I really, really hate dark windows. When the lights are on in the house and it’s dark outside, and you can’t see anything beyond that reflective glass; that’s where I have issues. Well, tonight it’s late, past midnight actually, and very dark, and I can’t see beyond that glass in my bedroom window.
Anything or anyone could be out there, ranging from the relatively innocent peeping toms, to psychopathically homicidal maniacs. Maniacs with chainsaws, or bazookas most likely. At the very least those maniacs carry Uzi submachine guns and an unlimited supply of armor-piercing bullets.
Screw it. My mind enjoys messing me up big time. Of course it does… how else could I have visualized every sort of monster, demon, creature, villain and (let’s not forget) zombie taking positions outside that very window?
Wait. What was that noise? It came from outside, I think. It sounds like the chatter of some seriously sharp, pointed teeth. I’d know that sound from anywhere since I often fantasize that werewolves are about to attack.
No, not chattering teeth, how could I be so freaking stupid? This is clearly the sound of huge claws scraping on glass. My heart skips about twenty beats while I try to get out of sight of that window, which is impossible and I know it. I try anyway, and end up pressed into a corner with the knobs on my dresser poking into my spine.
If I can just get to the light switch without this horrible thing crashing through that pane of glass and killing me, I’ll be fine. I try, really hard, but my knees are trembling like jelly and are refusing to move my body across the room.
The sound comes again, this time a low growl, like that of a demon. I jump with fear and nearly break my back by slamming against that dresser with the force of an F5 tornado. The piece of furniture, solid as it is, rocks like a cradle under the force of my blow.
There it is again, that little gruesome chuckle from outside the glass. I suddenly decide that I need a vacation to somewhere bright, where there are no windows. A damp, dingy basement, with a lot of lights… that should do it.
My knees buckle at the sound of raspy breathing from outside the window, and I sink to the carpet. I crawl toward the far side of my bed, where at least I can hide and think for a bit. The crawling seems to take forever, perhaps because I haven’t crawled since I was about eleven months old and it has stopped being a practical form of transportation.
The breathing is now horrifying whispers of the sort I will never un-hear, and I just wish this night could be over already. I glance up, and for the first time since this horror began, I look at the window I swear I can see red, glowing eyeballs staring back.
This is too much, so I crawl for the door near where the light switch lives, and stretch my arm upward to try to snag that little flippy thing that brings brightness to my world. The flippy thing evades my fingers and I’m forced to stand.
Got it. I flip the flipper and the light comes on overhead. It blinds me and all I can see at first when I look out the window is huge, multi-colored spots of light. This is frustrating but I wait for my sight to clear and the scenery within the window gradually takes shape.
I see a person with her hand on a wall, staring back at me and looking really scared. I jump and so does she. Oh, wait. What an idiot I am, that IS me, or at least, my reflection. So I am the face in the window. I’m my own worst fear.
I laugh, I’m so silly. I chuckle at my own irrational fears, my frightened-looking twin in the glass chuckles with me, and so does the ugly, blood-soaked hulk with the machete, who is standing behind her. I feel hot, stagnant breath blowing on the back of my neck.
The girl in the window stops chuckling.
