The Darkest Corners

Why, it's primal. Feelings of terror & fear of the dark have been built within our instincts for thousands of years, to be alert, of what may be hidden, in the darkest corners. Oh but he didn't run.

“And remember, I want you to turn off all the lights and lock the doors, once you’re done, his mother told him, oh, and don’t forget the-”

But the boy, invested with his cartoons, a non stop marathon since dinner, oh by god, wouldn’t he regret it.

Upon shutting down the T.V., there was silence. A familiar feeling he know’s (remembers) he can’t escape. He didn’t need to check no clock, the windows told it just fine: twas very dark, and very late. You can’t even gaze beyond any one of yours window. Just solid black. The boy thought of them like one of them “one way mirrors”, someone once told him. You see this simple reflection, but who (what?) hides behind these said mirrors?

Furthermore, I’m alone, he thought, and he felt. Now Mommy was home, yes, but oh she’s not here. She’s in her room, in bed, lying (dead?) asleep. She wasn’t the one who wanted or cared to stay up all night. Why yes, I’m alone.

Ah, there’s that silence again. What an atmosphere it engulfs you in. With the television off (and really, any other electronic) noises you could never make out were only present, and ominous. You see, there’s quite an effect, and power, that just the simple silence of the night, can drive this boy mad. You see, that’s the worst part, there is nothing. It’s just a waiting game. You wait for something to go thump, or bang, in the night. But yet, there’s still nothing. Nothing but, once again, those little and gentle noises you only hear at night.

(Perhaps it could be . . . NO, don’t think about, It) ah but it’s too late, boy. How could you forget about, It? But what this It? Why, It, that, thing, could be anything; the boogeyman, a monster, or something else. Just, anything that could be after you. Anything that waits, and hides, where?, only in the darkest corners. The places when and where anything, where It’s most hidden. It always follows you in these dark corners. Never in front of you, oh no no (well, for the most part) no. It’s always gotta be behind you. Just where ever you’ll never find your very own, It. And It waits. Oh by god, It’s loves to wait. Waiting on you. It leaves you to wonder, to fear where, and what It even is. What it will ever do-

ENOUGH! thought that boy.

Ah, but he knows. He knew what that It was; why It was him. What else could It be? There’s no such things as monsters. But there are those who make them, believe and fear them, but only to their terror. Wondering where they are, what was that, when will they strike? But never to know who (or what) that monster could be. It’s never about the darkest corners, it’s who’s waiting, who’s making that noise, that makes you -- made that boy -- want to shield under blankets, under the dim of a night light, staring at the door, just waiting, and waiting on It.

But this boy had promises to keep. For him and the others. He was brave enough to pull his teeth that day, why couldn’t he be braver then? And so, he begun to put that house -- with such warm and comforting lighting -- to a dark sleep.

He went to the farthest end of his house. On his way there, he made a stop at the little lights; lamps, bathrooms, some other electronic, just anything to shut down. Now, he always had used this plan: starting from the farthest end of the house, the front door, he’d shut off all the house’s lights in a straight line, and then finish once he’d make it to his room.

On his way there, he passed through the dining room. Here, there were a pair of double glass doors to the backyard. And he hated them. All the other windows had some sort of curtain, or shade, but these doors had neither. And just as mentioned before, they were that of some kind of deep black mirror. Yet, it was so hard to look away. To see yourself in what should be clear glass. To see . . . to just stare and stare and . . .

(When It stares back)

quickly he looked away, trying to focus on the lights, and not of something of that sort. But oh my, wouldn’t that just be the worst? When It stares back? You try to see, try to look out, (curiosity, perhaps?) and boo, there It is. You’ve found him. And you now know, he’s found you.

And the first light was out. Now, there wasn’t much to fear then; no dark corners, no It. But, within the dark, windows were reflective again. There, the driveway, parked cars, and the neighborhood could be seen outside. But not any sound, neither any movement outside. Not right down the street, neither left. Once again, isolation had it’s powerful effect on the boy.

Now the next room, the kitchen, was no big deal either. But, the front hallway became darker. Just getting dark enough, too quickly, to It’s liking. Only the next -- possibly the worst room -- when shut down, the boy can feel the presence of It, just right behind him, but he’ll never dare to look.

The dining room. Again, it wasn’t just dining room itself, it’s the doors. The double, clear sliding doors, that lead to the backyard, were always the worst. You may not be able to see through these doors within the house in light, but oh the boys knows, It can see him, just perfectly, outside. He knows, because even he could too. You can see clearly when you're the It outside the door. But inside, you could never tell.

