The visor of dark apprehension

The natural fear of darkness we all humanly posses.

Like a black sheet it stretches its long claw-like fingers across the street, smothering the light and your confidence cowers along with it. Dim street lamps lined along the baron road flicker and buzz, threatening to abandon you to be swallowed by the merciless pit of black. You quicken your pace as does your fearful heartbeat, glancing around you see no comfort; no people around to offer solace, no one to bear witness to the eerie events committed in the confidentiality of darkness. Your breath escapes your parted lips in soft puffs of hot air, adding to the white fog hung low to the Earth. Anxiety surges through your veins like a paranoid drug and you glance over your shoulder frequently, your mind wandering to bizarre unlikely situations and you shudder, stuffing you balled hands into your pockets. Every sound perks your ears and you hold your breath in foolish anticipation. The unknown of the dark is what fuels your ever growing fear; it provokes such mixed feelings of uneasiness, paranoia, uncertainty. You squint your eyes desperately at every corner and tree you pass, expecting to find a threat lurking in the shadow, licking its slimy lips greedily. The town seems deserted as you amble on in a bubble of apprehension and you wonder why you placed yourself in such a trepid situation. The darkness seems to grin vindictively, fuelled by your fear, silently mocking you from the sidelines with its invasive, piercing stare. You suck in your breath as you hear echoing footsteps nearby and unobtrusively steal sideways glances to pinpoint the source. The night seems to crawl, shifting around corners to follow your path and the hair on the back of your neck pricks up. You snap your head to the side and see a shadowed figure leaning leisurely against a building. A dark hood shields their face but your heart races as their head slowly moves to mirror your position. Your feet are mildly jogging now, eager to get to your destination. The familiar house breaks through the thick fog in front of you and you stumble up the stairs in a flurry. You steal a quick peek behind you and see the figure leaning casually against a neighbouring house and fumble with the key flustered. You fling open the door, step inside and slam it closed, snapping the lock in place. Relief washes over and you finally let out your breath but you can’t help but feed your human curiosity, you peek out the peep hole on you front door but see no one surveying, no one stalking or preying. You laugh at yourself for getting so worked up and turn around to go to bed. You gasp and clutch your speeding chest with white knuckles when you see a shadowed figure staring blankly at you from across the hall and you cringe back against the door. Instinctively you reach for the light, snapping it on terrified. You squint into the distance through the blinding light and collapse against the wall. The figure across from you is no menacing being at all; you find yourself staring at your mirrored image on the glass back door. You laugh again and regain your composure. Moving past your reflection to the ascending stairs you have one final thought. We fear what we cannot see. You do not see the figure who had been lurking in the darkened corner where no light could expose it, the figure that grinned menacingly as it silently followed you up the stairs.

Author's Note

i know i didnt paragraph this at all but I didn't want to for this particular short story. Not sure why

Reviews

[The Perfectionist]

Not all of us are scared of the dark, you know. Some of us actually like it, prefer not to have to see what's out there. Assuming we can control our own imaginations. But anyway.

Your spelling is better than your grammar, thankfully, I only counted once where you said 'you' and you meant 'your'. There are missing commas and unnecessary punctuation all over this thing, but I suppose that's to be expected when you write it all in one bloody paragraph on a whim.

Now that I'm looking it over in the context of a story, it's actually not that bad. The language is of appropriate level, and I can at least get the sense of the mood you are trying to set, even if you don't quite get there. The story is just too short to drag the reader into the mindset you're setting, and you're not a good enough horror writer to do it in the limited time you have (no offense meant there, I don't know anyone who is).

The ending is a welcome twist, but this story really depends on setting the mood, and it doesn't quite work. You know how when you're six, you can sit around the campfire with your dad and he'll tell a ridiculous ghost story, but it'll scare the crap out of you 'cause you're six and don't know better? That's what this feels like. It might be enthralling to a lesser, younger mind, but to an adult it's just a mediocre read.