The stairs, long and steep, leading to the ground floor. She never liked them. In this kind of houses, old and literary “used”, the stairs are always slippery. You always hear or read about accidents occuri8ng on this kind of steps. Sometimes even fatal accidents involving children or because of them. Perfectly fit and young man wakes up in middle of the night, still in a half-sleepy mode goes down to the bathroom, slips… Or a young mother, full of life and energy, steps on a “Burago” toy car and stumbles face down this kind of stairs…
Though, all those thoughts won’t do any good, so, cautiously, she climbs down the stairs into a gloomy kitchen. So deserted, so lonely with dim light of the moon barely scraping through the frosted window. She thought about waking him up. At least she wouldn’t feel so uneasy, but it would’ve been lunatic to wake him up at 3:03 a.m. just because she was scared to pee on her own. Without even turning the lights on she continued through the kitchen to the white bathroom door, which stood ajar and still. She kept her footsteps slow and paced despite her heart pacing at speed of cheetah closing on her prey. She reached for the door knob and swung the door wide open. More darkness – full and solid. She reached for the light chord bearing a weird feeling of being watched. Through the moments it took the light to eventually chase away the pesky darkness; she almost convinced herself that she would see the creature right in front of her staring numbly at her… the bathroom was empty. The fluorescent daylight bulb chased all the phantoms away sterilizing the bathroom with irritably bright light. She closed the door behind her and stared at her own reflection. All those recent nightmares started to show. The black beneath her swollen eyes grew more and more visible. She opened the tap of cold water. Waited until it became really cold, then splashed it at her face. She knew it couldn’t go any longer. She had to relax and think positive thoughts; otherwise those nightmares will never leave her. When did they start? 3 months? 4? In fact, it all started when she moved into the house.
- Now, stop it! You are being paranoid! It is all in your head and the house has nothing to do with it.
She knew that it was the truth, but couldn’t help herself and stop thinking the dark thoughts. She left the water running, while sitting on the toilet. Now she started to regret it, because through the noise of running water she imagined other noises coming from the deserted kitchen. She knew it was a part of her inflamed imagination playing tricks on her, but once again she got goose bumps. She flushed the water, washed her hands and splashed some more water at her face. Just before opening the door, she held her breath listening to the silence of the house and only after about a minute when her lungs started to burn begging for some air she dared to draw a breath and open the door turning off the bathroom lights. The darkness embraced her with claustrophobic tightness of the coffin paralyzing her with childhood fears of unseen monsters creeping out of the closets and from under the bed. She couldn’t force herself to move until her eyes, which grew accustomed to the darkness, helped her to make out the deserted kitchen. She wanted to run, but logic and dignity made her keep the usual pace.
On her ascend; just when she was within the reaching distance of her bedroom, she heard it once again. A gentle scrapping and squeaking of the tiles. As if some unseen being was slowly making its way through the moonlit kitchen. Telling the logic to go screw itself, she flew up the last steps and straight into the bedroom shutting the door behind. Drawing the deep breaths she leaned against the smooth wooden surface of the door waiting and listening. Nothing. The whole house was asleep. The only sound present was her thunderous heartbeat and his calm and even breathing. She waited for few more minutes before surrendering to the warmth of her bed. Once again she thought about waking him up, but she immediately chased the thought away, it would’ve been too selfish a thing to do. So, she closed her eyes trying thinking of seashore, sand and sunshine. The gentle but uneasy slumber eventually took over her.
The door did not creek. It swung open just enough for a shadow to slip into the room f peaceful slumber. Two little hearts, two chests moving up and down in the instinctive rhythm encoded in their DNA. The shadow didn’t make any sounds, now was the time to keep quite. It hovered over the bed peering at the two figures lying on there. A thin, long strip stretched towards the small and delicate neck. It moved up gently rubbing the earlobe bringing warm smile to the sleeping lips. It paused just for a moment savouring the moment before moving on into the ear. Deep. Deep. Even deeper…
The smile began to melt all the way into the frown. The eyeballs began to move frantically behind the closed eyelids. The single bid of sweat formed over the brow, getting heavier and finally running down the temple as the rest of body became more and more restless…



London, United Kingdom

  • Artist

Artist's Description

tense and emotional. some have inner fears…

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