When I was young, I would sleep with a nightlight. By young I mean like 12 but to each our own, you know. That nightlight did wonders. It wasn’t the brightest, but it was so beautiful. But like all good things do, it came to an end. Years on end, with that nightlight scintillating tirelessly while protecting me from the baleful dark mist that engulfs my room and surrounds my bed, stopping only at the brink of the thin line that the nightlight emits. Like a forcefield made of luminescent walls. Going to sleep that night was difficult. Watching as my dad closed the door to the hallway as I watched with widened eyes and shaky breath. The darkness slowly creeped over, as if it was taunting me, knowing there was nothing I could do but watch as it slowly seeped over toward me. Finally, it found itself at the tip of my bed but going further. Further than ever before. Until finally it swallowed me and my bed while leaving me with nothing but melancholy thoughts. As the minutes went by, I began hearing things shuffle and click, thud and whisper. I looked left, right, up and down, and yet nothing. Minutes turned to hours, hours felt like days, I couldn’t tell if my eyes were open or closed, it was torture! Pure torture! Feelings of animosity filled my mind while my eyes puffed up and my face went red. Feelings of fear and sadness had left. Anger clouded my vision more than the dark that engulfed me. I was angry, no, furious at the nightlight for leaving me in that inimical mist. Even if it was an object, something that can’t speak or move, an inanimate object, I was still mad. I had been so lost in my own mind; I hardly noticed the sun peaking over our hill like a half open jaundice eye. Finally, the night was over. Finally, the light was back. Finally, I found peace.