Flick. Now half the house was dark. Dark enough for It, to hide and breathe in your home. The boy didn’t dare looked back. He just kept speed walking away from the doors and the darkness, keeping his focus on the lights in the living room, where the last lights where.

Oh why must he lose the light? Why couldn’t there just be light and no dark? You can see in the light. You’re with your friends, your family, during the day. In the light, it’s warm, it’s comforting. Blue skies, warm sun, it was all there when it’s light. In the light, it’s shields you, it protects you from danger, from It. But why mustn’t the dark be like that? It could be beautiful, it could be peaceful. Oh no. The dark is where all the bad things happen. This boy always hear’s the news from mommy’s shows, they always talk about the murders, the rape, the bad things that happen in the dark. His peers talk also talk about those who’ve suffered in the darkness. But these were worse. Men in masks that kill, monsters from lakes or from space, ghost who haunt whoever, wherever they want. But these aren’t real; they’re from movies, from shows his friends always mention. Why must he believe in it? Why does he feel this way?

And then went the last light, from the first floor; enough room for the It to play.

Something, he didn’t know what, but there something in the boy's head to drive him crazy, because -- just like the dining room -- the switches were within where it’s most dark. This boy is surrounded. It made him feel exposed, unprotected, naked; there was nothing to save him against the It. The light, oh how he misses it. It surrounds him too, but in warmth, protection, like a shield that hugged your whole self. But in here, something felt the way as the boy in light, but It is protected, shielded, hidden. Now that something, he didn’t know what, made him panic, made him whimper. It told him to run, to scream for help, but (Mommy is sleeping) he would feel (how about like a coward?). That something was terror; pure terror, now more than ever before.

And he ran. He ran up the stairs, feeling like (oh gonna cry, now? huh? you p-) then he shut off the lights to stairs, feeling more open to It’s grasp. No matter how far you could run, It’s always following you; you can feel it. It always felt like It just wanted to (to what? scratch you? bite you? throw you back down the stairs??? what’s the matter, scared? you stupid little-)

Now, the last lights were up here: the second floor. There was the bathroom, Mom’s room, and the Boy’s room. He didn’t even bother with the bathroom lights, he just swatted the lights to the upstairs hall, and ran to his room, where he could feel safe at last.

The boy took the door -- trying to not look back out -- and slammed it shut, locking it, and sighed.

He’s home free.

(and don’t forget the . . .)

But the what?!

In his room, to the right, was his big american flag; in the middle, was his camo-themed bed faced to the door, with toy soldiers on a mantel above the head of the mattress; to the right, his nightstand with a lamp, a vase of coins and dollars labeled ‘Bike’, and a signed photo frame. But on the right of that stand-

The window!

The boy moved to the window and slid the shades shut with force. Now, he felt safe. Now, he was in his room, where he could rest, sleep, knowing that -- with his nightlight -- he could keep out (oh, you are one big coward.).

But then there was that. Why must he be a such a coward? What’s so bad about the dark anyways? He knows it’s just him. There’s no such thing as monsters. And yet, there was still the darkness, and it’s power that affects on him.

But it's no matter now; it's time for bed. The boy slid the shirt over his head, and tossed it aside. Then he dropped his pants to his ankles, and tossed it to the shirt. Then one sock, and the other, and tossed them to the rest, left in only his camo briefs around his waist. Now. there’s still the matter of the light. On his nightstand, there, his item of shame; his nightlight, a U.S. Marine star. (Coward.) He took it off the stand, made the usual walk of shame, and plugged it in. Oh damn this light; what irony, right? This symbol marked to heroes, the brave, (dreamers?) here it shines, for this coward. Now he could flip the lightswitch, leaving him in a room, with such gentle lighting. Now he could slide into his covers. Now he could rest his head on this . . . pillow? Pillow? Pillow!!!

“And remember, I want you to turn off all the lights and lock the doors, once you’re done, his mother told him, oh, and don’t forget the tooth we pulled today! I left it on the dining room table. Good night sweetie, love you!“ “Love you too,” but this boy was too focused with his cartoons.

He forgot his tooth! He never grabbed that tooth!

Then he stared at the door. No way; there was just no way. He couldn’t do it, he just couldn’. This had to be it. This has to be when he meets It. It’s just so perfect; the tooths even at the back- but then again . . . this is could be his chance. Not just to get money from the tooth fairy, get that bike -- forget that bike! -- here’s a chance to redeem himself. To be brave, to be a hero, to be . . .

