Cold. Sweaty palms.
Feeling of being watched from my closet, or my window, or the hallway, or all three. Silence. Heart pounding. Ringing in my ears.
I see nothing. Blackness.
I hear rustling, or is that just my imagination?
Hot. Sweaty.
Tickles on my neck and my arms and my legs and I try my hardest to make it stop.
But I  won’t throw off my blanket, my protection.
Eyes clenched shut. I still sneak peeks, expecting “it”, but dreading the thought.
“It” - the monster - the man - the child - the witch - the ghost - the animal - the monster.
I smell my own panic, adrenaline, terror.
I know I hear nothing, see nothing, but my mind takes over with the most horrifying images when I am afraid.
There I lay for hours, too terrified to reach for the light switch with my too short arm.
Terrorized, horrified, mortified, until I drift away to an unfriendly sleep in the dark,
and in the silence.