Okay, so confession time.
This is a first for me and I’m not quite sure where to start, so I think I’ll just blurt it out and we’ll go from there.
I am afraid of the dark.
Yes, I am 22 years old and no, the Christmas lights hanging in my room at night aren’t because I’m a hardcore Christmas-fanatic–it’s because I’m a hardcore I-don’t-want-to-die-from-the-monsters-under-my-bed fanatic.
I’m not entirely sure where this fear stems from. Maybe I watched too many scary movies when I was a kid. I do remember a scene from “The Grudge” that left me frozen on my friend’s bed for a good half-hour before her older sister picked me up and carried me down the stairs.
But no, I don’t believe it’s because I watched too many scary movies. I honestly believe it’s because I’m a writer.
As a writer, I’ve written many short stories, most being suspenseful or somewhat scary and you know why? Because the scenes just pop into my head at the least expected times and lucky for me, I see them in great detail.
I see a shadow behind a tree and I’m writing about a hunter stalking prey.
I hear a bump in the night and it’s a ghost that never left its residency.
I was the kid who felt those peeled grapes in the Halloween boxes at school and honestly visualized human eyeballs.
My imagination is the best part of me and the worst part of me. Yes, I may still sleep with the lights on but at least now I get a good night’s sleep.
Just kidding–I am still in college after all.
For more embarrassing confessions from Torch staff members, click here.