I was always the last to go to bed, the one who turned out the lights and made the definitely-not-worried-but-faster-than-just-walking pace to my bedroom alone in the dark. I used to think that it was only my imagination that made the darkness of the house seem to scary until I caught sight of it slinking around a corner, not following me but trying to find me.
At first I assumed it was blind, though I couldn't really make out much of a face in the dark and was too afraid of what it might look like if I turned on a light. A small part of my mind wondered if it would vanish entirely, if it was a creature that only existed when there was no light at all.
I would find myself crouched on the stairs just watching it move from room to room, making soft disappointed hisses when it found itself alone and clicking with delight when it spotted me on the steps. That was when I'd find myself racing towards my room and locking the door before it could reach me.
It never occurred to me that it could see, that it knew where I was and was playing with me. Not the way a cat plays with a mouse but like you play hide-and-seek with a child. Found that out when I wasn't fast enough and it cornered me on the landing inches away from my room.
My eyes were closed tight and I was fully expecting to die when I felt it.
A light tap on my shoulder and a single word hissed out.
Tag.
Ever since that night I try to go to bed before everyone else, claiming I'm tired or my head hurts or I'm going to read for a while - anything to not be there when all the lights are turned off and the creature comes back to play. I don't think I have the stomach to hunt it back.
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