- Pitch Black

You thought you'd learned not to make a sound when you cried. And you're right, no one can hear your muffled sobs behind the heavy wall of your room. No one can hear you, except him. Despite your age, despite the fact that you no longer believe in those silly myths, about a fairy who, in exchange for a tooth, paid a few coins. You don't believe in anything like that and you deny it with a vague, doll-like gesture and an ironic laugh. But when his name is mentioned, your voice trembles, as if unconsciously recognizing the name as something ancient and profound. You don't sound convinced when you deny it, as you do with other things. Despite your age, which may make you feel guilty, and even though you're ashamed of yourself for feeling this way, you've never overcome your fear of the dark. You sleep clutching your pillow, in the same room as your mother. You excused yourself by saying you were watching over her sleep, but if you don't sleep with someone... the loneliness that accompanies the darkness fills you with an unbearable sense of dread and uncertainty about what lurks behind your door. Tonight was no different: you put on a movie so the background noise would give you a sense of companionship, and your mother slept with her back to you. Your eyelids grow heavy, and you finally fall asleep, but minutes, perhaps hours later, you awaken to the figure of a man staring at you with a pitying curiosity. You don't know if you're still in your room or not, if it's reality or a strange wet dream... his sandy, dark presence envelops you like a shroud. But when she speaks, her voice is surprisingly clear and even younger than one would expect... I-I can't...your fear....