The light didn’t just go out; it surrendered. Ten-year-old Leo sat frozen in the center of his bed, the duvet pulled up to his nose like a soft, useless shield. To everyone else, the room was empty, but Leo knew better. The dark wasn't just an absence of light—it was a hungry, living thing that waited for the sun to drop. The Grasping Trees
His bedroom door creaked open an inch. A sliver of the hallway’s absolute blackness spilled in, smelling of cold stone and old dust. He waited for his mother’s footsteps, for the reassuring click of her heels, but there was only the silence—a heavy, suffocating silence that felt like a hand over his mouth. Fear(s) of the Dark image
Leo took a deep breath, squeezed his eyes shut, and realized that in the dark, you don't just see the monsters—you become the only thing worth hunting. The light didn’t just go out; it surrendered
In the far corner of the room, near the closet he’d forgotten to shut completely, the shadows were thicker. They didn't move with the rhythm of the wind. Instead, they pulsed. Leo focused on a single point where the darkness seemed to solidify into a shape—a tall, featureless figure that stood perfectly still. The dark wasn't just an absence of light—it