was always afraid of the dark, ever since I was little. I never knew why though. Maybe it was the feeling of not knowing what could be in it, or maybe my imagination made me see things in the dark. I don’t know. I am still afraid even today. We shouldn’t fear the dark though, for some the dark is our friend. We shouldn’t fear the dark, we should fear the things that call the dark their home. The things that go bump in the night or flood our nightmares and make us scream. Not only those in our dreams or what we cannot see, but the things that hide in plain sight. Waiting, watching, stalking. Waiting for their unsuspecting victim to step into the darkness. Waiting to strike fear and death into the hearts of many. Their lifeless eyes and cold bodies never satisfied by the spilling of fresh blood. Their insatiable lust only growing. As this lust grows, so does the dead feeling inside. Colder and colder they grow, less and less fond of the lust that consumes them to spill blood. Through the dark they creep and hide. Stalking their victim, feeling hope that this may be the last. The hope that this last pool of blood will fill their lust and dead insides. Rotting away as they slowly kill and kill again. The sentience of these entities is somewhat macabre and ominous. They do not think, they do not feel, they only do what they hope will help. The hope tells them that the pain will go away or that they will feel good, if they only kill. Only just to let some blood splatter to the cold ground and souls seep out of the wounds. Grab the souls, consume them, the hope says, but yet the entities cannot. For even they, in death, cannot consume or touch a soul. They feel the air, holding for just a taste of a small soul. The fresh blood trickles from their claws or whatever weapon they hold in there mangled hands.
Why am I telling you this though? Why should you care? I mean, after all, these entities aren’t real are they? But how would we know? We’ve never seen them, in the dark……….
Credit To – Sam Blevins