There are things in this world that cannot be explained.
They crawl out from among the shadows of our minds and live under our beds, in the back of closets, in deserted alleys, just waiting to catch us alone.
You want to believe they’re not real, just remnants of a childhood imagination.
But yet, they remain.
You feel their eyes on your back, their breath on your neck.
These things, these fears.
They’re watching you, waiting for you, as you tell yourself they don’t exist.
Can they still hurt you if you don’t believe?
We’re born knowing fear.
Fear is instinct.
Fear is a warning.
As children, we’re told the dark can’t hurt us.
And that may be true.
It’s really the things living in the dark, we need to fear most.