text: Sometimes when I can’t sleep I find myself turning on the light, to burn through every shadow in every crevice. However, tonight I decided I should stay under my covers for protection. Something just knocked on my door--it’s not uncommon though. I’m always convinced it’s real, but nobody ever ends up knocking again. My least favorite time of the year is the middle of October. When the rain starts, the leaves fall, the shadows thrive, and haunted decorations are abundant. Have you ever seen the silhouette of a claw fenced by dim moonlight at the other end of your room? Only to find that when you trace it back to the source, it’s just a shredded leaf chained to the window by hydrogen bonds. October is dreadful, mainly because October is when my insomnia returns. It becomes difficult determining what time it is, and even worse, reality from nightmare. Sometimes I am startled awake in a nightmare, convinced it’s reality. Then I find myself again startled awake by the clash of wind-blown leaves on my window. A few minutes later I hear it again, the most terrifying three knocks I’ve ever heard--knock, knock, knock. It has to be real. I should just wait for it to go--KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK--away. Between me and the shadows that surround me, the shimmer of moonlight coming through the dampened window, the chaotic air--CRASH--and the famished anxiety. The anxiety slices through my blanket, through my skull, and releases a flurry of images in my head; IT’S A MAN, a man that will kill for the sake of pleasure, for the feeling of a knife puncturing the skin, for the sweet crack of a skull, for the cascade of hot blood pouring from every wound. My imagination shifts, perhaps a werewolf? The weight of each footstep might as well be one, each one gets louder--thump, creak, **thump, creak, THUMP, CREAK**. I hear the abrasion of its claws dragging along the stucko layered walls in my hallway. But when it gets to my door, all sounds halt. An echoing silence fell about my room. After a short while the anxiety has left and I can finally get some fresh air. I ease off the cover and discover everything to be normal. The claw still sits, the rain pitter patters, and the shadows are still dragging themselves through the light. A wave of relief briefly falls over me, only I don’t recall leaving a crack in my door. I didn’t leave a crack in my door. I open my pupils and grasp every photon from every shadow that resides in my room. I feel a faint tug of my quilts and instantly slip back into my imagination, the Boogie Man? The Grim Reaper? A Werewolf? I try to heave my sheets back over me, but there’s resistance on the other end--my eyelids stapled shut. The blanket gets heavier and harder to keep hold. It’s stronger than me. My hands slip and I can hear a tear echoing from the other ends of the sheets. The weight of something presses on my bed by my feet, the mattress begins to sink towards them. It’s starting to crawl up my bed, crawl over me. Every crawl closer creates a new valley next to me, starting from down at my feet, to my knees, to my hips, torso, face. It hovers over my body. My senses heighten and I can feel the warmth of it engulfing me. The breath of it is heavy and offbeat, maniacal. A drop of saliva drags down my face. I force myself to open my eyes, there’s no other way to stay sane. I expose my eyes and everything is still black--the image is still being focused. Eyes start to creep into the picture, but everything else is still being pieced together. Still trying to gather as much light as it can. I start to see the outline of its head; then its teeth, the creeping benevolent shining smile--the teeth of a man. His face edges closer to mine, until he’s less than an inch from mine. He pauses and stares through me--as if to avoid a sense of pain. In the split seconds that I tried to piece his face together, I didn’t notice him scuttle his hands closer. They are on my neck with pressure. The squeeze comes quickly and suddenly as a boa constrictor would strangle its prey. It’s impossible to escape, no matter how much I struggle. The smile just gets brighter. His face lights up, but the picture of his face reverses. Shadows smother his smile, then his skin, then the outline of his skull, leaving only his eyes. I wake up, only to find myself still intact. In a cold sweat I analyze my body; nothing but unscathed flesh. My body feels like there have been no wounds, cuts, stabs, burns, tears, rips, or punctures of any sort on it. It’s all the same; everything in my rooms back to normal, serene. I look at the clock and it see that little time has passed--although it’s difficult to tell on these rainy days. It’s only 1:42 A.M. I must’ve fallen asleep about an hour ago. I sit up on the side of my bed, listen to the crackle of rain calming down outside, and see the shadows still dancing about; there is no leaf greeting me anymore, I am home. I stand up to go turn the light on, rub my eyes, stretch, and start walking towards the switch. I freeze, staring to the corner of the room. My heart starts racing again, almost as if I were in another dream. Next to the light switch something is out of place. Right next to my door stands a sliver of light peaking its head through the opened crack. I don’t recall leaving my door open.