I’m lying in my bed, like I am every night. I’m counting the dots on the ceiling. There are fifteen of them. I know, because I count them every night before I fall asleep. Thirteen clear black spots, one dark gray smudge and one tiny pink-ish dot far of to one corner. You have to really look to see it. But I know it’s there, because I count it last every night. The pink dot. My best… no; my only friend at this point. Every time I see it I know I am still awake, and not yet drifted off into the darkness. It is the only thing that tells me I am not sleeping. I count the dots slowly. Thirteen, fourteen and fifteen. Exactly fifteen dots. As always. I look over at the nightlight for a second. Then back to the ceiling. Counting the dots once more. Twelve, thirteen, fourteen… Fourteen? I desperately search the entire room to find the last dot, but I know it is futile. It won’t be there. And sure enough, before long the banging on the window starts. I try to hide under my blanket, but it sounds like the window will soon be smashed. Then the sound stops. Total silence. I know he is already in the room now. I tumble out of bed and scurry for the door and pull it open. But it’s already too late. He is standing outside the door. His large grin, never fading. His huge glaring, black eyes, like dead holes in his giant face. His pale wrinkled skin. Gray like dust. His ragged clothes, like clown’s garments, but ripped and torn and dirty. And the smell. The smell of death and fear and pain and hate all at once. I want to slam the door in his face, but there is no door. We are in a big open room. Nowhere to hide. I turn away and start running away. After a few steps I stop, dead in my tracks, as he is in front of me again, towering scarier than before, the faint light glinting in his eyes. I scream and open my eyes, back in my bed. It is quiet. I look up. Dots. Thirteen, fourteen… please, just one more. I start to panic. No, no, no. please, just one little dot in the corner. But no.
And sure enough, before long the banging on the window starts again. I try to hide under my blanket, but it sounds like the window will soon be smashed. Then the sound stops. Total silence. I know he is already in the room now. I tumble out of bed and scurry for the door and pull it open. Even though I know it’s already too late. He is standing outside the door. His large grin, never fading. His huge glaring, black eyes, like dead holes in his giant face. His pale wrinkled skin. Gray like dust. His ragged clothes, like clown’s garments, but ripped and torn and dirty. And the smell. The smell of death and fear and pain and hate all at once. I want to slam the door in his face, but there is no door. We are in a big open room. Nowhere to hide. I turn away and start running away. After a few steps I stop, dead in my tracks, as he is in front of me again, towering scarier than before, the faint light glinting in his eyes. I scream and open my eyes, back in my bed. I am drenched in sweat by now. I look at the ceiling. Dots. Thirteen, fourteen… Fifteen! Yes, finally I can breathe easy again. At least for a while. I consider getting up to get a glass of water. I know it will all start again soon enough. Just a few more times and then the sun will come up, and I can relax. I decide to get the water and start to pull my blanket away. Then I hear someone banging on the window.