Don't Stay Up

Coming into my first year of being a teenager, I would often get involved with various games. To be more specific, they were scary games. Initially, I had no one to keep me company when I first moved into the state of Pennsylvania. My strange sense of humor and shyness ended up quarantining me away from my peers. Thankfully, I was very blessed to befriend this fella. I always dragged him along with me to partake in these suicidal games.

His name was Andy. I swear, we had so much in common, that we would often talk about how much we were “clones”. We played video games together, sports, and we even committed pranks on each other. He always kept his promises and so did I. Over the years, we bonded, even more so, we were more closer than any best friend or family ever could be. On various occasions, we played with an Ouija board or chanted the name of “Bloody Mary” three times to the mirror every cold, dark weekend.

To no avail, we did not get the results that we wanted. Despite the let-downs, they did not stop us from consistently trying them out. Ironically, the more our plans did not work out, the more we have anticipated for the next weekend to come into place. Once we finally reached the age of 18, the joys of waiting for thin air had ceased. The urban legends, Creepypastas, and other things became....boring. That's when kept I interest in repetitive memes.

One day, I had been sitting in my bed, studying for the final exams of my Senior year. Andy rushed into my home and dashed into my room, incoherently speaking. I asked him what had happened, and he told me that he had found out about a new game. He told me about how no one managed to walk away from it. Those few words were the only thing that would drag my attention away from my assignment, as I had threw my mechanical pencil onto the textbook.

He explained to me that all we had to do was just cut our hand and swipe the blood onto our clock. That's it? It certainly did not seem like an interesting game to me, as it sounded like a cheap activity out of a cereal box. He went on to tell me that we should get started on it. It most likely did not make any sense to play this in broad daylight, but I took his anxiousness into much consideration.

He didn't dare to explain what the game was all about until we were finished smearing a small droplet of blood onto the alarm clock at my bedside. “The name of the game,” he guffawed, “is Terror-man.” I looked at him in dismay and shook my head. He went on to lecture about how the Terror-man, hence the title, would come after you if you stood up past 12 am. About how the blood enabled him to escape the depths of hell and bring his callers down with him.

It sounded a bit cheesy, but at least I knew I got it over with right on the spot. Or, at least I thought. Night had finally came and Andy was away at his place in preparation for our sleep over. We seemed a bit too old for this, but, apparently, we need each other at the moment. It seemed to be a waste of my time, but I didn't dare question his creativity. I couldn't ruin our friendship. Not now.

As the only child in the family household, I was living just with my parents, who were downstairs in their bedroom. I suppose that they were fast asleep. As early as the night was, it wasn't even an inch of my surprise to me as they slept early every night.

Finally, the door bell rang. I rushed downstairs and pulled open the door. To my astonishment, Andy had came with nothing but himself. No extra clothes, no sleeping bag, and not even snacks. I quickly shook it off of my shoulders, ridding all of the unnecessary concerns. We made it back to my room. Once I shut the door, he blankly walked straight forward and laid on the floor. Quickly he was fast asleep. At this point, I was actually confused and a little shaken up.

Seeing that we both had mutual fatigue, I flicked the light switch down, jumped into my bed and slid into my covers. I stared at the ceiling for a short period of time then glanced at the clock to my left. 12 am. All I could hear were the sounds of the ominous winds rustling against the leaves outside. Silver moonlight illuminated the gloomy bedroom. The patterns of the trees formed strange images on the walls. A little night-light design to that matter.

I kept the phone right beside me for precautionary measures. I thought that maybe Andy was trying to scare me a little bit. Once again, I abandoned my paranoia and repositioned myself to where the wall was right in front of my face. Suddenly, my phone rang. Startled and still facing the wall, I reached beyond the blanket and pulled out the cellphone. It was Andy's number calling me.....

I pressed the green button and rested the speaker beside my ear. “Yes?” I called in an annoyed manner. Andy's voice, excited as ever, explained to me that he was on his way.

My heart sank. I tried to tell him my voice of concern and uprising fear, but nothing came out. I literally could not speak. He hanged up the phone after multiple tries of getting me to answer him. I tried as hard as I could, but came out unsuccessful. Before he ended the call, he told me that he would no longer come over to my home due to my stubbornness. At this point, I had been fully tainted with fright.

A few seconds later, low growling is heard right beside my bed. My heart felt sour, and I stared blankly at the wall opposite to where I could feel breathing in the back of my head. I slowly slid under the my blanket, not facing whatever thing was behind me. The more submerged I got, the more closer and louder the growling became. Once I reached under my heavy blankets, I pinned down every corner to shield myself from whatever was out there.

Tears rolled down my cheeks. I locked my eyelids and I wanted to scream aloud. I feared this action would only anger the thing, and hurt me outright. Then I felt its long, bony fingers run across my back. That feeling hurt a little, but made me tremble in ultimate fear. I then felt it tugging away at the blanket. Quietly I sobbed, and challenged the pull.

It started to violently tug at this point. It occurred to me that it only wanted me to see its grotesque appearance before my demise. I used all of the strength I had in me to keep the blankets in tact. The struggle went on for about a minute or so.

Quickly, it ceased. I sat there in silent tears, wondering if it was all over. There I laid, in the covers and still facing the solid wall. Everything stood silent for about a good 30 minutes or so. I didn't know how I could get past the night. I didn't know how I would just fall asleep after an experience like that, then wake up later bathed in sunlight. I hoped for the best to come. Immediately, I heard my bedroom door swing open and a familiar voice reached my ear.

It was my mother, calmly calling my name and asking if I was okay. Relieved, I quickly emerged from the blankets.

There, a pale faced demon with a red, heavy gaunt face stood beside my bed. Wearing a dark robe that blended into the darkness, it stared its red, cat eyes into my soul, reaching its long, red fingers towards me. My eyes immediately froze and focused on it. I could not scream....and I could not move.