The title screen of the “not too scary” horror film your friends convinced you to watch fades away to reveal the drab landscape. The trees are naked of branches, the sky empty, leaving too much space for creatures to fill. Your body and breath remain still in your paralyzed state of anticipation. Your limbs remain tucked in close so you can pull them away from your surroundings and bury your head in your makeshift shell.
The anticipation of anything terrifying, gross, or violent is enough to make you sick. You implore your friends to tell you when to look away.
But their warning comes too late, and soon enough, you lock eyes with The Creature.
Reaching more than 7 feet tall, The Creature’s bones protrude out of its hunched shoulders; gnarled stubs that daringly reach for the sky. A mixture of deep red and black, this creature seems to be a body turned inside out, at the very least, a body missing its flesh. Trapped in The Creature’s gaze, you stare open-mouthed in horror as The Creature’s pulsing form drags itself closer to the screen using its abnormally long appendages – appendages as long as the naked trees.
There’s still two hours to go and you’re already miserable. Your every cell remains taut as a bowstring, fearing the release of the arrow might be too much for your rapidly beating heart. How can anyone enjoy this feeling? The Creature alone has provided more horror than you can handle, and the repetitive blood and gore heightens your awareness of your internal make-up – trapping you in your own body. You can feel your blood churning in your veins, which feel vulnerable under such thin layers of skin and muscle. Something could easily rip into you; something could easily tear out of you. You are no longer in control; your body no longer feels like your own. This disconnect dulls the sounds of your muscles screaming for release as you tighten and constrict your shell.
When you finally make it through the end – many screams later – you breathe a huge sigh of relief. Exhaustion washes over you now that you can finally relieve your body’s tension. Thank god it’s over, you think.
Later that night, you decide to take a shower. You turn on a playlist and sing along as you bring the water temperature higher. Your thoughts flip back and forth between assignments you need to complete and dances you should practice. The soothing water has lulled you into a false sense of security, massaging shampoo into your scalp. While your eyes are closed you begin to sense a foreboding presence. The hairs on your arms raise and your chest tightens. Behind your closed eyelids you see The Creature.
Its fleshless face bores into you, causing you to shiver. The longer you keep your eyes closed, the more likely The Creature will act. As if reading your thoughts, The Creature begins to stretch out one branch-like appendage towards you.
Open your eyes.
Your eyes pop open to empty space in front of you. Shampoo drips down your forehead as you stare at the tiled wall. You then look at your bathroom’s familiar items, trying to convince yourself that the space is safe; the lavender-scented shampoo and conditioner bottles on the shelf, your cat-shaped rug by your sink, the pink speaker still playing music on the counter. Satisfied that you’ve checked each corner, you close your eyes again.
Big mistake.
The Creature’s back.
It's closer this time.
Close enough to feel its hot breath on your face, suffocating you. You try to tell yourself The Creature can’t be real. The last time you opened your eyes there was nothing there, and your bathroom is completely normal. But the presence doesn’t lessen. In fact, the impending sense of doom only grows, leaving you no choice.
You open your eyes.
Nothing.
After your somewhat traumatizing shower, you decide you need a late-night snack. Slipping on your pink slippers, you pad into the kitchen. With your phone open to Instagram in one hand, you reach for the chocolate chip cookies with the other. You munch and scroll in relative silence. But silence is the problem. Without copious amounts of noise to distract you, you realize the living room is cast in a gradient of shadows, the hallways pitch black.
Anything could be lurking there.
Your heart quickens alongside the recognition that you have stranded yourself on an island born of fluorescent light. You glance towards the hallway on your right, only to feel as if something watches you from the hallway to your left. You must not turn your back to the darkness, but the darkness is all around you. Your half-eaten cookie shakes in your grip as you slowly turn in circles, trying to keep each corner of darkness in sight. Your slowness worries you, what if you reach the next corner too slowly? You increase your speed, spinning endlessly until you become too dizzy to continue. Yet in that brief moment of stillness, you have made yourself vulnerable.
There is A Girl behind you.
Her features are hidden by lengthy, tangled black hair but you can still sense a menacing curiosity in her gaze. She has been watching you this entire time, twirling like a fool; getting closer and closer, waiting for an opening. With your back turned, you have provided that opening. And now A Girl breathes softly down your neck. Just as her hair begins to tickle your ear, you scream.
More lights flicker on, and your roommates find you crumpled on the floor, tears sliding down your face. You check behind you for A Girl.
Nothing.
Your roommates comfort you and suggest that you get some sleep. They help you into your bedroom and softly close the door. Safely tucked into bed, you nestle further under the covers and turn onto your side. Your eyes close and your breathing slows almost immediately, indicative of the day’s stressful events. That is, until the presence is back, and not just the presence but The Creature itself.
The Creature looms over you, and your fear forces you to turn over. I’ll check just this once. And yet again, there’s nothing. Your eyes strain to see better in the darkness as you scan your surroundings. Other than this, there is not much else you can do to ease your anxiety, so you turn over once more, eyes slowly closing. Immediately, The Creature is back. You want to scream and cry because when you turn you know there will be nothing, but if you ignore its presence, it will continue suffocating you. You turn around.
Nothing.
Defeated, you shift onto your back and stare at your bedroom ceiling. You must wait for your body to shut down completely of its own accord. The only way to keep The Creature at bay, is to keep your eyes open.
