Shush, You Make Wake Him

The door creaks open, the sound refracted and echoing in the small room. It hinges screaming of misuse and age, metal on metal grinding each other down. The wood, long since its prime, shudders and cracks at the mere touch. Still cold from the air surrounding it. The hand pushing it trying to reduce the painful sound the door gives, an injured animal giving out its finally cries for aid, for salvation. The hand on the door is warm, trying to give the same heatwave to the room it looks to enter. It gives a final push allowing the light from behind it to penetrate the udder darkness from inside. Light an unwelcome visitor within the complete darkness.

The room looks used, as if the mess which was meant to be cleaned up was not. Overly packed and disorganized. The items scattered across the floor making a minefield of noise. Either from those who misstep and allow the oblong items to shoot pain through them, soon followed by painful screams. Or the items themselves reawaken and playing songs long forgotten, sounds of dying batteries and broken speakers. 

The person reaches inside the room, now having enough space to allow their hands to slide against the wall. In search of a switch to break the crushing darkness and illuminate the secrets within the room. At any moment, an entity from the dark may be reaching out to snatch the hand and drag the innocent explorer into its domain. The arm sliding up and down the wall in deep search for any contact with the switch, the outer casing being a guide.

As the hand meets the switch, a momentary pause is taken. The moment before the storm meets ground and what is hidden becomes shown. For all secrets and unknowns to be brought into the light. The hand, almost without fear, pushes the switch up, light catching like fire and consuming the darkness. Light flooding the room making the items which had once looked menacing become clear and friendly. Fear is also chased away as light forces it back into its hiding places beneath beds and deep within closed closets.

The air lightens and becomes less heavy, as the person finally speaks, ready to face the beast that lies within.

“Wake up!” the voice said in a loving but dominating tone. “You are going to be late for school.”

The mother walks back to the kitchen to get her coffee, now having completed her duty as the alarm for her son