How I Traveled a Dark Hall

Thoughts on getting across a hall at nine.

                                                        How I Traveled a Dark Hall

                                                                By Daryl Campbell



         I fall asleep on the couch again, waking to the rhythmic clicking of the grandfather clock. My neck aches and the shoulder of my shirt is drenched in drool. I hate this, all of this. I never enjoy the dark and know I’ll have to make my way to my room without waking anyone. My eyes adjust to the black, but I feel my way across the living room: the wooden table, cluttered with things that hardly make a noise as they fall to the carpet, my grandmother’s recliner, and the tiled cabinet top let me know when I reach the kitchen.

         The smell of roast and potatoes hangs in the air from dinner and the dishwasher's humming. I make my way to the door at the end of the kitchen, stepping carefully to avoid squeaking tiles. I hit two, but don't make enough noise to wake my grandparents. I grip the wood lining of the doorway to the hall and take a deep breath. There aren’t any lights on and I must pass four doors before I reach mine at the end. The hallway’s dark and I’m sure it’s been the end of many nine year olds.

         My heart's thumping, beating wildly against my chest. The air-conditioning starts and I nearly yell, but catch myself. I don't want the things lurking in the hall to know I’m here.

         “Maybe if I walk quietly.” I think. “I should run.” I can’t see anything and know I’ll have to judge the door correctly if I do.

         I listen, but can't hear anything. They’re tricky that way. I won’t see them before they grab me. I catch a glimpse of shadows moving, barely visible with as much as I can see. I don't know where they went, probably into one of the rooms. I step in the hall, tapping my foot against the floor. Carpet squishes around my toes, letting me know I‘m where I think I am.

         “I’m gonna run!” I whisper convincingly. “On three.” My back tingles.

         “One…”

         The grandfather clock howls in deep, booming chimes. My body hits the wall on the left with a thud as I lurch forward. Fear propels me, drives me down the hall faster than I‘ve ever traveled. I trip when something reaches out to grab me, but manage to stay upright, stumbling into the door frame and bouncing into my room. Spinning, I swat the light switch with my right hand and am blinded as the white washes over me.

         I climb on the bed, hurting just a little, but safe. My vision clears and I look back down the long hall. The monsters are gone. They hate the light and always run away. I relax, but hear grandma's voice.

         “What’re you doing up this time of night, and what’s all that noise?”