There's a large black suitcase in the living room. A man in a dark suit stands patiently beside it. He watches me sadly from behind his spectacles as I walk to the bedroom.
"Who is that man in the lounge?" I ask as I ready myself for bed.
"Don't." he says simply. "Don't go out there. It is coming to collect him."
The suitcase is there again the following night. And the night after that, and again for many nights. Sometimes It remains in the lounge. Sometimes It stands solidly in front of the kitchen door, as if to block any attempts of escape. It emits a hollow darkness which echoes in my belly and I know to be Fear.
I do not see the man again.
The days are bright, the sun washes the Fear away and I am happy. I dance around in my wee house, doing my happy homely things, until the day fades and the duvet beckons. I climb, pyjama clad, into my safe bed, with my safe book.
The music is still playing. I've forgotten to turn the music off. It's loud. Too loud. I have to go back out..
But I am afraid.
"Baby. Can you turn the music off please? It's just that.."
"Of course. Just stay here." It is nothing to him.
I fall asleep. A heavy, dreamless sleep.
When I awaken, it is black. A darkness so thick it is hard to move. His side of the bed is empty. Cold. "Dave?"
The realisation jolts me awake and I half-scramble, half-fall out of the bed. "DAVE!" My scream comes out strangled, muted, gasping. My head is yanked towards the ground as my hands fly to my neck. Wrapped around my throat is the long handle of a sack full of rocks. It tightens like a noose as I struggle in panic. The blackness enveloping me is not the dark. It is Fear.
Struggling out of the bedroom into the lounge. Panic. I cannot see. "DAVE!" I gasp. It takes all I have to get out his name. "DAVE!!" The rocks are heavy and the noose only tightens around my neck. On my hands and knees, pulling the rocks behind me. I make it to the kitchen..
The suitcase is there.
It is the source of all the darkness and It sends a Fear that fills my mouth and nostrils, fills my eyes, weighs down my hair, like some cold thick crude oil that can never be washed away. I am frozen, struck voiceless, immobile and choking. It is so very cold.
For an eternity I cannot look away.
Then it disappears.
I spring, all weight lifted from me. I spring, driven, into the bathroom. Across cold linoleum. Driven forward by unknown momentum and the knowledge that I must. I must go. I trip.
I trip. I cannot look down, but I know what has caught my flying feet. It is cold. It used to be human. It is dead on the floor.
But I cannot stop. I must not stop. I must go.
A New Door appears before me and cannot remain closed before my momentum. A New Door that bursts open under my weight and reveals something Glorious. The Fear is driven back by Golden Light. Light that explodes into my senses. And there you are, sitting on the bed, smiling. The Light is coming from you.