The Unread Book Of Words by Roy E Parker - HTML preview

                                The Dark

The lights flickered once, twice and slowly dimmed and fade   into nothing as the dark sucked the life from the light. Then all there   was, was the dark, but not the silence of the night, not the night, just the unwelcome lack of light. Clark struggled in this blackness for a moment before his fear took over and he struck a match and lit the candle before him. The single flame danced into life and spread out a warm orange light, driving back the dark a little way but not far, not far enough for Clark.

 The small room was alive now with shapes and shadows which    seemed to move around the walls as if to circle him, it made him shiver. They were waiting for their  chance and as soon as he wasn't looking or paying attention they would strike and all his imaginary horror would turn real. He would be swallowed up by the dark and would become a part of the dark, perhaps even one of the shadows for who knows what happens once the darkness takes you.

There was a shuffling over to his right, or was there? Maybe he had imagined it the dark plays tricks, toys with you, plays with your subconscious until you are no longer sure of what's real and what's not. He suddenly realised that he had been holding his breath and he let go of it, annoyed at the intrusive noise his exhaling made while he was straining to hear. to hear what was outside of his door, outside but trying to get in maybe, maybe not. Could it be that it was already inside the room? Had it been dark long enough for it, for something, something unspeakable to have sneaked in and was the weak light from the candle not enough to drive it away again?  Was it already there just waiting for the candle to die, to burn out and then when he was at the mercy of the dark they would savour his fear for a moment and then, then they would come for him while he was blind and defenceless. The fear began to grow to intolerant levels within him.

They said that he was mad. "Silly to be afraid of the dark." But he knew they were there, coming for him, waiting their chance. "What is it, what is there?" they asked him mockingly. But how could he tell them? they were so unspeakable, there were no words adequate to describe them and so he keeps quiet and just for a moment he thinks that he hears a malevolent chuckle coming out from a dark corner of the room.

He was sure that no matter where he goes they go too, hiding, watching, waiting always from the darkened shadows, the dark places. Under a table, a dresser, in the wardrobe and under the bed and at night; well, that was the worst time because even when the light was on there was always shadows, always the shadows and he could feel them watching him from out of the dark. Yes he is sure of it he occasionally caught glimpses of red malevolent eyes burning with hunger and bloodlust staring out from the dark. They watch him, they are hungry for him and they are hunting him. Although he never actually saw them, no they were too clever to allow that but he knew they were there, always watching, always waiting, waiting for their chance, until it was dark enough and then they would come for him, swift and sure with teeth and claw and vicious intent and the more that he hid in the light the more angry they got and the more hungry they got for him and they were so very, very hungry now.

He could feel their hatred and hunger tonight, sense its very presence in that dimly lit room as real, as real as he was. Yes, they wanted to feast upon him, he could almost see their drooling, salivating monstrous mouths lined with needle sharp teeth. Wait! was that a snarl he could hear?

The candle dimmed for a second and then as they do spluttered back to life. He wondered were they actually trying to blow out what was left of the candle? Oh why did he not replace it with a fresh one when he had the chance? And now it was very much shorter than it had been, why was it burning down so quickly? why had the power gone out? It was them, somehow, he knew it was them doing these things they were so cunning, relentless in their pursuit of him and now they had him just where they wanted him, but for the ever shrinking candle and its weak light he would be at there mercy, and he knew that mercy would be in short supply this night. Time was running out, the hunters had finally run down their prey only a very few short moments left. Clark pulled the covers up over his head searching for the comfort and protection of the womb.

The terrible, terrible screams and grotesque noises of a fresh living - dying body being torn and devoured by creatures of nightmares making went unheeded and all that remained of Clark was a small blood stain on a blanket which the two policemen looked down upon.

Johnson never liked the dark, but in the cellar the electrician examined in the dim light some damaged power cables. They looked like they had been chewed through, not cut for sure. Rats maybe, probably, but the dark cellar made him feel especially uneasy, he had a feeling that he was being watched from out of the dark. He quickly made his repairs and left.

Johnson called in on the two policemen and turning on the now working lights all three men gazed at the blood stain on the blanket. "Was it cut?" asked one of the policemen.

"No, rats I think....I don't know about you but this place gives me the creeps." replied Johnson.

Just then he thought he had seen from the corner of his eye two red hungry eyes staring out at him from out of the darkness of the wardrobe, he had a feeling that it wouldn't be the last time he saw it either, he felt he was being stalked by something. Of course it could have been his imagination, what with the blood and all, it could have seen his imagination.

Couldn't it?