar hot African sun’s heat returned. A slight breeze blows through the house and through her hair. She turns around facing me again. Her empty, soulless eyes instantaneously seem so gloomy and very discouraged. “Why are you fighting it child?” this time her husky voice is a little softer than before. Her voice like a mother’s as she steps closer. In fear still I scoot back until my back is against the kitchen cupboards, my knees as close to my chest as possible. The look on her face… I can’t place it but not only does she look familiar, but the sudden feeling that I must know her, somehow. “Who is this woman?” I thought to myself. The urge to know was there, but my fears trump the need to actually want to know. I just want to be left alone; I just want my nights to be normal, like the rest of my family’s. Peaceful, without my mother’s harshness of just telling me to go to bed and sleep. Without my father thinking I’m playing games. Each morning I am left drained and tired because of my lack of sleep. All of my thoughts rendered irrelevant, as this will never happen. Here she is, the woman standing in front of me demanding an answer to a question she has been asking me for years. I cannot answer her. Surely she must know I am fighting her because I am scared of her, isn’t that just logic? Yet again what about all this is logical? Logic could not explain why she was here nor what she thought I was fighting, and what she thought I knew. All that was apparent was my anxiety and my need to escape. However, there was no escape from this prison. Held captive by “The Darkness” all I could do was survive another night of terror. The question still hanging in the air. Why wouldn't she just release me?