• The darkness was eerie, spreading around the room, greedily swallowing anything the light did not capture, as it it’d let go, it’d loose it all. The clock chimed, seemingly mocking the girl in every way, every time the miniature hand moved, dragging it’s fragile body against the grandfather’s clocks huge surface, it silently mocked her. And it was nearly midnight. Simon had once said, following the famous phrase `there is nothing to fear but fear itself`, “The fuel when you are put in such situations are ghost stories. You cast their gruesome continents away in daylight, but when enwrapped the fearful home of darkness, it will buzz in your brain like a fly but you’ll never be able to swat it away. Nothing more terrifying.” Terrifying indeed. The palms of her small hands were sweaty; her raven hair stuck to her fair skin, the pale female loathing whatever was to come. This is absolutely stupid, she told herself. But somehow, when the grandfather clock struck the hour, the twelve rings only seemed to convince the girl otherwise. And Sydney shut her eyes. Her gasps of air and her racing heart drowned out the monotone sound of the chiming – opening her hazel eyes, she glanced around. Nothing, as of yet. Sydney then attempted to calm her breathing, desperately trying to drown her thoughts and concentrate on not over-reacting. Somehow, this didn’t work and she knew it wouldn’t protect her from the truth; the only thing she wanted to avoid, yet the only thing her conscience wanted. But he was there, no matter what, anyways. They were the same, even though Sydney had grown and the other had stayed the same, stuck in a never-changing cycle. His unkempt raven hair dawdled on his head, quite dark on his snow-white skin; one nearly-black eye glancing from the underneath, the other was covered by a white eye patch, as if it was keeping something horrid from escaping into this world. He lifted his eyes to the girl he used to know so well. The shadows had gotten a hold of him too. They devoured his minuscule frame, holding and cradling him as if he was the one that kept them tame.
    “So you came,” he said, not even a murmur, his lips unmoving as the air guided them to her ears, playing out both her favorite melody and her most hated insult. She was visibly shaking, and he just stood and glared at her. Sebastian didn’t want her there. He didn’t want Sydney close to him – fearing she might be swallowed, just like himself. The only thing more terrible then what she had heard, witnessing for herself, the gruesome reality – he couldn’t be saved. This was their last encounter, unless the raven-haired girl wanted to be drawn into insanity as well. Or possibly even death, but Sydney stepped forward. She was stubborn; denying all facts and rejecting any doubt. Taking two more steps, she clenched her sweating pulsing fists, her knuckles white. Deeply inhaling, she grabbed the white eye patch sewn to her brother’s right eye, and tore it off.
    This had been the worst idea Sydney had had in her short life. Her pupils grew, the patch clenched in her hand. White symbolized death in her culture, and now she knew why. Thousands, billions of tiny dark arms and hands seeped out of the socket. Sebastian yelled something in distress, but it was muffled after one of the appendages clamped itself over his mouth. It was hard to believe, but each one was different. Some had beady eyes, glaring at the one who set them free. Others had mouths hanging their tongues out like dogs, eager to eat. They sang a song, the tune of a lullaby.

    Dear dear little girl
    Who I wonder, who you are
    To let us out, into sight
    To let us out, what a fright!

    The lyrics disturbed the raven-haired girl, hazel orbs searching for an exit of the small quarters. But they were everywhere, mocking her, nipping at fair skin, creating small lacerations. They say cancer is the number one killer. But during the night of feasts, the culprit was not cancer. In fact, it was attempted bravery. And most of all – fear. When fear arises, you are supposed to run, and cower, since there was nothing to fear but fear itself. The fear had gone for something, that night. Her.