The Sightless

The Sightless
by Melchior

A mother kisses her daughter and gently tucks her into bed. "I love you," she says as she turns off the light. The last beam of warm light is cut off as she closes the door behind her. As darkness settles in the room, the child closes her eyes to shut it out. Her breathing shallows and she slowly slips into a fitful dream.
A soft noise wakens her, like a pained sigh coming from behind her closet door which stands ajar across the room. Peeking out from beneath her thin covers, the child sees nothing but her door, swaying slightly as if a light breeze had touched it. It's after she closes her eyes again that she hears it, the shuffling of bare feet which slip as though they are wet. The closet door is open and she peers into the darkness, seeing nothing at all but the black of blindness.
A movement next to her bed catches her eye and she whirls around. She can make out a human shape, pale and strung with sinewy flesh. She gasps and, as though it had been waiting for a sound, the shape twists its head towards her; its eyes are covered by damp cloth, but its hungry mouth appears to grin as it moves towards her. Wounds cover the creatures flesh, dripping dark blood as though they were freshly cut. And it raises a bandaged arm towards her, claws blacker than the night point towards her eyes. She screams.

Beware the dark.