Category : Stories

Sub Category : Horror

In The Black Of Night
It always felt like something was missing and that it was still watching me aswell.
Peter was a small boy who had been plagued by visions of something stalking him in his dreams from as far back as he could remember. Now at 10 years old he was expected to grow away from nightmares and terrors that haunted him. His parents, especially his dad, paid no heed to his torments as he dreamt and decided he was just exaggerating.  My dad never cared about me, he thought. His voice was cold, metallic and always judged harshly.  Peters mother always seemed sad, like something was weighing down on top of her. He could find no comfort in anyone, it seemed. His friend had cast him aside, believing him to be too different from them and thus increasing Peters feeling of isolation.
It was one night before bed, that Peter was locked in his room by his mother and ordered to go to sleep and not to utter one word about this to anyone. He could hear his parent’s heavy footsteps going down the stairs and out the front door.
He stood by his door with the light on, crying softly. 'Please don't go', he repeated. In a way, he hated his mother and father for feeling so abandoned but, in a way, he needed their protection. Any form of comfort he felt, he threw himself into it and embraced it. Underneath it all, however, he was a very unhappy child.
The house was silent. The other thing he could hear was his breath and the only thing he felt was his heartbeat. The beating radiated from his chest to his ears. He decided to go to sleep with the light on. He knelt on the side of the bed and closed his eyes. His hands were clasped together. He prayed for a minute or so before shakily rising to his feet and getting into bed. He wiped his nose and took a breath. He liked having the light on.  He would often wake in the middle of the night to find his light off and a smell that infected the air around him. As he lay in bed he looked around his room. He inspected everything. Nothing to be afraid of.  He could see anything if it moved.  The feeling of something lurking betrayed his sight and covered his eyes in a darkly-sickening fog of fear.
The wind blew the bushes and trees around violently outside. He sat up and claimed his favorite toy from down by his feet: Nelly the Elephant. It was a stuffed elephant, wearing a little suit and tie. In this toy Peter had poured his trust and love into. He held the toy by his heart and wearily fell into sleep. 
Peter awoke some time later, still black as night. The light was off in his bedroom. His heart began furiously beating out of his chest as his body demanded more oxygen. Desperate for answers and Looking into the darkness, his eyes saw figures, shadows and eyes moving.
He grabbed the covers and pulled them over his head. He didn’t make a sound. He didn’t even breathe.
Silence.
Suddenly there came a scratching at the door. Nails were furiously scraping the wooden door to his room. He set the blankets down ever so slowly and watched underneath his door. The light was on outside the door. There was a figure standing outside his door. Nails were scraping the door furiously. Almost in a circular motion the scratching continued.
Peter said nothing. Just sat very still in the darkness. He felt fingers caress the back of his neck. The wind howled outside. He watched as the noise of scraping descended his door.
Suddenly it stops. He saw an eyeball at the crack at the bottom of the door. The eye looked directly at him. The eye blinked furiously. Peter leapt up and went to turn on the light.  The light blew.  The light left him at the worst possible time. Nothing to be seen and everything that was heard was presented to Peter as something sinister.
No light.
Locked inside in the dark.
He didn’t know what to do.  He had flashbacks of his nightmares and night-terrors I the past. This time he was completely awake but even to think of them, he felt he would summon them in an instant.  There was on vision that was scarier than the rest.  What was unusual about this was that Peter could smell this thing as well as see it.  The smell had a sharp smell and yet tasted stale in his mouth.  The sharp smell would shoot up his nose and corrupt the sense of smell and pierce sharp holes in his brain.
Whatever other monsters and demons plagued his nightmares and stepped foot in his room, this one was the foulest.  The rancid smell would make Peter gag and his eyes water.  There were no street lights to look for, no sign of the moon and nothing but Nelly to cling to for reassurance.
Peter was so tired at this stage.  He took a few steps back towards the window sill and kept his weary eyes and body in a state of catatonic readiness.  There was the brush of fingers on the back of his neck again, which made him shudder.  He turned around and looked down at the driveway.  There was no sign of life and no car.  His mother and father had not come back, he thought.  They both must be gone forever.  This was a dagger through his heart.  The only way out was to climb out the window and jump down into the abyss below.  He dared not face that hell.
The light outside his room had turned off now.  There now was no light in the house at all.  The scratching had stopped and the eyes the peered underneath the door had vanished.  He decided to stay awake for the rest of the night and keep guard on what was behind his door.  It was only twenty minutes that went by before Peter climbed into his bed and gripped Nelly.  Peter had to make it till Morning.  He had to see some light in his room.  He fell back to sleep, with one eye open.
Still dark out, he woke to find his door open in front of his eyes.  From out the darkness came a shadow into his room and lurched towards his bed.  Peter held his breath and kept very still.  Every ounce of his being wanted to run, shout, kick and scream but he did not want to draw attention to himself.  The figure that lurched forward had the smell of death all around it.  No matter how hard Peter focused on it, he could not make out a face. The smell grew stronger, the closer the demon appeared.  Peter was not sure if he was dreaming or was awake.  As the figure stopped at his bedside, Peters eyes darted around and saw shapes moving in the dark. Some of these shapes made circles on the wall and some of these shapes would lean forward towards his face, inch by inch.
The figure turned from lurching into speaking. “You know your mother loves you right?”  “You probably shouldn’t be awake at this time”. Peter recognized the voice.  It was his fathers voice only his manner of speech was off. Peter thought it felt wrong.  It sounded somewhat like his father’s voice, only with the words less distinct and clear.  The breath was soon at Peter’s face.  Stood only inches from his nose.  “You probably should try and sleep now”, said the voice.  As the figure backed away from Peter, one more thing was said: “Try not to forget me Peter, I don’t hate you”. “Close your eyes son”.
Peter wept softly into his elephant and shut his eyes and held them close.  The air grew lighter.  The smell softened into something he could recognize.
At morning Peter woke up to find the light flooding his room and his mother standing in the doorway, holding what looked to be a framed photograph.  “Good Morning Peter”, his mother said softly.  “Your father has been gone from us 5 years today”, she said, her voice shakily trying to find re-assurance for Peter but failing.  “I saw Dad again last night”, said Peter, as he rose from his bed.  His legs felt like jelly.
“I see him too sometimes”, said Mom.  “We all miss him around here”.  She bent down and hugged Peter tightly.  “He says you love me”, Peter cried out.  They walk out into the kitchen, hand in hand passing by the light of the sunshine.