Why do we fear the dark? Now don't say you don't. Nobody feels comfortable in a dark room, but why we don't know. Or at least not entirely. Do we feel unprotected in the void? Maybe we associate it with pain. Maybe we know something haunts it. Maybe, just maybe, someone lives in the darkness. But why in the dark? And more importantly, what are we scared of? By something so fearsome your brain chooses to forget it, perhaps? Maybe of something you still see in the dark.

I was just a plain someone, no one at all. I worked at a school as a janitor. The payment wasn't great, but enough to let me live my life. I dwelled in a dusty apartment with few lights which in turn caused the rooms to be poorly lit. I was used to the dark and didn't care about it anymore for a while. Yet somewhere in September that changed. Every now and then the lights were flickering or broke down to leave me in a room covered in thick blackness. When they turned on again I was disoriented. I'd be walking around when shadows filled my chamber and I oftentimes bumped into the furniture. I was sure I knew were the couch and tables stood, what their sizes were and how they were arranged, yet they always seemed to move that one little bit in the dark.

I was living alone so back then I talked to myself a bit, I usually asked questions to get my thoughts straight, but sometimes, not often but just enough to make it noticeable, I would find my answers written on a board. White chalk then formed letters in a fashion I would have written them, like I had put them on there and forgotten about it the moment I turned my back on it.

Weeks on end I did not pay attention to it, I lived my life, be it in peril of my apparent memory issues. My paranoia was also getting worse which in turn caused me to work less. Nothing changed in these weeks whilst objects moved around more and more, eventually never standing in the same place for more than a day. Still only in darkness it occurred. As soon as possible I called a technician but to no avail. Being told the lights should be working fine I grew that little bit more tense. The lights were certainly not fine.

After this I began dreaming bad. Dreams about something moving stuff around but never visible. I recognized it but never remembered its face. I wanted to ignore it so bad that I began believing it wasn't actually the same face, thus neglecting my nightmares. Then I started hearing voices as well. Little giggles just behind my ear. Cold breaths touching my neck. But nothing was ever behind me. Growing tired of adjusting myself to the rearrangements I moved everything back to where I wanted it to be, and I made damn sure I remembered where everything stood. Rather foolishly I hoped that to be the end.

The movements became more aggressive, the dreams more violent and the sounds more audible. I often ended the day with a monster I saw in the corner of my eye, one which disappeared from the moment I turned my gaze to it. This filled me with dread but never would I admit to be going mad. Not then anyways.

After the dreams came something far worse. Whenever darkness was surrounding me it seemed hours passed. I would have new bruises and be exhausted to the point I wanted to lie down but never dared on account of the dreams. Cuts gave away that I was not right in the mind anymore. My only explanation was that I just blacked out constantly. I lost any memory of the dark. I lived in the light out of fear of the amnesia. I still remembered a monster, but just not clearly. All I could recall were pieces, like a drawing torn apart into shreds. And only one thing could I make out of the mess. It was smiling.

I started putting down stripes whenever I saw the beast. I even wanted to take pictures of the horror. Often I found myself in my chair with many new photos but never a face. Or so I thought. I once discovered that I never actually recalled the photos I'd taken. Even if there was never anything interesting on them I would still have to memorize them in some way, just enough to see what was tormenting me. I sat down in my chair again and took a good look at the photos. I finally saw it.

I looked at the figure. I recognized it vaguely, like something you'd remember from a dream. No name or place, no date nor any reminder of it, like a ghost. Whenever I looked away it was the same feeling you get when you walk into a room but can't remember why. Only for that second I knew, as when I looked away it was erased from my memory. Every time I looked at the picture it came back, but faded away the moment something else drew my attention. It was impossible to remember the beast in the dark. By this time I remembered no more than 4 hours of a whole day. Whenever I was surrounded by gloominess the hours were gone and my wounds were bleeding heavily. I didn't even have the time to stitch them until I blacked out again. I couldn't escape the torment. I would be the only one to know of this horror. Something there but not quite. Something that hurts you when you are most vulnerable. Something that strikes when you are alone.

Our fear of the night stems from a creature that stalks it. You never remember it completely nor do you forget it forever. I don't know why it hurts us or why I remember it now, I don't know where it came from or where it will go, but I do now know why the darkness is our biggest fear.