This one is about a boy who is trying to survive the night.

All the boy could hear was the buzzing that comes with absolute silence. All he could see was the intense darkness above him.


The sun wasn’t going to come up any time soon, and the darkness wasn’t going to let go without a fight.


The boy knew that his bedroom ceiling was up there, somewhere; the glow-in-the-dark stars that were stuck up there had lost their luminescence hours ago, they weren’t very good. But still, he couldn’t help but wonder if there was something up there. He noticed that he couldn’t even see his own form under the covers, yet the darkness moved, and he could certainly see that. He felt a slight numbness at this thought. Even though this scared him, he couldn't close his eyes. The dark behind his lids was far vaster.


So he continued to stare, hoping, almost desperately, that some unknown light will show him that there was nothing to be afraid of.


But none appeared.


The boy shuffled about under his blanket, trying to seal the outside off from his wool one-man fort. Nothing could reach him here. All that was exposed to the danger that lurked somewhere above him were his eyes and forehead, so that he could be prepared for what terror would approach.
The boy’s eyes darted from one corner of the room to the other, in search for what he knew to be a terror he couldn't even imagine. Even time he blinked, he caught a glimpse of what it might look like.


Some of his visions had fangs, others did not. Sometimes he saw bony legs sprouting from a barrel-like chest that moved slowly closer. Other times it was simply a shadow, but with each blink, these forms always drew nearer. He tried hiding his head, but not knowing for sure terrified him even more. Soon he was hearing things. Things that his mother had told him not to worry about, “It’s just the boiler, keeping us warm,” she said earlier that evening, at dinner.


The boy thought about his mother, how she had comforted him before bed, stroking his chest and running her fingers through his hair. This calmed him enough so he could fall asleep. But the safety of dreams was short-lived; something had woken him hours later to a dark room. Even the light under the door was out.


Now he heard gurgling coming from the basement, he tried reminding himself of his mother’s words, “It’s just the boiler, keeping me warm,” he murmured.Ø