I was practically dating him. I couldn’t leave him no matter what everyone else said. It’s not that I didn’t want to; he was already a part of me. I knew he was not good for me but I couldn’t gather the courage to tell him “it’s over”.
I was always scared he might pounce on me and beat me black and blue like he always threatened. His claws were as sharp as razor. He had a weird way of getting into my head, shutting me out from the rest of the world and tormenting me beyond imagination. One time, he made me run the race of my life that sent me into coma – he chased me out of my house using a machete.
I’m scared of sleeping, for he is there too, in my dreams – short, fat, figure with these bushy brows fixed to his huge black face. Those bulging red eyes which he always fixed intently on me neither gave me the chance to blink nor breathe. I shivered in his presence. He was inseparable from darkness, so I hated the dark. I dreaded stepping out at night to avoid meeting him.
The memories of the night I almost screamed myself to death at the sight of him still lingers. His stench had filled the whole room. Flashing a half smile, he crawled slowly towards me, threatening to burn me with the balls of fire in his hands if I should shout. He made attempts to top me. I shouted anyway, but it was like no one heard. When he finally left, I had instant paralysis from head to toe. The fear was intense. I had had the height of it.
He really made my life a living hell until one day. I decided to stop giving him power over me. He had come as usual. However, despite his efforts to scare me, I refused getting scared. That day, I fought him head on. I took the bold step to shout to his face – IT IS OVER! And to my surprise, he turned and left, defeated, without doing anything. He smiled and said I finally grew up, for the first time. No need telling you how I felt afterwards. He had left, and never came back.
His name is Nyctophobia – the fear of darkness.
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