Young Writers Society

When the demon struck, the last thing I expected was to befriend it.

It began as a curse.

Every night, the sinister shadows in my bedroom coiled and shifted and loomed above me. Sometimes they took on different forms, each more chilling than the next. “Stay away from me,” I whispered desperately, but the only response was the wind laughing with amusement at my words.

One night, something materialised from the shadows. “Hello, Iris.” I quivered with shock. Surely this was merely a figment of my imagination- a dream, perhaps.

Hovering above me was a seven-foot tall, faceless creature - a heresy of nature - that seemed to be made entirely of shadows. Its bulging eyes, devoid of humanity, glowed red in the dark, and its features contorted into a nightmarish grin, a mockery of a human smile.

I was petrified and glued to the spot in shock. Every fibre of my being screamed in terror, my blood frozen.

But you should never trust what you see. “Iris,” the demon said. “Why are you afraid?”

I couldn’t tell if it was mocking me or if there was genuineness in its tone.

“I am not here to torment you. I am here to guide you through the difficult nights, the nights where the wind is the only one listening to your heaving sobs.” The creature’s hand reached out in an embrace.

The shadows wrapped around me tightly, and I found…comfort. Comfort in the tenebrosity that engulfed me, in the lilt to the demon’s voice.

The nights became easier.

The shadows stirred still, but this time I knew what lay within the darkness.