She stands at the end of the hallway
I pause before the light switch, reluctant to plunge my room into indecisive darkness—the kind that sways between calming and eerie. I sigh. At this point, my hesitation has become a nightly ritual.
“You’re being childish,” I whisper to the air, internally kicking my nearly 30-year old brain.
Even so, I remain frozen. For I know, once I turn off the light, she will return. She has a habit of standing at the end of the hallway, or at least, I imagine she does. Visually, she appears as a young girl, maybe 10 years old. I say “appears” because her malevolent presence is far from that of an innocent child. I do not know what she, or rather it, is, and I certainly do not want to find out.
She spoke to me once during that undefined time between late night and early morning. I awoke to the sound of shuffling fabric in my room, and just like I am now, I was motionless. Stillness fell shortly after, but then, from the hallway that connects to the far end of my room, I heard a tiny voice.
“Can I borrow your pillow?”
My limbs became rigid, and I tried to shout “no,” but my lips were useless. I could not move.
“No, no, no, no, NO, NO,” she echoed, taunting my inability to speak. With each word her tone shifted to a gravely, deep, and demonic one, while still retaining a touch of childish youth.
I desperately tried to move, tried to free myself from the paralyzed state. I did not want to hear her next words or see her manipulated form. Her voice continued getting louder, and just as it reached its peak, I managed to move my index finger and then shot into an upright position. Her chanting vanished, and in that moment, I was so relieved. I had freed myself from her hold.
However, now, as I stand before the light switch, I wonder if I made the right choice. Perhaps, I should have let her finish the game. Ever since that first meeting, she has tainted the shadows of my room with unresolved business. I feel her, smirking in the blackness, always. I just want to feel safe again.
Author’s note:
Full disclosure, I am sitting on my bed typing this vignette in an attempt to validate the memory. I am hoping that by revealing her presence, I can gain closure, and she will leave me alone. Right now, it is nighttime, and I am sitting with the lights off, afraid to abandon the glow of my computer scree
Shit.
I don’t think she likes that I wrote about her.