Foreword by the Author:

    This tale did not get anything near the treatment it deserved, but I found myself forced to cut back on it since I had just plain lost the inspiration for it.  I finished it up the best I could, but it should have been longer and more interesting.  Maybe one day I'll revisit it and make it what it should be.

    To Randy and all you other Grammar Nazis out there:  Don't even bother commenting on it.  I used incorrect grammar and incomplete sentences on purpose, though it was incredibly hard to make myself do so.  It's supposed to start more complete, and degenerate into a form of stream-of-consciousness during the dream sequences and such.

---

Fear of the Dark
    Run.  I must run and hide, because it comes.  The man that is not there chases me, he knows where I am.  I haven't seen him, but he's there, I know it, and he knows that I'm here.  This is all just a giant game of cat-and-mouse, just him seeing how long I'll survive.  I'm behind my sofa now, hiding from the one who is both here and there.  I don't know where he is, but I do: he is in front of the sofa, looking away from where I am.  The man is there, but somehow he is also behind me, watching me with those eyes.

    Oh, those horrible red eyes, those eyes that stare right through you.  All I've seen of him are his eyes, but they tell me all I need to know.  They tell me that he hates me.  The man who is not there hates me, yet I amuse him, so he lets me live a little longer.   They also tell me that there is little that he does not hate.  I can see the depths of a soul of absolute hatred, the soul of a madman or a monster.  Yes, a monster, the man who is not there is a monster.  For if he is both there and not there, how can he be anything else than a monster?

    There's a hand on my shoulder, a cold hand, like a winter wind.  This hand that is on my shoulder tells me all I need to know.  The man -- no, the monster -- is behind me, and now I'm going to die since he's found me.  The game is over, I amuse him no more, so I'll die.  I slowly turn around, a cold chill running up my spine because I know what I'll see there.  Behind me, there are two small, glowing red eyes.  They blink every couple of seconds, but still they stare into me.  A flash of lightning illuminates the room, and I now see this monster for the first time.  He is a shadow in the shape of a man, his only clear feature are his glowing red eyes.  The rest of his body is like a black smoke: it's both there and not there.  I hear a scream, a primal scream.  It fills my apartment, a terror filled cry leaping from the throat of one who knows he is going to die...

* * *
    I wake up screaming.  All around me there's darkness.  I frantically look around, but see nothing, since there's no light in this place.  Wait, two lights in the distance.  Two red lights are there, about ten feet away from me.  They glow, blinking every once in a while, and then a memory of my dream fills me.  I recoil in terror at what I know is an unseen ghast staring at me and wanting to devour me.  My rational mind finally takes over, and I breathe deeply in and out a few times in order to concentrate on something other than my fears.

    I get up, walk across the room, and turn on the light switch.  It's the bedroom in my apartment.  Nothing is disturbed except the sheets and pillow on my bed: these are strewn about and mangled, like I had been tossing and turning in my sleep.  All is well, no monster.  After all, it was only a dream, an illusion created by my mind from the bits and pieces of that horror novel that I had finished reading before bed.

    "There is no such thing as ghosts.  Monsters don't exist," I told myself.

    Opening my bedroom door, I walk down the hallway to the kitchen.  Turning on the lights, I see that everything is in perfect order, just like I'd left it before going to bed.  I pour myself a glass of water before heading into the living room.  Nothing out of order here, either.  The carpet behind my sofa looks just like it does after I vacuum it.  Nothing's out of order, that monster had to have been a dream.  I head back to my room, and fall into the calm embrace of slumber.

* * *
    The next day flew by, events blurred into each other and the time at my job seemed like only a few minutes.  I went out to eat dinner and shoot some pool with my buddies after work, but before I knew it, I'm back at my apartment.  All was still and silent in the darkness of my home, but all was fixed by flipping on the light.  I grabbed a quick shower before heading off to bed.  A book lay on the floor near the door, the book that had caused that nightmare last night.  Smiling slightly at the memory, I kicked the book over to a corner, then headed to bed. 

