Shadows.

I’m 5-years-old, alone in a dark room. As my eyes adjust, I see them. Shadows covering every inch of the white walls. They are ominous forms with long arms that reach out to me. I hide my face hoping they’ll go away. It’s scarier not to see, so I peek out around the blanket. A faceless shadow spots me and rushes down, flying back to the ceiling as another begins to swirl off the wall. They are taking turns, rushing me--I scream.

I still sleep with a nightlight.

Because I know when it’s dark, the shadows come.