New Room, New Worries

When I was five, I moved into a new house. It was bigger than my old home, meaning I had more room to run around and lay out my toys. I even had my own room. The closet was filled with my clothes, and the desk was meant only for me. During the day, light filtered in through the crisp white curtains. Everything was bright and warm. I was at home.

But at night, my new room changed completely. The eerie, pale moonlight hovered over the objects in my room, creating menacing monsters ready to seize me at any moment. And this time, my sister wasn’t in the bottom bunk to protect me.  I heard creaking. Was that my parents as they walked up the stairs?  Or the creature under my bed shifting his weight?

I had to find out. As I leaned over to peer under the bed, my heart began to race. My hands shook violently as I reached for the bed skirt. I violently pulled the covers, ready to encounter a being with glowing red eyes and long black claws.

There was nothing.

Still shaken, I ran to my parent’s door and dragged my dad to my room, making him inspect every nook and cranny, ensuring that everything was safe. This repeated for many nights. However, as the days dragged on, my house became more familiar. The cloud of darkness came to envelop me like a warm blanket rather than trap me. At first, the dark may have been frightening at times, but I came to realize that’s what made the morning sun all the more brighter.

Fears help us better appreciate the comforting aspects of life.  

Word Count: 270