I think someone once said, “I’m not afraid of the dark, just what’s in it”. I have no idea who. I think someone did, though. Anyway, I suppose that’s a very accurate way of looking at things.
I’ve been afraid of the dark for a long time. I’ve been afraid of going out into it and running into a murderer or bandit. Of stepping on a large, unseen spider with bare feet. Of severely stubbing my little, webbed footsies on furniture, which I already do quite often in daylight. Due to me being, I’m ashamed to say, a milkaholic, I’ve never broken any bones, but it could still happen. What if I hear a murderer, start running, step on a large spider, start running faster, and crash into the couch and break my whole darn foot off? Don’t say that’s never happened before. In all the thousands of years people, murderers, spiders, and furniture have been simultaneously in existence, you think that has never happened? To quote Jerry Seinfeld, “Not bloody likely”. (At least, I think he said that. Well, someone said it.)
In fact, in almost every one of the many places I’ve lived, I’ve been terrorized by the dark. I mean, more accurately, by the things that live in the dark. I hate going to the bathroom at night. Sometimes, I just sprint the three feet to the bathroom, then sprint back (after I completed my reason for going there in the first place, of course), so that if any murderers are lurking nearby, they won’t be able to catch me, even though this puts me at risk of breaking bones and possibly dying.
There are also the creepy things that haunt the darkness. I’ve seen/heard them. As a duckling, I was in the basement with the lights off, and I thought I saw the reflection of something in the TV screen (it wasn’t on a TV show; the TV was off), and I fled the scene of my potential murder. Yes, I know it was just the wild imagination of a duckling, but the horror was real. What also were real were the spiders that roamed my bedroom at night. I’d look up, and they’d be crawling around the wall nearest me and along the ceiling. These decent-sized, pasty, almost transparent ones. How I hated them.
Then, the things I heard at night. That one time, the goblin. Yes, the goblin! No, that was a dream. But, it inspired my goblin dream! I heard a scratching on the walls, moving down the hallway. I was thoroughly disturbed by this sound, which caused me to dream about a goblin getting loose in my house. Also, my first night in one house, I heard this cat crying, and what was so creepy about it was the fact that it seemed to keep repeating, as if it was a tape recording. I thought someone was out there with this recording, trying to lure me outside where I would surely be beaten senseless with a frying pan and made into a very comfortable duck down pillow. Turned out it was my own cat, but it really sounded like it was repeating.
I also hate space. Also very dark. I hate things that just go on forever. I once was at this art museum, and they had this dark room with mirrors, lit only by small, dim lights hanging from the ceiling. For whatever reason, I went in, and it was like being out in space (without the freezing temperatures, the floating, the lack of oxygen, or the Klingons to worry about). It looked like it went on forever and ever, and I got lost and had trouble getting out. It freaked me out for the longest time. It chilled me to my soul.
So that’s my thoughts on the dark. It’s quite horrible, except I couldn’t sleep a wink without it. But, like I said, there’s nothing wrong with the dark. I just don’t like that the things in it keep freaking me out.
The Dark Duck