Lying there in the dark. Shadows behind the ajar door threatening to spill over, reach out and taint you with their cold gripping tentacles.
Moving and changing shape vigourously like the rustling of trees in the wind. Deep breaths. Whispered mantra of don't let it in. Childlike imagination has not departed. How pathetic, it isn't real, projecting emotions into surroudings.
Things will stay the same nothing will harm. Yet the shadows still taunt ot of the corner of the eye. Things that aren't there but are they?
Hopelesness threatening every fiber of being. Unknowing those tentacles have reached the heart leaving only heavy emptiness. Swiftly the light switch is flicked, surroudings have changed but the darkness still remains.