Invisible Daemons

It's here again; that "not quite alone" feeling you get when you go downstairs in the dark fumbling for the blessed switch for the kitchen and something slithers away on the edge of your vision, causing you to quickly break out into a cold swear, swinging around to find the lampshade swinging gently in the breeze (breeze?!) and you sharply exhale in a calmed sense of relief.

Your bare feet are unpleasantly tickled by the cold linoleum of the floor, wary of the door to the staircase you begin to satisfy the angry, impatient voices willing you to eat, approaching the refrigerator as its beautiful hum makes your stomach growl and whine. Having made your toast and poured your glass of milk you begin to ascend the stairs; the paranoia already defused. There it is again! Clambering quickly from view and rustling the shadow of the Christmas tree, it's cheap ornaments clinking with that awful plastic "ting". Paranoia settling back into its rightful place takes a hold of you and you stumble blindly up the staircase, spilling milk and crumbs all over the carpet.

You enter the false safety of your bedroom, trying to reassure yourself that the room is sacred and safe - It does only have one door- and you sit quietly in the artificial light; eating and drinking quickly and cautiously so you can wrap yourself in that duvet and wander away to sleep in your safe cocoon.

And then you forget the event entirely, right? And now you're remembering all the times that has happened and you're shivering and feeling the need to find that duvet again, right?

My... "Paranoia" as I'll now call it couldn't end in my long forgotten dreams, or wrapped in the warmth of the new sheets my Mother had bought me about two days before: The feeling never left and I spent the night curled against the door, clutching the leg of a football table - bloodied by the first... thing to succeed in entering my room - attempting to shut out the howls of blood lust as each thing threw itself against my door, I could only despair as I imagined the soon to be slaughtered sleeping corpses of my family in the rooms inches from my own.

It was a long night.


The End

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