Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-24881951-20140701233056

As part of your nightly routine, you browse the Internet for scary stories. You highly enjoy these stories, simply finding yourself compelled to read them for whatever reason, whether it be curiosity, boredom, sadism, etcetera. Upon glancing at the corner of your computer screen, however, you realize how late the hour is, prompting you to end your online expedition and retire to your bed for the night.

Making your attempt to get as much rest as possible before you have to wake up and conquer the chores of your daily life, you cannot help but to let cross your mind all the horrors about which you have just read, along with every other bit of lore you have read about what goes bump in the night. You know these are all purely fictitious, or so you believe, yet it's inevitable for you to feel slightly uneasy from the thoughts of it all, especially as your eyes have not yet adjusted to the darkness.

"Don't be ridiculous," you tell yourself in your head before you get caught up in wondering if there actually is anything watching you in the dark. Soon, your eyes do adjust to the darkness, allowing you a vague perception of the many objects in your room. Remembering that you need to sleep, though, you decide to shut your eyes. After a few seconds, they reopen, for you simply aren't tired enough yet. Accepting this, you stare blankly at the ceiling for a while; that's when the thoughts of horror reappear in your mind.

Recalling the many descriptions of creatures that lurk in the shadows begets illusions in your peripheral vision: The materials that surround you nearly seem to take the forms of faces and the outlines of various monsters. "Don't be ridiculous," you once again scold yourself silently.

If it really is just paranoia, and you truly are alone in your room, how come you refuse to look directly at any of the figures around you? Lethargy has finally kicked in, so turning your head to do so would be an unsettling waste of energy. That may very well be the reason, as your eyes have gotten heavy, but there could also just as well be another reason: an emotion you don't want to admit you feel, the same emotion that all those stories you read intended to cause.

After all, however, that is the sole purpose of those stories, right? You reaffirm this belief to yourself as you finally drift off to sleep, but you simply cannot ignore that one part of your brain that begs the question, "Is it really ridiculous to take caution?"  