Trang Dinh


I like to read, play games, and listen to music. I have one policy, don't like don't read. My writing is not the usual things and usually contains dark materials.

Message from Writer

Constructive criticisms would be ideal. I hope you can point out errors I make during the construction of my piece of writing.


September 1, 2014

PROMPT: In the House


"You thought they're all in your head, a figment of your imagination, but you are wrong. You have never seen them, because anyone who have seen them before never make it out alive. They cannot stand the light. They abhor the brightness of the light bulb and hiss at the glow of the moon. For thousands of years, light has hold them back, but they are getting stronger.

The light won't stop them anymore."

My sister has always been keen of horror stories. She enjoy telling them to me and has me listen with fascination rather than telling it to our brother, who, her words, "is a scaredy cat". Her stories indeed have elements of horror in it, but nothing serious, nothing I've never heard before. That is before she tells me the story of the monster of darkness. From then on, it sticks to my mind like a vicious leeches.

And tonight, as always, I think of them. Many times I imagine them poking at my feet at night. wrapping their tentacles around my ankles while reaching up for my mouth, preventing me from screaming as they give me a slow, painful, torturous death. I ponder constantly of their appearances. Most of the time the figure looks almost like an octopus, painted black with bloodshot eyes boring into my very soul, mouth drool of saliva, ready to devour its prey. And then at times they are just shadows, like water, completely cover me, cover me up, dragging me to hell. Either ways, it is horrible and terrifying. I want no such.

And yet, tonight, as I am ready to turn off my bathroom's lights, I think of them. Then, I suddenly, in the most unreasonable way, I get scare. They are not real, they are not real, they are not real!

It is foolish to think they are real in the first place. They are all inside my head. My. Head.

I come near my bed and turn on the lamp because a part of me, this small insignificant part, do not want to die.

The walk seems endless. Chills run down my spine was I keep reassure myself everything is fine by the warm bright light emitted from my lamp while I know it's not. Somehow it all feel incredibly wrong. I speed up, ready to just climb on to the bed and sleep, reminding myself that tomorrow, when the sun rises up from the sky, everything will be right and incredibly okay. I ignore the tingling feeling in my gut and the coldness of the ground, steadily walking faster.

Sitting down on the bed, I consider turning off the lamp. Should I? But then what does that make me? A coward who is fear of something she doesn't even know about. Absolutely pathetic. I turn the lamp off and let the darkness engulf me.

The night is cold. Abnormally so. It doesn't stop even when I wrap the thick blanket around myself, like it is all in my imagination, all in my head. It's not, I know to the bottom of my very soul it's not. It's there, tangible and touching me right in the face, yet not let it's appearance known. I don't want to think about it anymore, yet, at the back of my mind, I know it's there, laughing at me for being so foolish, so weak, so naive. Then, out of nowhere, I feel wind starts to flow in. I could swear I shut the windows and doors tight. Maybe it's from the AC, my mind contemplate. And then, a waft of something windy and naturally touch my smell senses, and my mind snaps out of whatever crazy theory it has been concocting. Its origin is not this room.

Then, I hear it. Droplets of water come down from the ceiling, dropping into an endless vacuum I wish not to hear or see. Tic. tic. tic. The sound keeps coming no matter what I do to block it out. Covering my ear with a pillow nearby, I try to calm myself. Nothing to be scare about. A leak. Rain. Storm. It can be anything. It's your mind messing with you. It's in your head.

When I feel something in my foot, gripping and squeezing in a way that can be called lovingly, and then, out of the blue, it begins to hurt. Like my bone is crushing. Like my whole reality is pushing down on me. The pain is scrutinizing and lethargic and I want so badly to scream. As I throw my blanket off, my hands immediately scramble for the lamp. As the light spread, I look at my legs again. Whatever is on it is gone.

Like it's all in my head.

I don't feel like sleeping tonight anyways.

I don't know how long it has been, and only snap out of my strand when the back of my eye catch glimpse of the sun rising from the small building right in front of me. Standing up and regain my composure, I realize I am actually shaking. For the first time in some time, I am actually scared. Scared like the blood is about to leave my body, like I can actually die.

They say whatever you don't know doesn't kill you. What insane ridiculous absurdity. Whatever you don't know is the main reason why you are killed. Because you don't know.

Stepping down, I limp to the bathroom, not ready to face reality, not ready to face those monsters yet.

"What is scarier? The reality or the mind?"


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  • September 1, 2014 - 11:41am (Now Viewing)

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