It stood there, silver cold eyes piercing my own, just like every night before. Unwanted, unwelcome, unnerving. Why does it return, what does it want? Questions I didn’t want answered. Smoky tendrils licked the doorway, ebbing and flowing, never quite making their way into my room. But it wanted to, it longed to. I couldn’t explain why I knew this, but I just did. The rise and fall of my chest was the only indication that I was awake. Gravity had pinned me to my bed; no matter my desire to move, nothing would. Desire, a word fitting for this creature. It gave off waves of it. Desire to be let in, desire to embrace me, desire to devour me. But for some reason, every night, it just stood there, prisoner to the archway, as I lay prisoner to my own paralysing fear.

*

I jolted awake, ears ringing, vision blackened. I couldn’t make heads or tails of the floor or ceiling. The room slowly spun back into view, the backs of my eyes ached, pulsating in the rhythm of my thrumming heart. The doorway was empty, but the cold presence was still there. I could feel it. I slowly reached for my bedside lamp and flicked the switch the moment it reached my hand. Light spilled into the hall, keeping the shadows at bay.

The overwhelming need to pee took over my fear. “You’re a grown man, suck it up,” a peptalk I’d practiced like a nightly prayer, chastising myself whilst trudging to the bathroom. Amazing how quickly you recover when the lights are on. After what felt like the Guinness World Record for peeing, normalcy seeped back into my bones. Dark circles etched into my face, I splashed the winter cold water over my skin and opened the medicine cabinet. The aching behind my eyes remained.

I closed the cabinet. Silver eyes stared back at me, a smoky shadow looming behind me in the glass. It lurched forward as my face smashed into the mirror. Searing cold pain, with a warmth that felt wrong, bloomed across my face. I couldn’t open my eyes, but I knew I was on the floor, the slick cold tiles beneath my palms and the sink had overflowed, soaking my pyjamas.

I don’t know how long I sat there. The pain had subsided, replaced by a pulling sensation — hunger? I leveraged myself up using the toilet bowl for support, not brave enough to fully open my eyes, I squinted. To my surprise they were both intact, a miracle no shards had taken them out. I slowly made my way down the hall, arms steadying me against the walls. I reached the doorway and froze.

A motionless body looked back at me from the bed.

*

Words by Mitch Steed – Inspired by night terrors during 2022 – 2024