Afraid of The Dark

Darkness consumed the light from the torches. Infinity seemed like an understatement for the
dark passageway. Hollow, oblique and charred. The house seemed exposed as its layers
continued to age with the memories from the past. My head was numb from waltzing to
understand the apparent ever-changing surrounding in this cold, dark desert-like night.

Which direction the exit from this melancholic masterpiece of a house was priceless
information, that I unfortunately had bargained away when I took the first few steps into the
beguiling scenery, following the scent of rosemary and honey pickle. “What could possibly
go wrong,” they had reasoned, “perhaps you may meet an old grandma but that could be all,
right?”. Now every part of me wanted to believe that the words that were left by my mates
were true and there was a harmless old grandmother somewhere in the undesirable darkness.
I was utterly disgruntled by this house that fooled me with its somewhat simple and sweet
façade.

That notion of an old grandmother living here was a juxtaposition when it became obvious
that the house was as lonely as it was senile, which seemed ordinary from the musky smell of
oldness. Finally, the passage wished goodbye, but my hair slowly rose up and my legs went
numb, as my physical body seemed to dread the ominous that clearly wafted from the frame
hanging on the wall.

“Checkmate!” my companion buzzed. A cheer went around my close associates. I could

recall the details, I had unwittingly gambled my way into a chess game, where the risks from
losing were walking through an abandoned house for an hour at midnight. The idea of ghosts
in this house on Rosemary Street 76 was heavily inspired by the folklore of how many had
turned to ashes in this house most likely from an Egyptian Curse. I had believed it was utter
nonsense, but now, standing in front of that joker card, I felt afraid like a nine-year-old being
scared by the dark. However, even if my past version was stubborn, I dared to believe that
supernatural things were present in this house.

It was a single card of the Joker and had a single number written on it, 1202. That was when
it hit me, I was douched in cold fear. It was not a random number; I assumed It was a time.
12:01, exactly one minute after midnight. I took a wild guess that I had to leave now. The
ticks were already pointing at 11:57p.m. So, I clambered up the steps and the floorboards
creaked under my weight, but I had to be in a pristine hurry. I stopped at a room labelled with
a sign that read 1202. My blood ran like ice.

My heart momentarily forgot how to beat, and I was scared. I looked around, the time was
precisely 11:58 and there were three minutes to 1202. I gulped down my hesitation and
walked through the door into the room. There was a lot of furniture adorning the coveted
room and there it was, the joker card again. The time was exactly 12:00 now, I had accurately
two minutes. I instinctively ran for the window. I jumped through the pane; it was a leap of
faith to say the least. I rolled onto my back, feeling a sense of false victory. I realized I was
still in the house and had only landed in green grass. I jumped over the fence near and
managed to fall acrobatically on the cement of the road. I survived the night.

Through the cracked display of my watch, I could see that the time was precisely 2minutes
from midnight. I had just made it in the nick of time. I felt new and fresh as if I had finally
achieved something.
When I got back home, I told my friends everything including some new data. Apparently, all
the previous owners of the house had died at 11:58, 11:59, 12:00, and the last one at
12:01. “Yes, sure Bryan!” came a sarcastic comment. Another of my comrades said, “Highly
Likely!”. I felt my cheeks turn red because of the comments, I really should not have
expected them to believe me.

“Well, I guess, believe as you please then.” I grunted.

As for me, I definitely did not consider this an enchanting fairytale of any sorts or an
unreasonable coincidence. I saw what had had happened, my time to die had come at 12:02
but I managed to jump one foot out and avoid death.

Whenever I pass the house now, I feel a proud sense of entitlement, knowing that my act of
bravado saved me from possible death.

“12:02, well if I am not haunted by that number, I cannot be alive”, I chuckled to myself.
After this incident, I came to face with the truth of life; penalty, death and justice were all tied
in a tightly drawn string. I was no longer afraid of the dark.

I was victorious, even from death. Mortality was not my Forte.