I remember the stories that I had once forgotten. When we were little, our parents and relatives and neighbors and friends would tell us gruesome tales of witches and ghosts; goblins and haints. The stories usually had some moral to them to try and scare us into not doing things they didn’t want us to do. Don’t stay up all night and read comics by flashlight because the boogeyman will come out of your closet and eat you. Don’t wander in the woods alone or the trees will come alive and snatch you away. Don’t leave the refrigerator door open or a witch will cook you and eat you. Don’t drink directly out of the milk carton or… well you get the idea. When we were little these things scared us and haunted our days and nights.

Then we got older and we suspected everything and we knew better than everyone. We were teens and we knew everything and the last thing we wanted to hear was some old superstition. Growing out of childhood makes you forget the old fears and their sources. We didn’t have time to worry about ghosts or witches. Aside from the occasional dare to stare into a mirror and say “Bloody Mary” three times, we left those childish things behind.

Then we became adults and we don’t even remember the stories that we were told anymore. The world is a scary enough place without needing to tell our kids about monsters of fantasy. Nowadays you tell your kids not to play in the playground alone or a scary person may drag you off never to be seen again. Don’t chat with strangers online or they may track you down and kill you and your family. Don’t open e-mails from people you don’t know or a virus could wipe out years worth of data. These are the things parents fear now. These things were the things I feared, however idly that may have been… until now.

It seems the old monsters did exist and they never went away. Some have adapted to the changing times. Some have stuck to the old ways and maybe even others have resigned and faded into obscurity. But the thing slamming its body over and over into the door at my back… that one is very real. And I believe it when it speaks in its raspy growling voice and says that it can smell my fear. I believe it with all my heart. And if I survive this night, I will never forget another fairy tale or superstition for as long as I live. If I live through this, I will have no choice but to believe. I can hear the wood splintering behind me though and I see no other way out. This monster… this superstition that hunted me down for being in the wrong place at the wrong time… this is how it ends. And if what I saw the night before is any indication, it’s also only the beginning.

This entry was posted on Friday, July 6th, 2007 at 8:10 am and is filed under Stories.