Next to the door, a chest filled with Nerf guns and toy swords. But above that, a poster of Uncle Sam -- “I want you . . .” -- staring at this boy. (But what about It?) then he looked at the nightlight, the star. (It’s too dark . . . It . . .) But then, he looked to his signed photo-frame. In that picture ( . . . It wants this . . . ) that man in the picture. That man in camouflage clothing (It’s hiding!) holding a baby boy. On the frame, it read: (In the darkest-) “To my bravest hero, Max!” (you know what? To hell with the darkest corners!!!)

Max threw his blanket, jumping out of bed, not even bothering to get dressed, searching through his toy box of weapons. Oh all of these choices! Fast guns, slow guns; foam swords and plastic knifes. Ah, here’s a nice one; not too big, nice range, and fires fast! At the bottom of Max’s chest, there was an army hat, he grabbed it. This plastic toy hat made him feel something, a feeling of power, a feeling like, like a (COWARD! You won’t go out there! You’re-) hero; the big, brave, hero. The one who’ll protect the loved, defeat evil, getting the job done!

But yet, he’s gonna go out there? Just for a tooth, and it’s awaiting fairy? This isn’t like before; running away.  Oh no. You’re running to the battlefield. Risking your life. And yet for what? Perhaps something more? Here, more has been lost than one tooth; where’s his pride? The courage? Oh it’s been lost, alright, but it lies -- just right there -- in the darkest corners. Like losing a toy in a public space, the pride, courage, bravery -- it’s lies right there -- but how long have you let it sit there? Letting it rot? Right there. You just gotta dive into the lost and found -- the darkest corners -- where you can just snatch it. Scoop it up. Mantel it in your mind. It’s yours Max.

And here’s the door. Just right in front of him. He stared at it. Hesitating. Just starring at the knob. Max rose his hand, but he left it there. Left it to hang, within such a short reach of the knob. How long has it been? He could feel the blood rushing; needles in his hand. So he grabbed the golden knob, but he didn’t dare twist it. His fingers began to shake, but just a bit. How long was it again? Before he turned the knob? But

(what would daddy do?)

there was no point in waiting any longer. With sign -- more like a shaky gasp -- he twisted the knob. He thought it’d be best to just do it, then just slowly push it. And, with the force of his shaky limbs

(Breach! Breach!)

he pushed, and the door swung, knocking into the wall; the only noise.

Behold! You’ve done it. Behold this darkness. Black like a T.V. screen, quiet as shut down T.V. too, there was nothing. Deep, black, horrible nothing. With only this petite light from the star, why yes, there was light in this hall, but just not enough. The darkness was stronger. Blinding you. Leaving a curtain that, the more you stare

(When It stares back.)

and the more you stare and stare

(Staring back.)

you wonder, what’s back there?

(Staring contest? Blink and you lose.)

Oh his fingers (coward, coward, coward) you can’t stop the shaking. You can never stop the feeling. That nostalgic feeling of isolation, exposure, blindness; you can’t but stop it, and It’s bringing bucket fulls, all just for you.

Max looked at his helmet (blink and-) and back to the hall, He put the plastic helmet on his head, took a breathe, and his fingers began to settle. No more waiting; it’s time to go.

No running -- cowards don’t run -- neither out, or even within. Calm and steady. Quiet like this house, like this night. Let It come. Do your worst! He’s ready now. Then he went for the-

Light? Do I really need this one? No. There no tooth on these steps. Only a hero. With his heart racing, he went into the darkness. He’ll use the lights, yes, but not just yet. He must fight It.

Down the stairs, and still breathing, still no lights, and still no sign of It. Oh but it’s just too dark now. Time for the lights.

There was feelings of relief the flooded the boy when the lights came in, shielding him.  There he was, in the living room. Each other room, just as dark as the rest. Oh the places where It could hide. He could be anywhere now. Under the table, in the bathroom, closet, behind him, or even right in front of him. This is the It’s home -- this darkness -- It knows it’s way around here. Your walking onto enemy territory.

But only one room mattered now. Max, went to go turn on the dining room light, entering it’s darkness once again. And still more in the darkness; he’s lost in the dark, searching for the light. Ah, there’s that racing heart again. It thumps, and thumps. Too fast for you to breathe. You keep swatting at the wall. Flicking at the wall. Sweeping all over just to find the lights. But how could you lose them? This is your home. Ah but in the darkness, you're in the territory of-

Just like the living room, that shielding warmth protects him again. Relieving him once more.

