The Dark

It was 11:33 p.m. when twenty-two year old Alisa Biddle's heart skipped a beat as a loud clap of thunder announced the beginning of the storm.

Immediately she began to reassure herself (as she had when she was younger) that it was only thunder and it couldn't hurt her. Then why was she so scared? Because she was alone.

She wouldn't be alone if she hadn't taken the cats to the vet that day. Like a fool, she had agreed to have Tweedledee & Tweedledum kept overnight “to rest after their neutering operations.” She sighed. But who was she to know it would storm? She was no meteorologist! And not having a TV didn't help her situation any. “Damn being broke!” she exclaimed & giggled. Nervously.

She could just hear God thinking: “Hey! She's alone! And scared! Let us pray! Let us, have us. . .a good ol’ thunderin’ ‘n’ lightnin’ storm!” She always thought that way, she mused, absentmindedly chewing on a hang nail. She had learned early on in life that God was not on her side. Silently she hoped and prayed that He would not find it in His power to cut the power. If there was one thing that scared her more than the storms, it was The Dark.

The electricity in the air had her feeling, well, electrified. She took what she hoped to be a relaxing bath, trying to calm down. Readying herself for bed, she mistakenly grabbed a long, flannel nightgown. It was late May; no need for flannel. But she couldn't bring herself to put it back in the drawer. The flannel did look oh so warm and comforting and more inviting than the peignoir she would've chosen. She would need something warm and comfy cozy to get through this stormy night. Alone.

Pulling the gown over her head, she glanced at the clock: 12:05 a.m. She was momentarily blinded as the gown passed over her face. But even when her eyes were uncovered, she was still blind; her eyes focused on blackness. Then it struck her: the power had died!

Immediately the feeling of claustrophobia swept over her. She couldn't see. She couldn't breathe! She started to panic but caught herself before mass hysteria took over. “Oh God why did I leave Dee & Dum at the vet?!” Not only would it cost her an extra fifty bucks, but also a night of sheer terror…all alone.

Alisa slowly groped her way down the stairs and into the living room. Her phone was…shit. Still upstairs. Way back in the Master bedroom. In the bathroom. On the charger. Shit again. Candles. Where, oh where are the candles? For a person so scared of the dark, she sure wasn't prepared. The only candle she could find was a short stub of what was once a jolly, fat Santa Claus. At least there were matches in the drawer with it.

The candle did very little to illuminate the room. Lightning overpowered it easily. Maybe if she jumped in bed and quickly pulled the covers up snugly over her head. . . Why on earth did she live in this two-story house all alone??

She inherited it when she turned eighteen. Someone should've sold it after her parents’ deaths, twelve years ago. Especially due to the fact that they had been murdered here. She had not thought about that for a long time now. She had done everything possible to push it out of her mind. But now all the memories came rushing back.

The motive, or murderer for that matter, had never been found.

Alisa had been away at boarding school at the time and when she had returned, extreme precautions had been taken to make sure she was protected. The murderer may have wanted her too and he could return. “What a great thing to be thinking about right now! Murder!” Alisa exclaimed in an odd shrill voice that rather shocked her. But her imagination was beginning to take over and run the show. What if the murderer was planning to return for her some day? What if he planned to return tonight?? “That's stupid! I'm sure if they had wanted me dead, they would have already done it!” she tried to rationalize but it was NOT working. As the first pieces of golf-ball sized hail began to strike the large, now-black bay window, Alisa let out a shriek and jumped. The soon-following explosive cracks of thunder and lightning that filled the air and the windows just about brought Alisa to her knees. “Calm down and quit thinking of murder! This is RIDICULOUS!” Alisa cried aloud. To no one?

But of course now she could not push irrational, intruder-type thoughts from her racing mind. She found herself trying in vain to think of nice things, like they (who ever THEY are) tell you to do when you are very young and you can't fall asleep because you're afraid of The Dark. Even that damn song didn't work. Bright copper kettles became instruments of blunt force. Warm woolen mitten-clad hands circled and squeezed themselves around necks. Pretty soon Alisa was conjuring ghosts in corners, vampires on the ceiling, zombies posing as furniture. “Stop it! Stop it!” she screamed. It did not work.

Then her single, solitary candle died out. Alone, in The Dark.

The lightning flashed brighter and quicker. The thunder grew ominously louder. Alisa was suddenly not alone. In fact every single scary villain was appearing in that room with her. Frankenstein was on her right, concealed behind the floor-to-ceiling drapes. Any second now the bookcase could swing open revealing Freddy Krueger and his treacherous bladed fingers. Even though it was not Friday the 13th, Jason Voorhees could come crashing through the bay window behind her, speargun in hand.

Paranoia vengefully struck Alisa. She began to whirl around, looking for all things that go bump in the night, her nightgown spinning crazily, dangerously, around her feet. Out of her mind with fear, Alisa was sure her parent's murderer was back for her. But he wasn't about to get her!

She ran into the kitchen and grabbed a long, sharp-edged carving knife. Although already over the edge, somehow Alisa knew better than to run with the knife. She walked somewhat calmly back into the living room. To face her murderer.

Alisa Biddle's body was wheeled into the hospital at 10:44 a.m., about twelve hours after what was one of New York's worst storms in years. Her cause of death had been determined to be heart failure. The doctor and coroner were baffled. She had been a young and vibrant, healthy girl. She had many, many years yet to live. How could her heart have failed her?

Even more baffled than the medical examiners were the police. They had arrived at Miss Biddle's house ten minutes after the maid placed the frantic 911 call. Alisa's body was found in the living room, slumped over a very large couch pillow. Near her hand was a large knife. Hers were the only prints on it. Strangest of all, the pillow under her body seemed to have lost most of its stuffing. What would make Miss Biddle attack a beautiful harmless couch pillow? The answer did not come until later, when the maid was interviewed.

She had worked for the Biddle family for over twenty-five years and had stayed on with Alisa after the gruesome murder of her parents. “Surely, you are aware of the precautions taken when Alisa came home from school to make sure the murderer could not return for her. Last night the power went out and the only candle found had burnt out. Both of her cats were at the veterinarian, leaving Alisa completely alone.

“As she grew, Alisa had all sorts of questions about how her parents were killed, which in turn led to many a nightmare. On mornings after such nightmares, dismantled stuffed animals were found in her bed.

“Something must have snapped in her mind last night, while she was alone in the dark, and brought the murder of her parents out of her nightmares and into her home. Most likely crazy with fear, she attacked the couch pillow, seeing it as the murderer.

“As for the heart failure, I can easily understand why. Gentleman, Alisa has always been deathly afraid of The Dark.”