Short Story: Ghost story

For context, I originally wrote this piece for a Uni assignment almost 10 years ago. My dad passed away unexpectedly in December 2025, and today in August 2026, it's the first time I've read this story since graduation. I had to give it a bit of a polish edit, but it's the same story I wrote back then.

I would like to feature more creative writing and other subjects in this blog from people in the community, please reach out if you want to share anything either as an author or anonymously. I can work with you on the edit if needed.

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Don’t Be Afraid of the Dark

I haven’t slept in the dark in over a month. Do you know that feeling when you’re lying in bed, in the pitch black darkness and you feel as though someone or something is watching you? Lately, I’ve been having that same strange feeling almost all of the time, and not just when I’m alone in the dark, it’s anywhere and everywhere.

It started about a month ago, right after my dad left. All of a sudden I felt this presence after he disappeared and I didn’t know what it was. At first, I thought maybe something bad happened to my dad; that he didn’t just leave but maybe he died in an accident and his spirit was now watching over me - if you believe in that kind of thing. After a few days, I knew it couldn’t be him, not his spirit, because mother said he was very much alive and he had left us by choice, that we would probably never see him again. Then the presence didn’t feel comforting at all, it felt intrusive.

I used to only be able to sleep in absolute darkness, even the slightest shimmer would wake me up and I’d struggle to get back to sleep. Even as a child, I was never afraid of the dark, it actually felt calm and safe. I remember it would soothe me when I cried and would hide me when I didn’t want to be found - we were friends. But now it feels like a stranger, scary, greedy, dangerous. I am constantly seeking light to defend against whatever is in the dark watching me. There never was a monster under the bed for me growing up, and now as an almost-adult there’s a monster in every shadow. 

This thing, whatever or whoever it is, it doesn’t like the light - maybe it’s afraid, like I am of it. It’s not been easy, but for four weeks now I’ve managed to keep it away from me. Mum blew up about the electricity bill, shouted about remembering to turn off lights and laptops now that it’s only her income paying the bills. I felt so guilty, but I can’t tell her about the thing in the black spaces under the couch and between cabinets. 

I feel safest during the day, whether I’m alone or surrounded by people. However, it’s winter and the nights are much longer than the days, each day getting shorter and scarier. In the dark afternoons I stick to the well-lit streets with busy traffic - the headlights, tall amber cones and illuminated windows are a constant army against the shadows. Whatever it is that’s watching me, waiting for me, I can feel it getting stronger. I wonder if the ever extending nights are feeding it power, or if it’s the building frustration of me evading its grasp. I thought if I held out long enough it would give up and move on to someone else, but it hasn’t. I can feel it clawing at the edge of the footpath, can practically hear its cold breath exasperate as it realises I’m just out of reach. Being around friends isn’t a distraction either, somehow I’m more aware of the hidden eyes bearing into my skin, hoping I’ll forget it’s there. 

Now I sleep with my bedside light on, enough to surround me with a secure perimeter. I pass out eventually, but it’s not the longest or most restful of sleeps. I dream that the power goes out and the darkness suffocates me, then I wake up in a cold sweat to the sun rising through my open curtains and I can’t dive under the covers and go back to sleep because the thing in the dark can get me there. I can’t bring myself to change into pyjamas, release the dark from the closed drawers and reach in is just too much. Last night I laid on top of my duvet in jeans and t-shirt with a dressing gown over me for warmth. The lamp was on and my eyes turned red, sore, and dry as I stared into the black on guard. I don’t know what time it was, but my eyes eventually closed and rested. I glimpsed the creaking sound of my wardrobe door opening, forcing my eyelids to separate sharply and causing all sound to cease immediately. The wardrobe was still shut. I put on headphones and played music from my phone, vowing that if that didn’t get me to sleep then I’ll rest when daylight returns.

I fell asleep as morning broke and awoke with only a few hours of sunlight left behind a white sky. I feel strange. Not the same kind of strange that the thing in the dark makes me feel, but rather a stranger than the usual strange. It feels almost like normal, like the old normal before dad left. I can’t quite put my finger on it until I’m eating downstairs with my family and I realise I don’t feel the thing that lurks in the black spaces. It’s not watching me. Maybe I was right, I just needed to hold out a little longer and it got bored and moved on. Pleased to be rid of it for whatever the reason may be, I rejoice and go about my Saturday without any fear or feeling of being watched. It’s beyond refreshing, although nothing else is different except the absence of this feeling; Mum is still sad and Dad is still gone, but I feel lighter.

