Terry Pratchett, in his book “Thud!”, imagines that darkness has a soul. Some darkness is merely shadow, but other darkness is more than that. It is not simply an absence of light; it is its opposite, a kind of anti-light, far older and more terrifying.
There are many kinds of darkness, ranging from simple twilight to starless night, in which anything could be hidden. The primal darkness that awakens in us the basic fear of the predator.
The Devouring Darkness
I had been living in this small apartment south of Kinsington for a few weeks. The bedroom was tiny but had its own bathroom, and, more importantly, the apartment itself was a former cellar, a second basement level on the courtyard side of the building. It therefore had the advantage of being very quiet. Ideal for sleeping without being disturbed by streetlights.
I come from a small, remote village in Devon. I grew up in an isolated house under often rainy skies. So you can’t say I’m afraid of the dark. I’ve experienced very dark nights pierced by the cries of nocturnal animals. Yet there was something deeply unsettling about this total darkness, especially in London.
Something didn’t seem natural, and I, a country girl, found myself more than once waking up in the middle of the night, disturbed by its utter emptiness and complete silence. I would sometimes turn my bedside lamp back on for a few minutes just to shake off this sticky darkness.
One night in particular, I was woken by a sudden and urgent need to use the restroom. It was incredibly difficult to get out of bed, not wanting to wake my boyfriend at the time who was sleeping next to me. I got up and cautiously made my way to the bathroom, arms outstretched as I walked, without even seeing my own hands.
I took two steps, then three, stretched my arms out a little further, but something wasn’t right. The room couldn’t have been more than eight square meters, and even with my cautious little strides, I should have been able to touch a wall! So I took another step, then another, but still nothing!
My heart was pounding so hard I could hear it in my ears and feel it in my neck. I tried shifting to the right to find another wall and walk along it, but there was nothing, nothing, still nothing! Just emptiness beneath my hands, hands that were flailing about in the darkness.
I closed my eyes, turned around, and trembling, retraced my steps. Two big steps, three small ones… no bed, panic overwhelmed me. I moved forward, as fast as I could, trembling, staggering, flapping my hands as fast as I could to touch something, anything! But my fingers met only emptiness.
It was suddenly far too cold. The floor beneath my feet was icy and no longer resembled the parquet floor of my bedroom. I called my boyfriend.
“SAAAAAAM, SAAAAAAAAAAAAAAM!”
My voice sounded strange, with a curious reverberation, like when you’re in a vast space. I also had the impression that something stopped, like a background murmur you only notice when it ceases. Not necessarily threatening, but more like a sudden noise that silences the birds and insects. Something in the dark was watching me, I was certain of it. I literally dropped to my hands and knees and kept moving forward, breathless, my eyes filled with tears.
Suddenly, I heard a noise to my left. A sleepy sigh, someone turning over. I reached out and felt the sheets. I jumped onto the bed like a shipwrecked sailor grabbing a lifebuoy. I was shaking like a leaf. I grabbed my phone and turned on the flash, pointing it at the room.
There was nothing there. The light didn’t reach the walls or the ceiling. My bed could have been in a parking lot outside. Something moved at the edge of my vision. I then abruptly turned my phone in that direction and saw the bookcase at the foot of the bed in the halo of light. I looked around the room and… everything was there: the chair, the desk, the bathroom less than four meters away.
This phenomenon never happened again. You might find it strange, but I didn’t move afterward. My meager income at the time wouldn’t allow it. But I did buy a small nightlight, which I never turned off for as long as I slept there.
This story is partly true. I’ve never been able to afford to live in Kensington, but there’s always a grain of truth in my stories. “We always write about what we know.”
Fun fact, well, not so fun for me:
I’m afraid of the dark. I’m a little ashamed of it, but if I’m alone in my room, I can’t sleep without a nightlight. (And if there’s a power outage in the evening, I think I’m capable of bursting a few eardrums.) I can only sleep with all the lights off if I’m with someone I trust completely.
And you, are there things that scare you? I’m curious, and above all, I want to feel less alone in having such childish fears!
Another slightly embarrassing fun fact:
The real climax, the moment I touched the sheets in this story, in real life, was the hand of a police officer.
I’ve been prone to sleepwalking since childhood, but this is the first time it’s gone this far. This time, during my episode, I managed to leave the apartment and the building, finding myself barefoot and scantily clad in the street. Luckily, I ran into a kind police officer.
I hope you enjoyed this little story and that my anecdotes made you smile.
Hugs and kisses! See you soon.
Orchid's Whims 
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