Little Habits

The yellow light bathed the close, as the burning sun fell from the darkening sky in its death throes. The shadows swelled where the dying light failed to reach, growing with every minute the sun sank below the dark horizon.

Little habits. Little process ingrained in our minds since we can remember. He slid the bolt across the latch with a solid clunk. His hand gripped the handle to test its security. Reassuringly the door did not budge. Satisfied, he glanced about, checking that the windows were securely shut and locked. His back door was bolted shut, along with the sliding door to his garden. The kitchen lights were off and the remains of his meal earlier were carefully tidied away. His bare feet padded across the wooden flooring as he crossed over, making his way upstairs. Golden light bathed him while he entered the landing. Glancing over he noticed that the sun had nearly completely sunk below the line of houses opposing the cul-de-sac. Checking through the doors of the hall, noting that all the windows were closed and latched. A quick glance into his study showed it was safely secured, all his prized books carefully arranged on their shelves in neat rows- his African tribal mask's securely locked in their glass cases. He tapped on his window to make sure it was safe.

Those little things.
Reassured he was safe and secure, he entered his bedroom. He ran through everything, set his alarm, organised his papers for the next day. He lifted his china mug and drained the last dregs of his herbal tea, taking a deep sigh of satisfaction as the soothing liquid ran down his throat. The mug was set down next to him as he slipped under the covers. The cool sheets brushed against him as he watched the shadows grow and overwhelm the last faint vestiges of sunlight left. The inky dark boiled over and flooded the entire area of the room.
He laid his head back, breathing in deeply- letting the cool night air flood his sinuses. He rehearsed everything through his mind, soothing himself. Every lock and latch was played through, reassuring himself over and over. His eyes flickered shut in the blackness. Both ears prickled in the eerie bleak silence. Searching through the heavy silence for any kind of noise or sound in the empty house. Satisfied, he drew his legs slowly up to his chest, moving himself into the foetal position.
With a jarring start his ears registered a gust of wind billowing through the house- the sudden noise an explosion in the silent confines of the house. His eyes immediately opened and he fumbled for the light switch. His clumsy fingers found what they looked for and the room exploded in light. He jumped up, nightshirt billowing about him, feet thumping on the teak flooring.
Another whistle, followed by a small thump. His heart began thumping, beating a fast tattoo. He ran, shaking with fear as fast as he could down the hallway. He mumbled panicked ramblings to himself no, no, no ,no! He stopped just beyond the light of his bedroom, the dark cavernous mouth gaped back at him. Icy sweat pooled on his chest and forehead. He felt weak, like he was going to faint.
"Come on, it's the dark" he mumbled to himself, his fingers entwining in desperate fear. There were no monsters in the dark, no bogeymen hiding under the bed. His eyes vainly darted about, trying to pin-point the light switch in the dark. He heard it again, the whistle of wind and another bang, his pulse skyrocketed.
He broke. Sprinting forward, he ran blindly into the blackness. His fingers scraped against the plaster, his nails scrabbling on the hard surface.
"Where is it?!!" He whimpered, tears brimming in his eyes. After a terrifying eternity he felt hard plastic, his finger stabbed down hard on the switch. As the hall illuminated in brilliant light, he glanced about.
In the split second he saw a black figure, thin and shrivelled, seemingly woven out of the inky shadows themselves. Long skeletal fingers spread wide in a mocking wave. Before he could scream it had melted away, cowed by the brightness.
A strangled scream tried to escape his lips. Feet sliding on the floor, he scrambled back, shaking with utmost terror. In a mad rush he got to his feet and ran down the hallway. His head was pounding so hard, it felt like his skull would soon splinter under the assault. The room seemed to be almost spinning in his crazed frenzy. The darkness hiding behind every door, slinking in every shadow cast by the light, ready to advance one the stinging brightness was no more.
Gasping and panting he rounded the corner into his living room. He smashed on the light switch as hard as he could, pain flaring across his hand in the process. The hunching figures stood on the carpet vanishing immediately, faint childish giggling hanging in the air in their place.
Left to right he scanned, his ears searching for the noise of the open window. Long bony fingers waved at him from under the couch. He threw a candlestick which bounced harmlessly off the furniture.
Little things, little habits. He had failed them. He had released the darkness. It was coming for him.
He saw it. In the far corner of the room. The window hung open in the wind, the breeze coming through rustling the pages of an opened book. If he could just lock it in time....

They stood out on the garden. Beyond the reinforced glass of the window. Six of them. Woven out of a blackness so deep, they stood out even in the darkness of the night. Bent and misshapen, the stood eerily still, like tall sentinels out of the lawn.

He weighed it up. His racing mind franticly trying to judge the distance he would have to close to slam and secure the window. How much time it would take... how much he had left.
He made for it. So did his stalkers. Time seemed to slow to a sluggish crawl. Sprinting as hard as he could, he pounded across the carpet.
He saw the window handle tantalisingly grow ever closer. Outside, the dark forms closed the distance just as fast. Their limbs waved and snaked in the twilight, leaving a black vaporous trial behind them. Both closed the gap within a few seconds
It was so close, he watched rush towards him. He tensed his legs to lunge. The blood was pounding so hard he could barely think.
They were just outside. Long thin fingers reached out to scrape along the glass.
His legs felt dead. His fingertips brushed past the handle.
He crashed to the floor as the darkness billowed around him, swarming about him.
None of his limbs could move, his whole body felt numb. There was a roaring in his head. Building into a frightening crescendo. He wept, silver tears streaming down his face. He had failed in his rituals, he felt so very alone and terrified of what was to become.

Little habits. The blanket keeps the monsters out. The light scares the ghouls away. The locks keep the burglars out. Little things we keep with us since our childhoods.
The beast is kept inside its cage.

Gurgles and cracks sounded throughout the chill night. Slowly the pale figure took to its unsteady feet, stretching and testing its new lithe form's limbs- extending the cruel hooked nails on its long fingers. Its heavy lids blinked over black soulless eyes as it began to creep towards the open window. A tattered nightshirt slipped from its shoulders to fall in a heap at the floor along with a ruined pair of underclothes. The figure slowly clambered outside through the open window, dropping down onto the clipped grass of the lawn. A long glistening tongue slid over the double rows of vicious curved teeth, tasted the air and wetting its lips with anticipation. Tonight it was free. Tonight It would hunt.
Tonight It would taste flesh.