Dark shadows and strange shapes danced around Jason Dillinger's room.
He lay in his bed small relatively comfortable bed. He was hugging his favorite toy-a stuffed chicken. One of the the toys eyes had fallen off due to its considerable age and to the ever relentless handling from Jason.
Jason's small hands clutched the fake chicken tightly, his hands were as white as the the milk he had drunk before sliding into his cold bed for the night. The warm kiss was still tingling his forehead from where his mother had planted it.
Jason had rarely slept in the past few days. Ever since his entire chicken flock had been slaughtered. Every hen had been decapitated. Jason was the first to discover the gruesome scene. He had dropped the bucket filled with feed in which he was to feed the birds with. Its contents had spilled all over the place. In other cases Jason wouldn't have matter.
But now there were no hens to eat the spill.
Jason's eyes had filled with tears. But now one had fallen from his lids.
For Jason had spotted one survivor. His eyes softened rapidly. He rushed forward to hug the poor creature when it uttered a final weak caw and dramatically fell to the floor. Dust had puffed up on both sides. The dust floated lazily out of the cage and into the open air. Jason had fainted at that moment. He landed square in the middle of the blood and bird droppings.
Jason's father had found him lying face down in the mess. he had taken one quick look at the dead birds and barely managed to keep his breakfast down. he gathered his boy up and hauled him into the house.
Later when he cleaned the mess up. He had thought to himself, the birds severed necks, the cut was so damn clean
"No fox could have done that", he had told his wife later in bed. He slept restlessly that night.
Jason had begun to have visions. Visions of a dark hooded figure sitting in the corner of his room. The hooded figure was matted with blood and white chicken feathers.
Once when the silvery dime shaped moon and floated out from behind a cloud. Its silvery light had filtered through Jason's half covered window, and Jason could have sworn he had seen a slight twinkle of an axe blade or maybe a pair secateurs coming from the darkest part of the room -the corner. Jason didn't know which nor did he care then for he began to scream like a wounded cockatoo and then he had wet the bed.
Both his parents then stumbled into his room flicking the switch as they did so.
The room was bathed in glorious-safe-white light.
Jason's parents faces were sheepish with sleep.
"Whats wrong bud?" his dad asked sitting down on his sons bed. A look of tired concern on his face. Jason's mother stood at the door. A look of puzzlement was on her face. She thought(just for a moment) that she saw a black shroud slink out and through the slightly open window.
Jason's father had soothed his son and he then left for bed-again.
The next Jason had found a single with feather on the floor in the corner of his room .
Now Jason cowered in fear in his bed. The covers pulled up over his chin. His eyes firmly fixed upon the corner of the room.
He had to pee. The milk he had before bed was a major mistake for him.
After much consideration. He had gave in and had tipped toed up the hall way to the toilet. The dark was all around him now. It enveloped him. Jason felt his way to the to the door of the toilet.
A eye catching twinkle was emitted from the darkness. Jason held his breath. Paralyzed by fear. He couldn't move. No matter how much he urged his feet to do so. The tiny light became a dull red. It began to blink slowly. A owl hooted from the nearby tree, out side the house. Eventually the red dissipated. It dissolved into the darkness, like smoke.
Jason urinated shortly after and then returned to his bed. His heart no longer thumping like a drum.
He felt his way to his room. Jason felt the fear flood over him again. Something was here definitely this time. His leg touched the bed pole. Jason couldn't take it any more he felt for the switch. His heart in his throat he couldn't find it. His sweaty fingers eventually found the switched with a flourish he flicked the switch. Jason's eyes took time to register the sudden change in light.
He swiveled blindly back towards the bed his vision clearing. He had time to make out his favorite toy chicken. Its head was missing, stuffing spouted up from where the head had been ripped from its stitching.
Jason gulped. Two blades one each side of his neck pressed against him. The steel was bitterly cold against his unprotected neck.
In a quick jerk. Jason's neck was cut cleanly from his shoulders. The sharp secateurs came together again.they dripped sinisterly with blood.
Jason's head landed with a dull thud on his bed still warm from where he had lay.
With a smile. The hooded figure flicked the switch and was swallowed by the darkness.
It's red eyes winked out.
"Lights Off," it whispered.