And on the table, there’s the objective, on a white napkin, his baby teeth. But it’s right there. Right in front of Its favorite hiding spot; the back doors. Solid and reflective as any other window. And it’s so close. It’s so close. That tooth, this table, sit just too close to the sliding doors.

Max had to move now. His time was now. These doors, the ones your damn so hard. And there’s your idol, just right under the stone boulder, guarding; this trap is waiting, all for you.

If only the dining room could be just a bit bigger. Everyone has to “suck your gut” just to get the doors, or pass them. And he did just that. Suck your gut. Oh, but you turn your back to the door? You’re naked, bare back to the doors?

(You blinked!)

Max pushed the table away from the door, giving him more room. Just enough.

And there’s the tooth. Max grabbed it. And he was home free-

Behind him, he heard the leaves; a rustling. His heart froze, he spun around to look (you blinked! you blinked!) and yet again, just like always, he saw only him. That black, horrible reflection, of this one way mirror.

That was no wind. No way could it have been . . . no! It’s not real! It can’t be! oh please god no-

“ . . . you,” from Max’s shaky voice, of a horrified little boy, protected in nothing but light and the briefs around his waist. But yet, “y-you don’t scare me.” but yet, there was still that same, nostalgic silence. And yet, Max was feeling, like, like a . . . “y-yeah. Yeah you don’t scare me! What have you ever done to me?” Max removed his helmet, “Nothing! Ha! That’s right, nothing! You do nothing!” he set down his Nerf gun on the table, “you're the coward! You’re scared of me! And I’m not scared of you! I’m not scared of you!” he yelled in triumph; he was winning. He’s defeating this terror! He’s-

In the window, there was coming closer. A round, shiny circle, towering over the boy, staring at him. It staring at him. And Max staring back. His heart was racing, faster than he could bear. His fingers trembling, once more. He was speechless. There It was. There It is. It’s . . . It’s . . .

and yet, Max is smirking? “Boo!”

There was white. And It was gone.

Back in his room, he opened the window, unplug the night light, he even turned off his own lights. And he just stood there. There in a, well, not complete darkness. Outside the window, where the night's breeze met his body, there was light. Nothing from some street lamp or anything of the sort. But in the sky. Max could see the moon -- a full moon. It illuminated the streets with gentle light.

However, there’s still more darkness than there were any comfortable light. Night time’s still night time, after all. And yet, he leaves his room darker, more open to that beast. Why, he thought, did he just do that? Max reached as far as his little arms could let him to close the window. But yet he stands there. Just looking outside. Not through a black window, but through his own vision.  There were also stars, more than he ever remembered seeing. There wasn’t even a silence out here. The crickets, the owls, it made me feel so, peaceful.

He dropped his hands to his sides. Soon, he faded into a bit of thought. Thinking about his recent encounter, he smiled. It was a cocky smile.

Yelling out the window, “Who’s the coward now!?” and with that, he jumped into bed, never feeling any happier the have slept in the dark.

At long last, there was light. Shining through the open window, the sunlight woke him up. He felt warm and comfortable again. Then he remembered, last night's mission, and the reward under his pillow. Excited, he searched under his pillow for money.

Only, this doesn't feel like money. It wasn’t even money. Max was so confused what the tooth fairy had given him.

Like every morning, mommy always cooks breakfast. Max walked up to her, “Mommy, the tooth fairy didn’t give me money.”

Confused, “Really? You . . . you’re sure, right? But she always-”

“Yeah. But she just gave me this, instead,” max handed her a picture with writing on the back.

Upon examining the picture, she looked confused, yet worried. Oh but when she read the back, she couldn’t help but cry in terror. She dropped the photo, her fingers shaking. In instinct, she ran to the phone.

On the back of the photo, it read:

Oh My Little Hero,

I gotta thank you for the best photo I have of you, you nude little soldier ;) and for you to even stare your beautiful eyes right into my camera, oh we would be great friends. I know I’ll be using this good photograph to good use. Hope, we’ll meet soon, big guy. Oh what am I saying; we will. We have.

      -A Special Friend

The photograph was that of a little boy, wearing briefs, an army hat, and nothing more.

Author's Note

Hi! So this the first story I've ever written. With that bee=ing said, I'd love to hear as many pro's and con's in my piece! Hope you have a good read n_n