Trembling With Fear 12/26/21

Silence from the Dark by Reed Martin Miller

Aaron sat on the end of his couch, staring down the hall towards the bathroom with eyes wide and bulging in terror, but they did not see anything in the darkness that stared back at him. Even so, he knew that the thing was there, that it was always there just beyond the glow of the light, whatever the source of the light might be.

It had tormented him for decades, this nameless evil that watched him from the shadows, showing itself when the light faded, but even then only in the haziest of outlines. Never enough that Aaron could see it fully, or even know for certain that it was truly there or a phantom of his mind. This terror caused him to keep night lights plugged into every outlet of his home, and never to be found without a pocket light just in case the power died.

As a child he’d never had this fear, had never given the night or the dark any mind until college, when one night he’d stumbled down the hall from his room to visit the community restroom, his mind addled by beer and gin, his body barely able to stand from the same. 

It had been a night of firsts; his first drink, his first frat party and dose of debauchery. That night he’d lost his virginity to a beautiful young woman who had smiled innocently as they walked into the bedroom at the top of the stairs, and was just as nervous as he himself as they undressed each other awkwardly.

He was still smiling at the memory when he left his room.

It was the duty of the resident advisor to turn off the hall lights every evening, or in truth most of them. There was a single fluorescent fixture in the center of the hall that was not connected to a switch and was supposed to burn all day and all night for safety, and to help guide the way to the bathroom.

Aaron made it to the edge of that pool of light in the darkness when he first saw the outline of the thing squatting just on the other side. It was long-limbed, and sat motionless in the dimness, staring intensely and balefully at the young man who fell backwards to the floor in silent fear, his drunkenness washed away on a wave of adrenaline so large  he didn’t even note the warm wetness that washed down the front of his pants. Before he could utter a whimper, the thing stepped backwards slowly and out of sight. The damage had been done, the fear gripped his soul, and his quivering mutters grew into an ear-splitting cry that woke half the hallway, but no one looked out or stirred.

He never told a soul about his encounter, but his roommate complained when Aaron refused to turn off his desk lamp at night, and eventually moved out and told anyone who would listen that Aaron was afraid of the dark.

His fear kept him from taking classes in the evening, which turned his four year plan to graduate into a five year reality of further ridicule that slowly changed the formerly gregarious young man into a jaded, and lonely shut-in.

Rather than salving his wounded pride and psyche, the years only added to his misery, as each night he stared down the hallways of his apartments and rental homes at the edge of the darkness where sat the outline of the hateful creature waited, watching in silence never able to forget that he was not alone.

“What do you want?” He would whisper into the night, hoping the thing would answer, terrified that it would answer, but if it showed any reaction at all it was in a slight tilting of its head, or maybe a shaking of its body in what could have been silent laughter.

It went on in this vein every night until he sat with a newly purchased and freshly loaded pistol, staring down the hall not in fear, but in resignation blended with anger. He’d been shocked to look at the calendar that morning and realize that it was his birthday, his eightieth trip around the sun.

“I’m about to die you son of a bitch, and it won’t be your hand that does the deed.” His brown eyes, weakened by age, sparkled with mirth as he thumbed back the hammer and his lips curled up in a smile that had not graced his face in many. many years. “Anything to say before I eat this bullet, asshole?”

He expected nothing, but he heard a very dry chuckle from the end of the hall that grew louder as a dusty-grey creature stepped into the faint light, came to a shuffling halt and squatted on thick, furry haunches at the end of the cheap, thread-bare sofa.

There was a dark glee in the creature’ coal black eyes as it looked at Aaron. Goose-bumps ran up and down Aaron’ entire arthritis ridden body as he watched the thing’ wide, leathery lips split into a broad, hateful grin, and for the first time in the sixty years that they had known one-another, Aaron heard the thing’ voice. It was low, and sounded much like a rasp scraping across iron, but it was clear and eloquent even so.

“Finally found your balls then, old man?”

Aaron laid his hands in his lap and gave the thing a level look, studying his long-time tormentor, drinking in the details that confronted him. The creature had eyes as wide as saucers, and short, wiry hair that covered its body from the feet that were too large to the ears that were too small. It would have looked comical but for the jagged teeth and wicked claws at the tips of fingers and toes.

“I guess you could say that.” Aaron finally said, his voice as level as his gaze. “I can’t believe it myself that it took me so long to come to this. You’re not as scary as I thought you would be.”

The thing chuckled, and there was no humor in it. “It’s so much better when you people don’t see me. Your imagination makes me so much more than I am. It makes you so much tastier!”

“So that’s what I was to you? A snack?”

“A snack?” The creature asked in his rasp of a voice, an abomination of vocalization that grated painfully on Aaron’ ears. “You sell yourself short, old man. You were a feast! I knew you would be when first we met, but I never thought you’d feed me your fear for sixty years.”

Aaron felt his cheeks color with embarrassment for a few heartbeats and then with anger. “What do you mean by that?”

“As soon as you laid your eyes on me you fell over pissing your pants, but then you went quiet. You never told a single soul about me, too afraid of what people would think to tell them anything at all. From you there was fear, and embarrassment, loneliness and shame and a whole spectrum of emotion! You’ve made me fat just on your shame, old man!”

There was a malignant light in the thing’s eyes that sent a fresh shiver up Aaron’s spine, but he schooled his face to hide the fear until he saw the thing’s mouth open wider in a knowing grin. “I guess you can tell when I’m afraid if you’ve been eating off of me.”

“I still find it amusing though, old man. Go ahead and try to hide it from me.”

“What happens next? Are you going to finally kill me?”

A rich laugh rumbled up from the things broad, shallow chest and for a moment in time Aaron thought that the creature would fall over onto its back and roll like a dog, but it regained its balance after a few long moments and spoke, “That is priceless, old man! You’re terrified, but hopeful! Brimming with anticipation and uncertainty! Oh but humans are truly a marvel of emotional twists and turns!”

Aaron’ lips tightened but the thing kept talking before he could pose his objection.

“You’re going to ask me a question? And enlighten me to absolute truth?”

“Truth can be ever so much crueler than even the greatest lie.” The self-proclaimed demon said with a sneer followed by a small laugh that was too sinister and deep to be called a chuckle, its eyes all but glowing as he stared at Aaron, drinking in the emotions that wriggled and snaked through the old man’ breast.

Aaron stared at the floor in thought and squeezed the grips of the pistol in his hands until he was able to steel himself and raise his eyes to look at the sneering, arrogant thing at the end of his sofa. “Ask your question, demon.”

“Why would I kill you when I’ve already stolen your entire life?”

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