She stands at the edge of my room, clutching the wall like the ruins of a castle. She is floating towards me, her long, thick black hair covering her face and most of her upper torso. Her presence fills the room like a dense fog, crisping the air while simultaneously electrifying it. The chill keeps my eyes peeled back, focused on her small, subtle creepings. The moon lets a sliver of light into my room, casting a ghostly glow on her black, tree branch-like hands that seem to inch closer and closer with every breath. I can feel my pulse in my ears as I pull the thin sheet over my head like a shield, believing if she cannot see me, she would simply melt into the floorboards, never to be seen again. I had no such luck. For months, she and I played this game in the dark—the game of creepy chicken, seeing who would falter first. And, as one might expect from a small child, I slowly stopped sleeping altogether. I feared that if I closed my eyes, the woman would surely steal my soul.
My body is immobile as the black branches run across the top of my sheet, begging me to scream, but all that escapes is guttural gasping. I can feel my soul clutching a rosary, begging Mary to protect me from the demonic presence tugging at my toes. Pissing all over myself, I use my essence as a deterrent to prevent Evil Dead from touching me. There is no stopping the branches; for every one I break, three more grow in its place, leaving my bed soaked in urine and tears.
I can hear the floor creak beneath her weight, a cruel reminder that I am not alone in this suffocating darkness. Each sound reverberates like thunder in my skull, and the once-familiar shadows twist into shapes that loom and leer, feeding on my fear. My heart races, a wild drum echoing in the hollow chamber of my chest, as I count the seconds, praying for dawn to break through the window. But the night stretches on, its grip tightening around me like an old friend turned foe.
As her branches brush against the sheet, I imagine them curling around my throat, squeezing the breath from my lungs. I wonder if the choking feeling is real or just another trick played by my mind, another cruel game of shadows. I squeeze my eyes shut, hoping to erase her from existence, but the darkness remains, thick and suffocating. The moonlight, once a beacon of comfort, now feels like a spotlight exposing my vulnerability, illuminating my fear for her to savor.
Memories of laughter and warmth feel distant, like a mirage fading with the rising sun. I think of the stories my mother used to tell me about brave knights and their valiant quests. Where is my knight? Where is my hero to rescue me from this nightmare? The thought cuts deeper than any branch she could extend, the truth seeping in: I am alone, just a small child against the encroaching void.
Suddenly, I remember the flash of light that once danced in my room when I pressed my fingers against my nightlight. A flicker of hope, a reminder of safety that now seems like a cruel joke. The world outside my room is full of magic and laughter, but here, in the clutches of the dark, I feel as though I am trapped in a cursed tale, with no chance for rescue. With every breath, I can taste the bitter tang of despair, an intoxicating mixture that feeds the dread coiling in my stomach.
In an act of desperate rebellion, I muster every ounce of strength I have left. I kick at the branches, feeling the phantom pain of their ghostly grasp. "Leave me alone!" I whisper, my voice barely more than a breath. But the words hang in the air, swallowed by the dark, and she only inches closer, a haunting smile curling upon her lips. I realize then, with a clarity that stings, that this is not just a game for her; it is a game of survival, a twisted dance between predator and prey.
With a final, trembling breath, I decide to break the silence. I call out to her, not with fear but with a challenge. "You can't have me!" The words echo through the stillness, a flicker of defiance igniting a spark of hope. The branches pause, just for a moment, and in that suspended breath, I see the faintest hint of uncertainty in her dark eyes. Maybe, just maybe, the darkness is not as powerful as it pretends to be. Perhaps the light still flickers somewhere, waiting to be found.
I hold my breath, suspended in that moment, daring to hope that my words have carved a crack in her shadowy facade. The air thickens, a tangible tension stretching between us as if the world itself holds its breath, waiting to see which of us will break first. The black branches hang in the stillness, quivering like the wings of a trapped bird. And for the first time, I sense a flicker of hesitation from her, as though she is pondering her next move in this macabre chess game.
But then, like a puppet on invisible strings, she lunges forward, a blur of darkness that threatens to engulf me whole. I scramble backward, heart racing, the bed a flimsy island in an ocean of dread. I feel the edges of reality blurring, the room warping into a distorted nightmare. Desperation wells up within me, and I clutch the rosary tighter, its cool beads a fragile comfort against the encroaching evil. “I am not afraid of you!” I shout, louder now, my voice trembling with unspent fear and rising anger. “I will not let you take me!”
In response, she lets out a low, mocking laugh that reverberates in the hollow corners of my room, chilling my bones. It’s a sound that pierces through the veil of terror, shattering my resolve for just a moment. But I refuse to let it crush me. The warmth of defiance ignites within, spreading like wildfire, consuming the tendrils of fear that threaten to pull me under. I gather the remnants of my courage, each heartbeat thrumming with a resolve I didn’t know I possessed.
“Leave this place!” I command, my voice growing stronger with each word, a newfound power coursing through my veins. I envision the light from my nightlight growing brighter, an ethereal beacon shining through the darkness, pushing her back, pushing her away. The branches shudder and recoil as if my words have actual weight, tangible enough to be felt, to create distance. I refuse to let her extinguish my flame, and I can almost feel the edges of reality shifting, reshaping around my conviction.
The moon’s glow strengthens, illuminating the room with a purity I had long forgotten existed. Shadows retreat, collapsing into themselves, losing their power as I stand firm against her. She stares at me, her eyes dark pools filled with rage and confusion, and for the first time, I see the cracks in her facade. I wonder if she can sense my resolve, the flicker of light that refuses to die. I realize that in this battle of wills, I am not just a frightened child—I am a warrior of light, unyielding and fierce.
In a final act of defiance, I throw off the covers and sit up, my posture straightening, a warrior ready to fight. “You may haunt my nights, but you will never own my soul!” I declare, the words spilling from my lips like a mantra, grounding me in my truth. With every repetition, I can feel her presence falter, the branches quivering, losing their grip. Maybe, just maybe, I can reclaim my power, banishing her to the shadows from whence she came.
