Crouched in a dark corner, awaiting my doom, I listen as the slow, unquestionable footsteps get closer. This creature, an amalgam of my fears, is inhuman and possessed by Satan. I feel death, like an over-eager racehorse, galloping toward me with determined eyes and a frenzied hunger for victory. I try to meld into the wall, but my blood has turned cold and I can't move. I can see in my mind the three-pronged spike, ready to pierce me and the merciless hand holding it. The red eyes glimmer in the surrounding black empty space. I can hear the Darth Vader-like breathing and the snarl of anger as it searches for me in the darkness. I crawl along the floor, avoiding the squeaky boards. I sense the creature's presence as I claustrophobically claw my way along the floor. I am being tortured, like a mouse being batted around the floor by a cat. It is laughing at my misery and basking in its conquest and victory. I am just another victim, doomed to eternal flames and anguish in Hell.
Finally, the unbearable waiting is over and the lights flicker on. I can't see, blinded by the intensity of the light and petrified to be face-to-face with the thing. Instead of fangs piercing my vulnerable neck, all I hear is a young voice yelling, "I found him! He's in the closet!" As I adjust my eyes to the light, I again become a playful, carefree boy and the hide and seek game continues. n
This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.