Estimated reading time — < 1 minute
You’ve never liked the silence. Ever. At first you thought it was just something you were scared of. For no reason. But as you grew older, you realized that there was a reason. There had always been a reason.
You’ve always slept with your creaky ceiling fan running. No matter how cold it was. You’d take extra blankets, you’d shiver but you’d never switch the creaky thing off. Because you knew how much you dreaded the silence.
Because you knew that once it was silent, you’d hear them.
At first, it had started out as soft hissing noises. You’d ignored it. But then you’d realized that it sounded like someone was whispering something. To you. It took you time to decipher them. You finally did. You’d never forget that.
They had told you about the Underworld. Hell. The place where everyone went once they died. There was no heaven. There was only hell. They told you about the creatures there, how every monster you’d ever feared was real. They told you terrible things.
Then they told you how your grandfather’s soul was inching closer. To hell. To death.
You remembered being at your grandpa’s funeral the very next day, shaking, more out of fear than grief.
They were real. It was real.
Since then, you’ve never allowed the silence to envelop you while you slept. You’re scared you’ll hear them. The things they spoke about still gave you nightmares.
You’ve never slept in complete darkness either.
Because that’s when you see them.
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