Even as the night starts its shift, I still don’t feel it around me. Finally, I can relax and get back to my life. I’m hanging out with friends in the city and they’ve noticed my cheerier mood. When my dad left, they would ask me to do stuff with them all the time - probably to try and distract me and cheer me up - but I always declined because someone had to be there for mum, the way they were trying to be there for me. After a couple weeks they stopped asking and that was okay with me because it meant I could stop feeling bad for turning them down. I couldn’t tell them about the thing in the dark either, they would’ve thought I was crazy. But tonight, for the first time in a long time, I laugh, I breathe, and I have fun. 

I’ve indulged and lost track of the time, but luckily I’ve made the last bus back home. The brightly lit vessel serves as a safe haven on the dark and dead roads. A block of artificial daylight encased around me, flowing through the black veins of the city to my quiet, suburban neighbourhood. I’m watching the buildings pass by, glowing from a pleasant time with my pals, and suddenly I’m taken off-guard as I start to feel it again. It’s chasing me over the rooftops and through the alleyways along the number six route - the thing that lurks in the black. It’s back. I can almost see its thick, liquid-like form weaving through the streets, following me. And all at once the fear within me is back as well.

I remember the city recently came out with an energy-saving initiative - they turn off all the streetlights for an hour, zone by zone, through the night. The zone where my house is, the lights go off at midnight. I check my phone and 23:37 shines back at me with an intensity I find mocking. I’m sweating. The darkness has me right where it wants me. I hope it’s a quiet night and the bus can get me to my stop before the lights turn out, if I run I might be able to make it to my front door in time. 

The bus stops at every stop - of course this is happening right now. Stranger and stranger creatures board the vessel and I defensively project my personal space across the entire two-seater bench I’m glued to the middle of - I already feel trapped enough. The roads are otherwise abandoned by any other drivers. We pass the closed corner shop that serves as my checkpoint to press the STOP button at 23:58. I shuffle nervously past the bus-load of misunderstood and drunk passengers, trying to avoid touching or being touched by any of them. The amber cones are still lit outside, but there’s not much else out there. Holding my balance, I surf the motion of the break and suspension of the vessel as the driver halts a little too hard at my stop. A familiar mechanical hydraulic sound accompanies the lowering of the floor and the doors lag open. 

My stomach rises into my throat and the fear of the presence in the dark rushes back to me, ironically, at the speed of light. It is the longest second of my life as I step off of the safe haven and onto the empty street. As my feet connect with the ground I’m plunged into darkness. Midnight. I quickly turn to reboard the bus, but the doors are already closed and the driver is signalling out of the stop. The number six fades away down the street and my heartbeat is loud in my ears. All of the hairs on my body stand on end as I am petrified of what is about to happen. It’s very cold. 

“Don’t be afraid.” I hear a whisper from all around me.

“Leave me alone, you can’t hurt me.” I regain control of my feet and start speed-walking home. This is it. It’s going to finally get me after all of this time because I was stupid enough to believe it could go away as easily as it did.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” Its voice is soft and echoes like a ghost, still speaking in a whisper. I try to ignore it, thinking of the first lightswitch I can reach once I get through the front door of my house. “I’ve been waiting for you.” My heart is pounding and I try to push through the cramp in my left calf. I’m keeping my head down but my breathing is starting to get erratic. 

“Go away!” An uneven path catches my toe and I fall forward, toward the ground. An odd sensation, much like a marshmallow or large water balloon breaks my fall and I roll gently onto a patch of grass. When I look up, I can see there is nothing but darkness there, I feel around for the object that cushioned me but again only air.

“I have been waiting for you for a long time.” I’m frozen on the ground and back up to a tree to cover my back. I focus and level my breathing, knees up to my chest, I can sense it in front of me. No, I can see it, and I can see through it. It’s darker than the rest of the world around me, smooth and changing like liquid suspended in zero gravity. 

“What do you want from me?” I am now aware of hot tears running down my cheeks, flowing from my blurry vision. 

