They Are Outside Your Window

Do not fear the darkness that wraps around your feet. Do not look for the demons in your closet or under your bed because, fret not, you will find nothing there. Do not stay awake under your sheets, paralyzed in fear due to the invisible hand or imaginary eyes. They are not there. Nothing. Nothing is there to harm you. Stay snug under your covers, for all the monsters you saw today are now outside. Do not worry, however, for lying there in your room as dread fills your mind with visions of the upcoming and rising sun that begins a new, terrible day will only weaken you. Rest now, love. The doors are locked. The windows are closed. 

They are closed, aren't they? 

Go. Run now. Close them quickly. Do not leave them open. Do not leave them unlocked. Do not decide that going one night without checking to see if they are still locked will not hurt. Because it will. Oh, it will hurt. Rest your sleepy head onto your little pillow and drift off to sleep without checking that window, I dare you. I dare you to close your eyes whilst something enters your room. Something that parts both the light and the darkness. Light is not your enemy and darkness was not your captor. They were your protectors. And you let them down. 

So, yes. I dare you to rest, the feeling of pumping adrenaline absent from your veins. The sheer power and energy that could have given you a fighting chance. Yet, there you are. Asleep. Defenseless. You feel something tickle your leg, a feeling so light and gentle that you mistaken it for a loose thread on your blanket. You drowsily shift. Then, you feel it again. A minuscule pang of fear that an insect has crawled under your sheets. That small pang of fear, that mere hint of worry bolts you up. This is your first mistake. The creased hands feeling your soft legs freeze. The eyes in your closet watch you intently as you swing your feet onto your floor. A hot breath shakily pants onto the back of your ankles. You feel it. You feel it all. The hands, the breath, the emerging sweat, the thousands of eyes watching you shake. Yet you can't see them. But they can see you and the curtains that shiver in the midnight breeze.