It was the sudden war-drum of rain hitting the tin roof that woke Elaina. That and the beep and click that announces the death of the ambient electric humming you've forgotten about until it's not there anymore. In the moment of uncertainty that immediately follows a power outage, Elaina could only listen to the storm settling in. The dark was here to stay. She reached for her phone and tapped the screen. The assault of light left her blinded and scrambling to lower the brightness.

2:38am.

A crack of thunder rolled over the sound of rain. Stubbornly awake now, she resigned herself to reading by candlelight. Elaina hadn't been afraid of the dark since she was eight. She yanked the now-useless charging cable from the phone and checked the battery.

28%.

Elaina turned the phone's torch on and opened the bedroom door. The hallway lit up with the white-ish glow of torchlight reflecting off facets of tiled floor. Shadows waivered at the end, caught in the throw of light. Certain there was nothing to trip on, Elaina turned the torch off. Moving unhurried down the hallway, she felt a feather-light brush against her leg.

               Damn moths.

She shook away the lingering sensation of nearly-not-there touch. She put her hand out for the wall, feeling for the end of the hallway. The cold paint felt almost slimy under her fingertips. It caused adrenaline to dry her mouth. She shivered at the feel and brushed it away. As her fingers slipped off the end of the wall she froze, caught with sudden anticipation. Like she would turn the corner and see a shape or a face that shouldn't be there. Elaina scoffed at herself and kept on her way.

You're not scared of the dark.

In the darkness of the living room, her scalp prickled as if there were eyes on her. She turned in a panic as the first flash of lightning lit an empty room. She took a breath and started to laugh. Chiding herself for jumping at shadows, she slipped her phone into a pocket. Above her, a flash of something, like the smoke detector flashed out of rhythm for a beat. Brushing it off this time, she shuffled through the dark for the cabinet that held her stash of candles and lighter. Hand finding cold paraffin and glass, she flicked the lighter and let the wick catch. Warm orange light flickered. Elaina screamed and dropped the candle. The fledging flame died in the air.

Close enough that she would have felt warm breath if it had any, had been a face. Contorted in a grotesque mockery of humanity. Seemingly tangible in effervescent black. Then it was gone again in the dark.

Elaina stumbled a backstep. She fought to keep her breathing even. She smelt smoke. Acrid and too foul for the candle at her feet. It clung to the back of her throat and coated her tongue like bile.

I imagined it. I imagined it. I imagined it.

She stepped towards the hallway, seeking the comfort of her room.

I imagined it. I imagined it. I imagined it.

I imagined it. I imagine—

Something solid settled on her shoulder, curling around like gripping fingers. Digging into bone. Elaina screamed and thrashed and threw her hands over her shoulders, hoping to strike loose whatever had her. She made no contact as she launched herself forward. The sharp thump of her bare feet on tiles echoed down the silent hallway. The echo fell out of rhythm. It picked up pace. Gaining on her. Chasing her. Elaina felt her hair catch on something like fingers winding and twisting. She was all but running now. She could feel tugging on her hair and shirt. 

Cold wrapped around her ankle. 

And pulled.

Her leg flew out from under her. She hit tiles. She had just enough time to twist, her arm taking the impact for her face. Pain lanced through her shoulder and down to her wrist. She tried to kick free, striking nothing. Managing to scramble to her feet, Elaina dug furiously through her pockets for her phone. She found it and was freeing it, aiming to get any source of light she could, when one of those hands clamped around her wrist.

And squeezed. And kept squeezing as Elaina struggled to keep hold. Kept squeezing so tight that it forced her to twist free, dropping her phone in the process. She heard it bounce and skitter back down the hallway. Lost to the things in the dark.

Taking advantage of a moment of freedom, she threw herself the last feet of the hallway and into her room. She slammed the door shut and huddled against it, praying hopelessly for sanctuary.

Cold like nails scratched trails across her ribs and stomach. Curling smaller against herself, Elaina cried. She sat frozen as darkness pulled at her hair and cold tore at her skin.

Click.

Beep.

Silence.

Elaina sat on the floor as the attack stopped dead.

Like nothing happened.

 

Author Bio: Courtney Guagliardo is Western Australian young adult fiction and poetry writer. In 2022, she finished her Bachelor of Art and Literature and is now working on her Masters of Creative Writing through Edith Cowan University. She had her first published work in The Little Journal's 2024 inaugural edition.

 

Copyright © Courtney Guagliardo, 2025