It.

I wake up, and look over to the clock on my night table - 2:14 am. My peripherals catch a glimpse of my closet. It’s open, which seems odd, I vaguely remember it being closed last night before falling asleep… Whatever. I’m tired. I’m so tired.
After what seems like hours of rearranging myself in my bed, I finally return to sleep.

My alarm clock wakes me this time. 6 am, the proper hour to rise.
I rub my eyes, sleepily, and trudge to my closet, open the door to get my clothes and hat.
That’s funny… I remember waking up and the door was open… It was probably just a dream.

I move through my day like clockwork.
Leave my flat at 7:30 to arrive to work (at a small, local coffee shop) 10 minutes before my shift begins, just enough time to have some coffee of my own.
At 3:30, the timer rings, signaling the end of my shift. I finish making my last customer’s drink before leaving.
My cat greets me by running to my legs and rubbing against them as I walk through my door, tripping me up slightly, but I’m used to it. I pick him up and hug him, my true companion. I put the kettle on to boil, and sit down. My cat curls up in my lap while I stroke his little head. A few minutes later, the kettle whistles, and I go into the kitchen for tea. I sit and read for a while, and eventually look up to see that it’s already nearly 10 pm.
“Blimey,” I say to myself.
I set my book back down on the table and run a bath. Afterwards, I brush my teeth and go to my closet for pyjamas. I close the door and crawl into bed.

I wake up before my alarm again. This is annoying. It happens too often.
I check the time. 2:07 am. I look away from the glowing numbers, irritated. Why can’t I ever sleep the whole night through?
I lay in silence, contemplating whether or not I should read or get back to sleep, when I hear something. A quiet noise, almost as if it were trying to be quiet. Squinting my eyes to adjust to the darkness of the room, I notice a tiny movement in my closet, who’s door is open.
I’m baffled.
I know I closed it. I know I did. Can I be dreaming?
For some reason I feel uneasy as I step out of bed and toward the closet. Something tells me not to go near it, but to go far away from it, but I don’t listen.
I see it now.
A figure, a few inches taller than myself, hunched slightly, in my closet.
My breathing quickens, as well as my heartbeat, which is ringing in my ears. My mind flashes back to the time a man robbed my childhood home, severely injuring my brother in the same night.
His eyes flick to mine. They seem to glow in the darkness, like the numbers on my clock. I don’t know what to do. I want to move, I want to run very far away and escape the hypnotising glow. Instead, it moves. Slowly, while never taking its eyes off of me, it reaches for the closet door, and closes it gently.
I can now feel the lump in my throat, my fists clenching, the sweat rolling down my back. I’ve never been so scared in my life.
I don’t move for a very long time. Finally, after telling myself nothing bad will happen, I walk back to my bed, looking behind me the whole time, at my closet. Even as I adjust myself under the duvet, I don’t avert my gaze, until my vision blurs and my eyelids get heavy, and I am back asleep.

I wake to my cat meowing in the kitchen, begging to be fed.
Yawning, I get out of bed and look over to the closet. Closed. I feel relieved.
“Good morning,” I say to my cat. I fill his bowl with food and place a fresh bowl of water down as well, before returning to my room to lay down once more. It’s my day off, I intend to relax as much as I can, especially after last night… I want to calm my nerves. Perhaps I’ll visit the doctor, explain that I need some sleeping pills…

After a short nap, I wake at a quarter to 11. I walk to the bathroom to wash my face and brush my teeth, and as I stare into the mirror, I notice something different about my face, but no matter how long I look, I can’t put my finger on it.

I stay away from my closet. I know I’ll have to open its door again sometime, but it’s just not something I want to deal with right now. Instead, I grab clothes out of the dryer, brush my hair, and ruffle my cat’s fur before I leave.
I get to the Sainsbury’s and go about shopping. I keep getting weird looks from people. Becoming uneasy, I hurry to check out and leave. On the way home, I realise that I needed to visit the petrol station.
I go inside to pay, and the clerk looks inquisitively at me before asking, “Are those contact lenses or something?”
I’m used to this question, for my eyes are quite noticeable.
“Nar, my eyes are just this blue.”
He looks at me oddly before giving me my change.
What is wrong with everyone today?

I get home and put away the few things I bought. I can’t find my cat anywhere, so he must be asleep or something. I sit and watch the news, and before I know it, I wake up to static on the telly. It’s dark out now, I must have taken a rather long nap. I walk to my bathroom to wash up, and in the mirror, I see what everybody must have been staring at. My eyes, usually piercing blue, are white, and seem to glow. I rub them, but they remain that way. There’s no difference in my vision, only the colour. I know where I’ve seen these eyes before. The creature. The thing in my closet. I spin to face the doorway of my bedroom. I walk, not slowly, but with bravery, towards my closet door, and swing it open.
Nothing.
There’s nothing there.
Feeling a little delirious, I open and close it several times, and each time, nothing.
I leave it open before going to bed.

As predicted, I wake while it is still dark out. I look over to where my clock sits, and instead see my reflection. Confused, I stare at it. Then I realise - it’s not my reflection at all. The face is wrong. Too bony. Too dark. Like a shadow with glowing eyes. It moves over me. I’m paralysed. Only my eyes move, watching its every motion. It hardly makes a sound as it removes my duvet and slides a slender arm up my shirt. I can’t even scream. I feel strangely at peace, but I know I must be scared.
It traces its fingers along my chest while staring into me. It knows me so well. I can feel it in my head, in my thoughts.
It runs its finger down my belly, and I shiver, ever so slightly, and it quickly rises and is next to the open closet door almost immediately.

I stare at it.
It stares at me.

Finally, it moves into my closet.
Never taking its eyes off of me, closes the door, slowly, like last time.
The second it clicks, I blink.
I can’t see anything when my eyes reopen.
I’ve gone blind.
But it’s not black, as you’d assume.

It’s glowing white.