In my childhood, the thing I remember the most was the comfort of my house. At one point, the warm and inviting home I used to know disappeared. My mother’s and father’s constant fights and my father’s condition made a once loving home very distant to me. Soon after my father’s death, the house had that old, warm welcome to it. My mom was not around much anymore; she had a lot of work, so my grandmother and I were most of the time all alone in this big house.
I kicked off my shoes and made my way to the living room, where the TV was still on, casting a soft glow across the room. My sweet grandmother, Dorothy, was a sweet and loving woman with a touch of gray in her hair. She had the warmest smile: “Welcome home, Adrian; dinner will be ready in a moment.”
“Thanks, grandma,” I replied, with a smile on my face that looked cold compared to hers.
As I made myself comfortable on the couch, my eyes began to feel heavy.
The next thing I remember was the sound of the front door opening. I blinked, trying to focus my eyes on the dark figure entering the room. It moved slowly, and the house was quiet except for the faint hum of the refrigerator and the occasional creaks of the old wooden floor below the dark figure. As the figure moved closer, it sent shivers down my spine, and my heart began to race as fear started to creep into my mind. I tried my hardest to focus my eyes, but the harder I tried, the more the figure became distorted, as if it were made of smoke. The room suddenly felt colder, and a sense of unease was in the air. I was yelling to myself to run, but I was paralyzed, unable to move or make a single sound.
The figure came closer, and my breath hitched as I recognized the shape of a woman. My fear evaporated as I realized that the figure resembled my mother. The figure reached out and gently placed a hand on my shoulder. I felt warmth and comfort instead of the coldness I expected when I saw the figure for the first time. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I could actually see that it was my mother standing there.
“Adrian,” she whispered softly, what are you doing here this late? It is three in the morning.”
I reached out to touch her hand. I had to make sure that it was real, and it felt warm and real.
“Mom? What are you doing this late?”
“I had some work to do, and then I couldn’t sleep because of our conversation yesterday. I was driving around for a very long time, just thinking.”
She sighed and threw herself into the comfortable embrace of the armchair next to the couch. Her face was covered with a shadow, leaving only her figure visible. I tried to squint and make out her features, hoping to catch a glimpse of her face, but the shadow remained there, refusing to reveal her face. My mind started playing tricks on me, and I questioned myself if this was real. Was it really my mother or some creature created by my imagination?
“I am sorry about what happened last night. I didn’t mean to upset you.” I was being honest; I really didn’t mean that; things just excelled too quickly.
My mother looked at me with a mix of sadness and frustration. “Adrian, it is not just about what happened last night; it is about everything. I am worried about you, son, about your behavior and the things you keep to yourself. I know there’s something going on, but you won’t let me in.”
I sighed and stood up. “I know it’s hard to understand, mom, but there are things I can’t talk about, not even with you. There are things I can’t really remember. It's like there’s a dark cloud hanging over my mind, and I can’t escape from it.”
She reached out to hold my hand. “Adrian, maybe it is time we seek professional help. Let’s find a therapist or someone who can guide you through this. You don’t have to face it all alone. I would love to help you myself, like I tried many times before, but in this case, I think looking for help from somebody else would be a much better option for you.”
I agreed and nodded in silence. I didn’t have anything else to add to the conversation, but I was happy we resolved the issue from last night. She kissed me on my right cheek, which I never liked and would always complain about, but this time I decided to keep quiet and watch her shadow climb the stairs. Later, I was glad I didn’t say anything that night, because that was the last time I saw my mother, or at least the last time that I saw her alive. But of course, I didn’t even think about that; I just got to my room, where I dozed off without even realizing it.
The next thing I remember is waking up to darkness all around me. I thought that I somehow fell asleep and woke up very soon after. I was thirsty and hungry. I got out of bed; the silence was louder than ever before, and I went to the kitchen. I opened the fridge, and all the food was rotten. The bad smell made me close the fridge and get out to get some fresh air. Outside, there was a big moon looking down on me. Twisted and gnarled trees loomed over me, their branches resembling the arms of the undead trying to reach me.
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Everything felt weird, even the air. I ran back inside, looking for my mother and grandmother. I checked every corner of the house; there was no one there; I was left alone. Panic started to settle in as I ran out of the house, slamming the door shut, and ran straight to town. The houses, once charming and colorful, now stood gray and decayed. Their walls were covered in thick layers of dark moss and cobwebs. The cafes and shops were empty and abandoned, their windows and doors boarded up. I peeked between the small gaps through the window, only to see darkness looking straight back at me.