    The cool feeling of the sheets against my skin was relaxing, I'm spiraling into the chaotic insanity that is dreaming.  At least tonight I won't have a nightmare like I did last night.  I relaxed on my soft bed, waiting for sleep to overtake me...but it's not coming.  Waiting to fall asleep...and waiting...and waiting...and ARGH!  Two hours and I'm still not asleep!  I'm laying here on my bed, trying to think of a way to fall asleep, but since I'm thinking of a way to fall asleep I won't fall asleep.  Just...chaos.  My mind is in chaos like a dream, but I'm wide awake.

    There's that blasted book in the corner.  My friend enjoyed it and loaned me a copy, so I read it even though I didn't know what it was about.  That book...was a rather disturbing story about a family who had been plagued by ghosts and demons for generations, there were accounts of one person from every generation who had to deal with the torment that these invisible beings brought them.  The book was interesting and well written, but I shouldn't have read it.  My imagination -- my accursed overactive imagination -- took the story in that book and ran with it.  That's how I ended up with that epic nightmare from the night before.

    My eyes feel odd, like pain but not.  Just...uncomfortable.  I opened them and looked around the room for a bit to stop focusing on feeling uncomfortable.  I see two red glowing dots on the far side of the room.  Two dots...two...dots.  THAT DREAM! No, no, no, no, no!  I don't want to remember that dream at all!  But...those two red dots are like the eyes of that monster I'd dreamed of last night.  Wait...no...

    Those two red dots are the eyes of that monster!  As I'm looking at the red glow, and I see the shadow-body around them.  It's a body blacker than the dark of night that engulfed me, the darkness of a monster.  The monster!  The monster's back and it's going to get me!  Those two horrible red eyes, they're looking into my soul.  Can't move a muscle, the monster's paralyzed me and now I'm going to die.  It's over, it's all over now!

    I'm sane again.  There is nothing but the glow of my alarm clock on the other side of the room.  There's no monster, I'm safe in my own apartment.  I start with the breathing exercises again, those always seem to calm me.

    'There is no monster.  It doesn't exist,' I repeated as a mantra until I truly believed it. 

    How is it that that blasted book has such a hold over me?  I read that stupid collection of stories, and suddenly my mind gets carried away and conjures beasts that dwell in the night for me to fear.  How embarrassing for someone rational like me to fear the dark because monsters will come and get me.  It's like I'm acting like some five year old kid.  How silly this is.  But...sleep is here now.  Sleep.  I dreamed a silly dream that night, a dream of a party at a bar where penguins, red devils, and butterflies shared a few brews, listened to a band, shot pool, and in general had a good time.

* * *
   Am I asleep? Am I awake?  I'm laying here on my bed, but I don't feel right...like I'm not really here or something.  There's fog on the edges of my eyes, can't see correctly, so is it a dream?  Just...here in the bed, but all is fine.  I'll get up in the morning, go to work, won't have to worry about demons or monsters.  Stupid, getting so worked up over a story.  It's not like it's real or anythi...

    Tapping.  Tapping on the window.  It comes, it goes.  It comes again, and it's tapping harder now.  It's the window across the room from the door.  Tapping....no, now it's scratching and scraping.  Like claws.  Just like the claws of lizards.  Scratching, scraping, tapping, something's coming.  Something's coming, and it's coming for me.  I know it! It's coming for me, just like the smoke man with the red eyes.  Red eyes?  I don't see any red eyes right now, but there is still...that...scratching!

    The tapping...stopped?  Why?  What's going on?  Wait!  If the scratching stopped...that means it's in the room with me now!  It got in through the window!  The lizard monster got in through the window and now it's coming after me.  Can't stay on the bed, have to roll under the bed where it won't see me.  I'm rolling...rolling off the bed.  Rolling under the bed, now safe.  I'm safe here, and the monster can't find me.

    Creaking.  Floorboards creaking.  The floorboards are creaking and I hear it.

