Fear
I thought that when I was older all the things that scared me would go away, but they didn’t. I stood in the hallway, the shadows of midnight creeping around me and seeping into dark corners. I squeezed my stuffed bear tightly as a draft of cool air drifted through the vents, shifting my bedridden curls and sending chill down my spine. The floorboards creaked with age as I gingerly stepped closer to the bedroom doors. Doors that lead to my Aunt Margrit’s bedchamber. Doors that I could reach but not quite touch. A crash resounded through the empty halls, echoing off the walls and freezing my heart. I ran back to my chambers stumbling in the dark, tripping over the hem of the far to big nightgown I had borrowed. Bursting through the door I leaped onto my bed, quickly submerging myself into the safety of the quilts and sheets. The night had won again, and for then I had to face it alone. -Whimsical Writer