DARK

Nisha had always been afraid of the dark.

It wasn’t just a childhood fear—it was something deeper, something irrational. Even as an adult, she kept a bedside lamp on while sleeping. The darkness wasn’t just an absence of light to her; it was a presence.

Her therapist called it Nyctophobia, a severe fear of darkness. But Nisha knew it was something else.

Because every time the lights went out, she felt something watching her.

It started when she moved into her new apartment. The place was perfect—affordable, close to work, and had plenty of windows. But there was one problem.

The bedroom light flickered at random.

At first, she assumed it was faulty wiring. But then, she started noticing something strange.

Whenever the lights flickered, the shadows in the room seemed to move.

One night, while reading in bed, the bulb went out completely. The room was swallowed by darkness.

For a moment, everything was silent.

Then she heard it.

A soft, rasping breath.

Right next to her.

She fumbled for her phone’s flashlight, heart pounding.

The light flickered on.

There was nothing.

Just the empty room.

But the air felt different—as if something had just moved away.

The next few nights were worse.

She started seeing things. Or at least, she thought she did.

Whenever the room went dark, a tall, thin figure appeared in the corner. It never moved, never made a sound. Just stood there.

At first, she convinced herself it was her imagination, a trick of her tired mind.

Until one night, when she blinked—and it had moved closer.

She stopped sleeping after that.

Exhausted and desperate, she installed string lights around her room, ensuring it was never completely dark.

It worked. The figure stopped appearing.

For a while.

Then, one night, a power outage hit the building.

All the lights went out.

And she felt it immediately.

Something shifted in the darkness.

She reached for her phone—but her hands were shaking too much to turn on the flashlight.

The breathing was back. Closer this time.

A voice, low and distorted, whispered in the dark.

"You can’t avoid me forever."

Nisha screamed.

The next morning, she ran to her therapist, Dr. Kapoor.

"I think I’m losing my mind," she admitted.

Dr. Kapoor listened carefully, then sighed.

"You’re not imagining it, Nisha."

Nisha froze.

"What do you mean?"

The therapist hesitated before saying, "There are cases like yours. People who experience… the dark differently."

"Differently?"

"The darkness isn’t empty for you. It’s alive. And it’s waiting."

A cold dread settled in Nisha’s stomach.

"Waiting for what?"

Dr. Kapoor didn’t answer.

But Nisha already knew.

That night, she refused to sleep. She lined the room with candles, lamps, anything that could keep the darkness away.

But at exactly midnight, her phone vibrated.

A text message.

Unknown Number: “Turn off the lights.”

Her hands trembled.

A second message came.

Unknown Number: “Or I will.”

And then—

All the lights in her apartment went out.

Nisha scrambled for her phone, but the screen wouldn’t turn on. The darkness was thick, heavier than ever before.

Then, the breathing returned. Right next to her ear.

A voice whispered:

"You ran for too long."

Something cold wrapped around her wrist. She tried to pull away, but it held tight.

The figure from the corner was no longer in the corner.

It was right in front of her.

The last thing she heard was a whisper, soft and final.

"Now, you’re part of the dark."

And then—silence.

The next morning, her landlord knocked on her door.

No answer.

The police were called. They found her apartment empty—no signs of struggle, no personal belongings missing.

Just one thing was off.

The walls of her bedroom were covered in shadows, darker than they should be.

And in the corner of the room, if you stared long enough, you could almost see…

A tall, thin figure.

Still watching.

Still waiting.

💀The End💀

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