    Moaning.  Something moaning.  I hear something moaning, but somehow it sounds more like a horrible growl than a moan.

    Creaking and moaning, something's coming, something's here.  Lizard monster, it has to be a lizard monster.  Otherwise, how would it scrape on the windows like it did?  How would it scratch, scape, and tap if it wasn't a lizard beast?  It must be green and scaly, like the Hunters I read about.  Hunters!  The hunters are coming for me!  I hear it, the scratching at the window, the growling in the room.  Something's coming, something's here.  I can't see anything, but I hear it, so it must be here.

    Something rubs against my skin, something cold and smooth.  Cold and smooth?  It's a claw, the Hunter's claw.  I don't know how it found me, but it did.  The scaled hunter with the long sharp claws found me!  Scratch, sharp, pain.  Something scratched me...blood!  There's blood on my hand, my blood.  The Hunter scratched me and made me bleed.  There must be blood on its claws too.  No, no, no!  It's found me, and now it'll kill me.  I'm dead, so dead.  So very dead.  Have to roll away, move to the side where it is not.  Have to roll away, or I'm dead.  Or I'm dead...

    I'm awake.

    What happened?  It feels like my head was spinning and swirling while filled with fog.  But it's clear now, and I can think now.  I'm lying on the carpeted floor by my bed, so I must have rolled off, maybe while I was dreaming.  Pain.  My leg is scratched, but the bleeding was small.  I'm...fine.  I remember something about a monster, but that must have been a dream.  Tapping on the window I hear.  Tapping...for some reason I feel afraid but I know not why.  I'm afraid?  The tapping must have caused my dream.  It was only a dream.  I must have hurt myself on a corner when I fell, that's what caused the scratch.  It was only a dream.

    'There are no monsters.  They don't exist.'

    No, there are no monsters.  I'm dreaming again.  It was only a dream.  Only...a dream.

* * *
    The next few days pass quickly.  The nightmares come and go, but I can survive just fine.  It's odd, though.  Life had become a dream and the dreams have become lifelike.  I almost don't know if I'm living in the dreams or dreaming of my life.  My mind and my rationality tells me that the world I think is the waking world is real, but somehow I'm beginning to doubt.  I enjoy my job, my friends, and my life, but it seems to go by too quickly.  It's like I'm in a waking dream all the time, a dream that is happy, yet passes too quickly.  Too quickly, because when I sleep the nightmares might come.  The nightmares...

    I sleep.

* * *
    I can't sleep.  I'm lying here in bed again, awake not fully, but awake still.  The bed feels good, soft sheets, nice weight against me from the blanket.  It's nice, but it feels nice for too long, and I'm starting to not feel anymore.  It's like I'm restless since I'm feeling fine for so long, as though not moving made me not want to feel fine.  I somehow want to feel something like pain but not like pain.  I want to feel uncomfortable for a little so that I know I'm feeling something.  So I turn and toss...and later I begin to feel to nice again.  So I turn again.  And it never ends.

    All is dark, so all is black.  The sheets are black, my hands are black, the ceiling is black.  No, wait, maybe all is not black but there is black all around everything else and I see that black instead of everything else.  Maybe, but I don't know.  It would be best to just lie here, close my eyes, and stop thinking.  To stop.

    My throat.  The next thing I'm aware of is something at my throat.  It pushes down on me, like something malevolent and inhuman.  Something like a beast...or a monster.  Monster, it must be a monster.  I know that monsters don't exist, my mind tells me that they don't exist, but they do!  They do!  I know because they come to me at night.  They can't be dreams, they're too real.  What I think is real must be a dream because it feels like a dream.  This is too real, so it must be real.  Yes, that's it.

