At Night
Jon Lee
David is a child holding back an internal
intensity that most adults never deal with.
He is afraid of closing his eyes, he is afraid of going to sleep. Something is there; something comes during
the night and tortures him. His willpower
fights back, he will do anything to keep from drifting off at night--anything
necessary.
#
David sits on the edge of his bed. Eight years old is an awkward age, never exactly
sure how far to reach or step. Stars
twinkle outside the simple storm window. A giant-sized digital clock gives everything
in the room a glowing, green texture; the time is
The room is dark because David is trying to
break a habit, sleeping with the lights on--all three of them. Sweat drips from David’s brow as he sits in
silence. The entire house is silent; his
room is perfectly still, only his thoughts stimulate his mind.
The clock flashes, 12:45. David stands up. He wants to think that the whole thing
is silly, but he knows better. He can
feel the reality in his bones, something is happening.
Walking across the room, David suddenly feels
exposed; something is behind him, or, could be behind him. With childlike agility, his back instantly
glues to the wall beside the door. He
looks around in a paranoid panic; everything is silent and still. Fighting to turn his head away from the room,
he looks down the pitch-black hall to the kitchen, nothing moves.
The hallway is short. The door to David’s room is at one end. In the middle of the hall is a single door to
the bathroom. The other end opens to the
main section of the house.
David inches along, turning the corner, back
to the wall. The bathroom door is
ahead. The second he is close enough; a
short arm whips in and turns the light on.
The child follows, melting around the corner.
After a quick, frantic survey of the tiny
room, David searches a shelf and picks up a small emergency flashlight. Armed against the darkness, he exits the
bathroom and turns on the hall light. The
boy pushes his way into the living room, the flashlight beam cycles between
every dark corner.
Steadily moving, David is quickly in the
kitchen rifling through the silverware drawer.
He pulls a big butcher’s hatchet from the treasure-trove filled with
sharp utensils. Huge for his size, the
child hooks his arm around and presses the flat surface of metal against his
back--a safe position.
With his other hand, David switches off the
flashlight, and slips it on the kitchen table’s carousal. The instant the light in the kitchen drops a
danger alarm explodes inside the child’s mind--something may be there in the
darkness. He breaks across the open
floor, not running, just accelerated tiptoe walking.
In seconds David streaks back into his room,
a light switch flips, and another. In the
darkness, he stands in the corner of the room holding the chef weapon with both
hands--a small comfort, simple security.
The clock ticks again,
For hours, David stands motionless in the
corner, but the stamina of a child’s body finally takes over. He gives in to fatigue and slides under the
covers. The butcher’s blade is instantly
accessible under his pillow.
In the silent darkness, David’s thoughts circle;
then a flash of light fills the room for an instant. Something happened, something… the clock says
The light flips on; David’s mother stands in
the doorway.
“You’re already awake? Well, get ready for
school.”
At that critical moment, David started to
confess.
“I… I’ll be ready in a minute.”
#
That morning the words were there, he just
could not find the strength to speak them. David would never find the willpower to tell
his mother, or anyone else, about the night terrors. Even as an adult in his late twenties, the
boy keeps his secret. The one thing David
regrets about his childhood, is not confessing the dark secret at that
one critical moment.