Dangers of the Dark
folder
Vampire › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
5
Views:
2,828
Reviews:
20
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Vampire › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
5
Views:
2,828
Reviews:
20
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.
Dangers of the Dark
Prologue
I have never understood why they called my dislike of the darkness a fear of it. I didn’t fear it, per se. I found it to be calming and tranquil. It was what hid in the dark I feared. The dark showed nothing to my eyes. It caused the noises to seem foreign to my ears. Everything was magnified in the dark. My mother’s late night walk became a serial killer’s stalk to my room, for my death. My parents said it was normal, I believed them.
They did the normal parent thing. Bought me a night-light, kept the hall light on, and made me watch every night as they locked the doors and windows to our house. They thought it would calm my nerves, but it didn’t.
I was an odd child. As soon as the normal childhood fears were stopped, the abnormal ones happen. I didn’t fear humans. My parents had a state of the art security system. The doors were dead bolted. We lived in a gated community, with security guards at every entrance. No, I found my fears of humans attacking me in the dark unreasonable. It was the supernatural I feared.
I knew about vampires, werewolves, and the mystical nature. Not from those cheesy old Hollywood movies, but from my parents’ library. For some reason I never knew or questioned, they had an entire section on the truths about these creatures. I remember many hours spent in that little corner reading those thick volumes over and over until I memorized them. Those memorized lines snuck into my dreams and turned them into nightmares that seemed so real, I confused them with my true life. It may seem stupid that I didn’t stop reading the books, but as my nights became more plagued, I hungered for more about the creatures. I thought if I knew more, I wouldn’t have to fear them. But I could never figure out enough, and my parents worried.
I remember at ten, seeing my first psychiatrist about my nightmares. He was pleasant enough. He called what I had night terrors and claimed they were perfectly natural. I got some sleeping pills that never helped.
One day, I was hidden in the library when my mother came in. She saw the books I was reading and took me away, murmuring under her breath things I didn’t hear, and probably wouldn’t have understood anyway. That night she packed up all the supernatural books in the house, and donated them to good will.
I got that long speech about the difference between fiction and reality from my parents, and again from the same psychiatrist.
I stopped believing that day in the creatures of the night. Soon, the area in the library was filled with popular pre-teen books. My nightlight was tossed in the garbage. I made friends with the kids in the neighborhood. I seemed like an average boy.
That was until I found that part of my past again. And it decided it wanted all of me this time. In both the darkness and the light.
I have never understood why they called my dislike of the darkness a fear of it. I didn’t fear it, per se. I found it to be calming and tranquil. It was what hid in the dark I feared. The dark showed nothing to my eyes. It caused the noises to seem foreign to my ears. Everything was magnified in the dark. My mother’s late night walk became a serial killer’s stalk to my room, for my death. My parents said it was normal, I believed them.
They did the normal parent thing. Bought me a night-light, kept the hall light on, and made me watch every night as they locked the doors and windows to our house. They thought it would calm my nerves, but it didn’t.
I was an odd child. As soon as the normal childhood fears were stopped, the abnormal ones happen. I didn’t fear humans. My parents had a state of the art security system. The doors were dead bolted. We lived in a gated community, with security guards at every entrance. No, I found my fears of humans attacking me in the dark unreasonable. It was the supernatural I feared.
I knew about vampires, werewolves, and the mystical nature. Not from those cheesy old Hollywood movies, but from my parents’ library. For some reason I never knew or questioned, they had an entire section on the truths about these creatures. I remember many hours spent in that little corner reading those thick volumes over and over until I memorized them. Those memorized lines snuck into my dreams and turned them into nightmares that seemed so real, I confused them with my true life. It may seem stupid that I didn’t stop reading the books, but as my nights became more plagued, I hungered for more about the creatures. I thought if I knew more, I wouldn’t have to fear them. But I could never figure out enough, and my parents worried.
I remember at ten, seeing my first psychiatrist about my nightmares. He was pleasant enough. He called what I had night terrors and claimed they were perfectly natural. I got some sleeping pills that never helped.
One day, I was hidden in the library when my mother came in. She saw the books I was reading and took me away, murmuring under her breath things I didn’t hear, and probably wouldn’t have understood anyway. That night she packed up all the supernatural books in the house, and donated them to good will.
I got that long speech about the difference between fiction and reality from my parents, and again from the same psychiatrist.
I stopped believing that day in the creatures of the night. Soon, the area in the library was filled with popular pre-teen books. My nightlight was tossed in the garbage. I made friends with the kids in the neighborhood. I seemed like an average boy.
That was until I found that part of my past again. And it decided it wanted all of me this time. In both the darkness and the light.