Time Is a Killer

Most people feared the dark or at least avoided it; the cracks, the small places which lay between what can and can't be seen. I find those people to be blind for true monsters walked in the light, daily. Humans. However, I can’t explain the darkness in this hallway. Its almost developed a life of its own. I pull the door open. The world before me wears a veil of rain. Small sounds like the heaving gutters, the solemn chiming of the old church and distant chatter of leaves left me wondering why everything feels so wrong. I’m not sure what feels so wrong and that leaves my me on edge. A frail thought creeps, unbidden in my mind, no one's here. Is it just my mind playing tricks on me or a stupid, careless prank? It feels like someone's here. Why does it feel so horrible in a way it makes my stomach turn inside out? Peering down the street and past the unevenly built houses with missing tiles, grimy lattice windows and disheveled lawns, I find myself alone. Pausing, my eyes flick pass the fog. I sigh. Maybe I am just a little mad. I shut the door. I let out a shrill scream with shatters the brittle air. My eyes meet with something that should only occur in nightmares. Nothing can prepare for the insanity which takes over my conscience and all things deemed humane. A strangely familiar silhouette stands in the torrents of black in the hallway. This is the familiar I hate. It is as if a horror movie has come to life to watch my sanity ebb away. It is prickly, unwanted and the core of all fears. At first all I can see is shifting shadows but as my eyes adjust to the dark its features fall into place. Its eyes stand out against the shadows, huge and a watery grey like the ones in the nightmare I have been having lately. Its hair melts into the growing shadows leaving it as shapeless as the rain. It is barely a shadow of a figure.