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Remember to Turn the Lights On


I was six, maybe seven years old when this happened. My family had just gotten back from visiting my aunt’s house. My cousins were watching a scary movie in the basement, and even though my parents said I would get scared, I snuck downstairs and watched some of it. I don’t remember what part I saw, but there were little monsters with teeth that would eat people in their sleep.

When we left for home it was dark outside and my parents scolded me for watching that movie. I secretly hoped they would keep scolding me, because I was feeling sleepy and didn’t want those things to eat me.

We got home fine and my parents even managed to calm me down enough to the point where when my bedtime came around I could go to sleep.

I fell asleep almost immediately and slept pretty well. I woke up sometime during the night. Knowing where everything is in my house I didn’t turn the lights on, but instead used the street light coming in the windows. I went to the bathroom and then got a glass of water. As I was putting the glass in the dishwasher, something pricked my hand. I pulled my hand back and switched on the lights, but there was nothing in the dishwasher.

I looked at my hand and it had four little indents on the top and bottom where something had broken through the skin. Since that day I’ve had little bumps on my skin where the marks were, and I always remember to turn the lights on.

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