“Why are you afraid?” The whispering voice is now coming from this thing in front of me instead of surrounding me. It doesn’t touch me, or sound malicious but I still don’t trust it.

“Please go away, just leave me alone.” I beg, hugging my knees closer.

“I cannot leave you. There is no light here, only me...and you.” It responds, still an eerie whisper, I don’t think it’ll change.

Please...” I plea.

“Why do you cry?” It asks, toying with me before it takes me, or whatever it plans to do.

“Because I’m afraid, I don’t want you to hurt me. Please don’t hurt me.” There is no point in trying to stay strong anymore, I am enveloped by the darkness and if I can’t muster the strength to get home then I am stuck here.

“Have I ever hurt you?” It asks; a strange question that grabs my attention. I wipe my nose on my coat sleeve and look at it.

“No, not physically, but I can feel you and sense that you want to hurt me.” I reply.

“Why would I want to hurt you? What have you done to deserve being hurt?” I am starting to get frustrated with its questions, I just want it to leave me alone or do what it is going to do and get it over with.

“You’re the one who’s been following me, watching me from the shadows, waiting for your opportunity to strike. So you tell me why I deserve to be hurt because I don’t have a clue.” I spit out.

“I see darkness within you, it calls to me. I have been waiting for you because you need me.” It says.

“What do you mean there is darkness within me? What could I, or anybody, possibly need from you?” I ask, starting to believe that I am not in danger. If it was going to hurt me, it would have by now, right?

“A friend.” I’m officially confused.

“I don’t understand.” I notice I am no longer sobbing, able to see slightly more clearly the ever-changing outline of this thing, I can’t name it.

“We used to be friends when you were a child. We would play together, you were not afraid of me then.” This was true, I was never afraid of the dark.

“I remember. I used to feel so safe in the dark.” I say.

“Why do you push me away now?” It asks.

“Because I don’t like the way you make me feel. When I look at you I feel fear, danger, and judgement.” I answer.

“Do you feel danger now?” It whispers back. I take a deep breath, look around and aim my gaze upward to the sky. The ceiling of my world is marked with shiny little stars, and I think of how long I have been sitting here in the dark, and the dangers that have befallen me, I realise that I only tripped because I was walking too quickly and couldn’t see where I was going. But no harm came from my fall, something stopped me. Nothing else had come to torture or hurt me in all this time I’ve been without light. It was actually kind of peaceful.

“Was it you? Did you soften my fall?” It sounds ridiculous as the words come out of my mouth, I’m talking to thin air, but I have to ask.

“Safe.” It confirms. I don’t know how to process this information. Was this some kind of invisible yet perfectly physical entity acting as a guardian angel; was it a spirit, or a God? 

“What are you?” I ask.

“A friend.” It simply replies. The fear is now replaced with questions and intrigue. I stand, using the tree to level my feet as I straighten my legs.

“You don’t want to hurt me?” I ask, just to be sure.

“Help you. You need me as much as you need light. Denying either one of us will bring you danger and insecurity. You must keep balance to keep safe.” It carries on when I remain quiet. “Do not be afraid of me, as you are not afraid of the light. Sometimes we need to have no vision in order to see ourselves more clearly.” I haven’t realised until it finishes speaking that I have continued to slowly walk home and the thing floats along beside me.

“What do you mean I have darkness inside of me?” I seek answers now that the questions feel stronger than the fear.

“You feel pain. Pushing me away turns pain into darkness, ignoring darkness makes it stronger.” I’m starting to think that my attempts to keep safe from the darkness have put me in a worse danger than I could have thought.

“Does that mean I am dangerous?” I ask, worried.

“Not dangerous, in danger.” The fear starts to come back. Should I be afraid, not of the darkness outside and around me, but of the darkness that is within me?

“Can I fix it?” I continue my line of questioning.

“Yes, with me. Let me take your darkness by remembering how to play with me. We were friends once, you must trust me again.” It answers.

I’m home, it stays by the door. I turn my key, open the door and reach for the light switch. As I walk through the threshold, my body half in the darkness and half in the light, I stop to look back at the thing. It’s still there but it’s smaller now, friendlier. I turn off the light, letting the darkness refill the room through the open door. Tonight, I will sleep in the dark.

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Thank you, I hope you enjoyed reading this piece. If you have any thoughts or feelings please leave a comment below.

K, love you, bye!

Verena