by Vincent Culp

Created on: January 31, 2007   Last Updated: September 21, 2011

Jeremy sat alone on his bed and cried. All around him the darkness swelled and roiled like an inky black tide.

Jeremy sat alone, curled into a fetal ball at the head of his bed as the ebon tar ate at the walls of his room and crept slowly up the side of his mattress.

He was alone, not only in the room, but in the house as well. His parents had left him with a sitter, but she had already been swallowed by the shadow that now threatened to take him as well.

In the places where the glow had yet to be devoured, images of dragons and elves leered down at him, their visages twisted into nightmarish proportions. At the fringes of the boiling pitch all reality began to warp and lose its shape.

Jeremy felt the dark's bitter cold touch as it dripped from the ceiling onto his vulnerable flesh. The black fluid bit into his skin like the frigid grasp of the reaper's soulless touch. It was cold beyond imagining, burning ice, searing his hand and festering there a numbness that slowly crept its way towards his heart. Frantically he rubbed the back of his hand on the bedspread, but the inky black spot would not go away; it was part of him now, and he could feel it calling to him.

Come, it said, let the shadow carry you into the endless sleep of oblivion, where there is no fear. Come, there is no escape. No refuge, nor refusal. Sleep and dream. Give in. There is no escape. No reason to be afraid. Close your eyes and dream.

The dark's soothing lullaby ate at his mind with the same numbness that devoured his flesh. It entranced him. It owned him.

He let his eyes slip closed.

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