    Pressure, weight.  Something at my throat, but I don't see anything there.  Something brushes against my throat.  It's not just weight now, but movement.  Fingers, unseen fingers at my throat pushing.  Pushing and pressing, they're choking.  Yes, the monster's going to choke me.  I still don't see a monster, but I feel it at my throat, so it must be there.  I don't see it, but it is there.  It is invisible.  Yes, it is invisible, and invisible monster.  Invisible monster?  Demon!  The monsters brought a demon to me to kill me.  I got away from the other monsters, so a demon came to kill me.

    Push off.  Trying to push off, but can't move.  Arms don't move, legs don't move.  Trapped I am.  Can't move, can't run, can't hide...can't live.  Demon has me now.  Trapped and I'm going to die.  Wait, roll!  Got away from Hunter rolling, maybe can roll away from Demon.  Roll, roll.  Fall.  Hit floor, pain.  Fingers still at throat, pushing.  Not as many fingers, but now they're not just at my throat, but everywhere.  Some on throat pushing to choke, some on legs, some on arms.  Can't move, can't roll.  Trapped again.  Demon has me, can kill me.  Going to die.  Yes, going to die.

    Look up, and there is the red eyes again.  They're gone, but they're back.  Blinking.  Blinking red eyes, they're the blinking red eyes of the Smoke Man!  He's come to get me.  Demon came to get me.  The demon I don't see, but the smoke man I can barely see.  A body that is there that isn't there with two red eyes, Smoke Man.  Still fingers at throat choking.  Still going to die.  Demon kill me, Smoke Man eat me.

    Tapping....

    Tapping on the window.  Tapping?  Tapping, scratching, scraping at the window.  Scraping, scratching, tapping.  Claws.  Lizard's claws.  Hunter's claws.  Hunter's come to get me too.  I'm dead, so dead.  Try to roll, but feel claw at throat too.  Demon choking, Hunter scratching, Smoke Man waiting to eat.  The monsters are all here tonight, I'm going to die.  Can get away from Hunter, from Smoke Man, not from Demon.  Going to die I am.  Dead.  Dying.  Will die.  Am dead.  Don't know, can't think.  Just fear.  Fear, but can't see.  Can't see, so fear.  Fear of Smoke Man, Hunter, Demon.  Fear.  Dying, death...

    ...

* * *
    Yellow tape barricades the entrance to the second story apartment.  Words are written across the tape, repeating themselves at regular intervals.  The door hangs open, and several uniformed officers are inside.  They had been called here after the resident had not been seen for a few days.  The door was locked, so they broke it down.  Now, the broken door hung loosely from it's hinges, and the yellow police tape barricaded the entrance in its stead.

    One uniformed officer milled around the living room and the kitchen, looking for anything out of place or amiss.  All the others, however, were in the bedroom, surveying the fate of the inhabitant of this apartment.  They stood around the bed somewhat, lifting fingerprints, putting samples into plastic bags for to preserve them.  One man walked around the room with his camera.  An occasional flash filled the room, perhaps blinding one of the officers and informing all that another picture had been taken.

    What captivated the interest of all was not the messy state of this room, nor was it the pillows that seemed to have been thrown around in the night.  No, it was not these things, but the apartment's denizen.  A body with torn and bloodied sheets wrapped around it lay at the foot of the bed, between the bed and the wall with the door on it.  Blood was splattered everywhere, mostly on the places immediately around the body.  The face was red and scratched beyond recognition.  The mouth was crushed inward, and most of the teeth knocked out.  Where eyeballs should have been, there were merely empty sockets.  The neck had long red marks on it and was pushed inward, as though the victim had been throttled.  The rest of the body was in no better condition.  Flesh hung loosely from the body, bones were exposed as were muscles and organs.

    The rest of the apartment was pristine compared to the blood and gore of the bedroom.  None of the windows had been forced, nor had the door.  There were no fingerprints anywhere, and nothing seemed to be out of place in a manner like a burglar had come through.  Whatever came here got in and out without leaving any evidence besides the body.  From the wounds, the body looked like it had been torn apart by an animal.  Whatever had happened here had been done by something with the intelligence of a human and the ferocity and rage of an animal.  Whatever had happened here was the work of a monster.