“But I don’t want to go to bed, the man with no eyes is waiting for me in the closet!” I kick back my blankets, shouting at my mother. She can’t send me to bed. Not while he’s there. “There’s nothing in your closet.” My mother says with a sugar sweet voice, hands pulling the covers up to my chin. She doesn’t know though. She hasn’t seen it. “I’ll even show you!” She says. She pulls open my closet doors, revealing his hiding spot. He must be able to smell me, because the second the doors are no longer closed, his head snaps in my direction in a way that shouldn’t be normal. A sharp toothed grin flashes on his face. “NOO!” I scream, hoping she’ll shut the door, but she just shakes her head and sighs. She looks in, staring directly at him, but neither of them notice each other. She cannot see him, and he’s too focused on me. He begins to crawl out, skittering up to my bed on all fours like a spider. I let out a high pitched squeal, knowing death is near when mom shuts the closet, and he vanishes in a puff of smoke. Relief washes over me. The one thing that protects me is that door. No matter what, if the door is closed, he must return to the closet. I’m only in danger if it’s open. Mom smiles. “See? Nothing there.” She kisses my forehead before walking to the door. She flicks of the light, and just before she closes the door, she turns to me and says, “I’m always right across the hall if you need me David.” Then the door clicks shut and I’m in darkness. I don’t wait a split second before I grab my flashlight and click it on. I point it at the closet door as I creep across the room to my bookshelf. I push it in front of the door, and books scatter across the floor with a loud thump. I hear the closet door jiggle, trying to open, but eventually, it stops. Then I pile everything I can in front of it, finishing it off with a bike lock my dad kept in his back pack. I crawl into bed, eyes fixed on the door. I don’t dare sleep, even with all my defences, because I’ve slipped up too many times, had too many close calls, have to many scares to remember each encounter, where I’ve had to dive to shut the closet door. It was the first night that was the worst though. I shudder from the memories. The large claw marks starting over my heart and ending at my waist still hurt when I think of it. The blood that soaked my Pyjamas, the screaming pain that I’ll never forget, and worst of all, that neither of my parents could see it. Not the blood, nor the cuts, nor the man. I click off my flashlight, then wait, and click it back on. Nothing has changed. Maybe I will sleep tonight. I look at my clock. It’s already eleven. Nothings going to happen. I hunker down under my covers, take one last glance at the door, and click off the flash light.

Rustle.

Rustle.

Thump.

Creeeeek.

My eyes fly open. How long have I been asleep? My clock reads 3:49, and I feel suddenly anxious. Those noises. The unmistakable creek of a door, the thump of falling books. I can’t have imagined it. I fumble for my flashlight, and it’s a while before I find it, but sure enough, there it is on my night stand. I click on the light and scream.

“Shocking news story live here in New England where we find a boy dead in his bed, covered in what appear to be knife marks all across his body. The parents found him early in the morning after hearing him screaming for help, only to be too late. Police say there was no sign of break in, and that they are still trying to find the young boy’s killer. We will be back with more info on this story after a short break.”