My eyesight growing up was good. Too good. I would see too much.
Too many things no one else saw.
My closet would dance with shadows, long and lithe. Never-ending dancing as they would emerge from the small, slightly lit closet.
They would slowly fuse with the darkness that surrounded my room but I could still see their forms. Their shapes as they grew bigger with every shadow they consumed.
And they were hungry, that I could tell.
Luckily, before they could get to me, the crack in my bedroom blinds would stop them. The moonlight was enough to keep them at bay.
I begged my mother to keep the light on but she refused.
One night, the moon was dark and they grew faster than they ever had before.
They grew and they grew and they grew. They grew until their faces were stretched over the ceiling. Their gaping maws showed pointed teeth as I had never seen before.
And I screamed, oh god did I scream.
My mother heard me and came running in, knitting needles in hand ready to fight.
But she couldn’t see them.
It didn’t take long for the shadows to grab her and I could do nothing but watch.
I could see too much.
They started peeling my mothers skin off as she screamed in pain and confusion.
She still couldn’t see them.
I had no choice, I plunged the needles into my eyes to stop myself from seeing the monsters rip my mother in two. The pain was intolerable.
I thought it was over but it wasn’t, I could still hear them chewing her.
The night ended, and no one believed me.
Time passed and the shadows left me alone for a while.
But now they are back and they are hungry once more.
Turns out the only way you can stay safe is when you can see them.
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