Timothy Verde was not afraid. That’s what he kept telling himself. But huddled up, they seemed like empty words. He shuddered as he heard the Voice. “Yooooour a bad boy, Timmy!” Then he heard the mad cackling.
It had started out simple enough…

Timmy was eight years old. He was a four foot five, dark haired boy. He had an average room, with a bed, a TV, a closet, and a few toys. Nothing really special. The only thing Timmy didn’t like about his room was where his bed sat. It was settled about four feet away from the bed, enough room for the door to open. As he soon found out, his dislike was well founded.

One night, Timmy heard, or imagined he heard, a rustling in his closet. As any boy would be, he was frightened, or at least a little bit. But he was eight years old now, too old to be scared by imaginary monsters.

Soon, however, it became much more than that. One night, he heard the Voice for the first time. He was sleeping, and suddenly woke up. Then he heard it. “Timmy,” it whispered, “Timmy.” Now Timmy was really frightened. But things only got worse.

It became more than a whisper. It would call out to him. It sounded like it was right next to him, yet he saw nothing. “Timmy, don’t be frightened.” It would say, and after that it would cackle. Timmy would always close his eyes, cover himself with the blanket, and stuff the pillow into his ear, always hoping it would stop the Voice and the nagging fear within him. But it would only cackle louder. The Voice was a persistent enemy. But then the more dangerous enemy came. The Dark Man.

One night, Timmy just couldn’t sleep. He was terrified by the Voice, and the presence of evil he felt after hearing it. Not to mention the nightmares. After staying wide awake for hours, he finally dozed off. Then it came. “Are you afrrrrraid Timmy?” Timmy woke up with a start and there it was, two inches from his face. The dark gleaming eyes and the large grin. The Dark Man. Nearly wetting himself, Timmy knew there was no other option. “MOM!”


The Dark Man cackled and disappeared.

Timmy’s mom came, but didn’t find anything. Timmy was scared, but listening to his mom reassure him made him feel better. She looked in his closet one more time. When she saw there was nothing she told him it was a bad dream and to go back to sleep.

For a time, the Dark Man left Timmy alone. Timmy didn’t hear any voices, and began to imagine that it was all a dream. But one day, it came back. At first, it was only the Voice. “Timmy.” It would say it over and over again. But Timmy was ready. His comeback would always be “Go away.” Then, It came back.
The Dark Man came back.

The Dark Man came one night, but Timmy Verde was not afraid. The Dark Man grinned as soon as he saw Timmy. “I’m proud of you Timmy. You’re not afraid anymore.” Out of nowhere a stool appeared, and it sat down. “I need to talk to you.” he said. He appeared to have genuine concern. “Your daddy comes home, walking and smelling funny.” Then he stopped. “Timmy, do you hate your dad?” This surprised Timmy. “If I were you, I would hate him. Especially since he comes home smelly, and then hits your mom, then hits you. Hits you until you’re in the corner bleeding and crying like a baby. Timmy was horrified. The Dark Man smiled. It was not his usual grin. It was an evil grin. “Follow me.”

Timmy followed the Dark Man into his dad’s room. They stood there a moment, watching his dad sleep. Mom had left after dad came home. He was still smelly. The Dark Man turned and faced Timmy, with a smile on his face. In his open palm was a knife.

Timmy gasped in horror, and the Dark Man laughed. He looked into Timmy’s eyes, and then it happened. All of the memories, the images, the horrors Timmy tried to forget. They flashed through his mind, all of the times his father came home drunk, then beat his mother and Timmy, and his mother comforting him afterword. Suddenly the knife was on Timmy’s hand and Timmy stabbed. He stabbed and stabbed and stabbed. He stabbed until he snuffed the last of his father’s life away.


The Dark Man cackled…

As Timmy was curled up, waiting for the nightmare to end, it happened. His sanity slipped through his fingers like his father’s blood. His mind was lost. The Dark Man had won.

Timmy’s mom walked into the door and closed it. The house was dark. She walked up the stairs and went into her room, expecting her husband to be sleeping soundly. She was lucky he wasn’t really drunk. When she walked into her bedroom and saw the carnage. She gasped in horror and turned around to go to Timmy’s room to see if he was alright. Then she saw Timmy. His eyes were sunken in like he had little sleep. He had blood all over himself, and he looked pale. But he had a look in his eye that would make a demon afraid. He ran up to her and stabbed her until she was almost dead. She fell on the floor and her last memory was the writing on the wall in blood.

The Dark Man.