The streets were eerily quiet; the only sound you could hear was my loud footsteps as I looked for anything alive and the wind howling and following me. Shadows danced around me, twisting and making unsettling shapes. Anything that used to be alive was now dead or rotten. The fountain in the center that used to shine under the sunlight was now dried up and cracked, its water replaced by a thick, green sludge. Everything looked wrong, but at the same time, it looked right. This was my town, but at the same time it was not. Instead of happiness, this place was filled with darkness and despair; the very essence of life seemed to have been drained. I was the only living thing there. I had to catch my breath, so I stood under the streetlight, flickering until it died, leaving me all alone in the dark. The few remaining signs of life besides me looked haunted and unnatural. Once the beautiful and colorful flowers in the park were pale and withering in the cold air, the trees deformed.
Then the bell rang from the church, and the town became alive again, but not in the way I expected. Shadows of the people, real people I knew, walked around; their faces were hollow and expressionless, their eyes without any emotion or life, empty and dark. They moved slowly, without purpose, as if their bodies were weighed down by the heavy darkness that surrounded them. There was no warmth, no light, and no life. This was a world consumed by darkness, where death ruled; it was like a nightmare.
But this can’t be real, right? I didn’t know how to check it; I had no plan, so I decided to run back to my house again. I ran, as I had never run before, afraid that something would reach out and grab me, dragging me into the darkness and making me one of them. But no one did; nothing happened; the shadow-like creatures never looked at me; they just lingered around the town. It was like I didn’t even exist.
I got back to the house, but as I was entering, I heard something that made me stop. Did I really hear something, or is my mind playing tricks on me? Then my heart stopped as I heard it again. It was my mom. It sounded like the sound came from the forest; I didn’t even think for a moment; I just ran towards it. The darkness of the forest swallowed me whole; I could barely see anything. Maybe it was for the best; who knows what’s hiding in the forest? It's better if I don’t see it. I just kept following the screams; they would stop sometimes, but very soon I could hear them again. It was difficult moving around in the forest covered in darkness; I had to be careful not to fall and twist my ankle.
“Adrian!” the voice of my mother called me. Adrian, please!" She knew I was coming; I had to hurry up. My mind was pacing; all the crazy things that could’ve been happening kept storming my thoughts. I fell and got back up many times, then something grabbed me by my leg and didn’t let go. There was a green, rotten hand around my ankle, holding me tight, and it wouldn’t let go. I screamed as I punched it over and over again, keeping my eyes closed because of the fear. I didn’t even know what I was hitting anymore; I didn’t know anything. My mother's cries were banging in my eardrums, and I felt as if I'd go crazy from the sound. I looked down at my leg; the rotten hand holding me just moments ago was not there anymore, but instead of it, there was a root of the nearby tree where my leg got trapped. I somehow got out of it, and I continued running, the branches scratching my face and the shadows following me.
Before I even realized it, I stood in front of the butcher's house. I felt like I was paralyzed; I couldn’t move. My eyes locked on the butcher's house, and the house looked back. The air felt heavy, my legs felt like they belonged to someone else, and I had no control over my body.
“Adrian!! Stop! Get away!” I brushed off the fear; I acted like I did, but it was still here. But I had no choice; I had to help my mother, and I entered the butcher's house. The hidden passage was already opened; it was not closed. Only two more people knew of this place; one couldn’t do it, and the other was dead. Is this hell? It must be; there was no other explanation. But what am I doing here? Only the person or thing down there can give me an answer to my questions. I rushed there, which wasn’t the smartest thing to do, but I had no options left and no time.
The darkness swallowed me whole; I couldn’t move. A dim light was hanging above the chair where my mother was tied up. I tried to scream, ”Get away from her!” but I couldn’t. My mother couldn’t see me, but the shadow standing next to her with a knife in its hands could. It looked straight at me, a big deformed smile on its face, a knife in one hand that went straight through my mother's right eye. She screamed, and the blood, which was gray, spilled everywhere. She kept screaming, and the shadow kept laughing. It pulled the knife out, the eye hanging there, and then slowly turned around, looking at me, while it started eating the eye. My mother begged, “Please, we can work this out.” She was stuttering; she was afraid; the shadow didn’t care. With his fingers, he gouged out the other eye, feasting on it, feasting on my mother’s and my fear. And then, with a simple movement, the knife went over my mother’s throat, and the light in her eyes disappeared. I knew she had died, and then I woke up.