The creatures of the dark are real.
They lurk inside your room, hidden in the cloak of darkness. Even through the light of day, they still thrive in the pitch of unlit crevices.
They watch as you undress in the safety of your empty room, staring as you hum melodies in the brightness of day and go about your daily chores. They observe as you blast music through your headphones, venturing closer behind you, only to fade in the darkness when your loved one calls.
But they’re there.
They observe you through the cover of night, as you drift to sleep in bed, and as you toss to the tranquility of your dreams. They hover over you, their dark eyes brilliant with intrigue, sniffing at your hair and running their drooping noses over your face, and their claws across your neck.
In the dark. When you’re alone. When you’re most vulnerable.
Is it sheer curiosity that drives them? Adoration, maybe? Or is it hate for us creatures of the light?
I guess we’ll never know for sure. But they’re real, nonetheless.
