The Beautiful Dark

Finn scurried down the stairs and stepped out into the cold night. As he ran, visions of the old man in a blindfold waving his hands in the air, chanting in a language alien to Finn came to him. The chant easily carried through the neighbourhood as if the wind wanted to share the old man’s spell with the rest of the village.

He remembered Dad leaving the house to make a complaint. He never came home. Finn knew Dad was in trouble and if anything had happened to Dad, the old man was going to get what’s coming to him.

Finally, he reached the patch of green surrounding the old man’s tent. His legs felt as if he couldn’t hold his own weight anymore as he approached the tent. It was as if a malevolent force wanted to stop him. Regardless, he willed himself on.

The old man’s tent looked like something you might find in a travelling circus. Old and smudged with age, colours faded. It was huge. Finn shivered. He peeked inside. The old man was sitting on a wooden chair. He had taken off his blindfold but Finn could not quite make out his facial features. Finn leant in trying to get a better look and lost balance. He found himself on the floor. The old man looked up with a smirk as if expecting him. Finn got up and cautiously walked towards him.

“Greetings, my dear boy”, his voice barely a whisper. Finn screamed. The old man had no eyes. There were gaping holes where the eyes should be. His eye sockets were stained with a black liquid.

“The eyes are not the only sense we have,” he said with a smile, “Do you know why we destroyed our eyes?!!” he taunted. Finn was too shocked to say anything. “So we could see ourselves. The beautiful Dark.” He chuckled. Then screamed hysterically. Black slime dripped from his empty eye sockets. Finn had a terrible feeling. Fear coursed through him. For a moment, he could not move.

“What have you done to my dad?” stuttered Finn.

“He’s with us now! In the dark!” laughed the old man.

Finn screamed again. Not in fear but in rage. He leapt at the old man but missed. The man grabbed Finn’s arm. It felt icy cold. Finn reacted almost instantly and jabbed his finger up the man’s eye socket with force. Slime oozed out. The old man screamed in agony. Finn tried to wrest his arm from his icy grasp. Finally, the old man let go and stumbled around the tent, clutching his face. Finn hastily scampered out of the tent. Looking back, the old man had ran into the night.

The sky was pitch black. No one had seemed to have woken from the commotion. Cicadas buzzed. “Bzzzz, Bzzzzzzz”. That was the moment Finn remembered that cicadas don’t buzz at night. He turned around. A colossal bat descended from the sky, screaming for blood.

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