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Well about from age three through ten years old, there's a chance that a kid is scared of the dark, am I right? Ever heard of a child fourteen and up being scared of the dark?

You know how a little kid--say about two, three years old--always complains about seeing things at night and the parent usually says; "There's nothing to be afraid of. It's just your imagination."?

How about a fourteen year old complaining....maybe they have a right---they're not a kid. My point is it happened to me before and I ending up not sleeping for a few months. But, the thing is....I never told anyone the problem.

My Parents died when I was three years old. It happened the night after Halloween. I was walking in my parents room and because I was scared of the dark.

As I got closer to the bed, I noticed the floor was wet. I stepped back and ran over to the light, expecting to see a water stain, or juice, or something. Then I saw it. I ran as fast as I could to the front door, but it was too late. It was there, in front of me. My parents' killer. I didn't know what to do.

Screaming for help, I ran to the back door, hoping, just hoping my life wasn't going to end. I got to the kitchen, the killer right at my heels, and saw my dad standing there, looking down at me.

"Daddy," I cried.

I looked up to him, expecting to hear comforting words about my nightmare--what else could it be, really--but then went stock still when he looked down at me.

No Eyes. He was standing there with no fingers waving at me screaming in a high pitch noise, "Everything will be fine."

Backing up from this, this... thing, I slipped on some blood----my mother's. It led a trail to her room. No, it—it got my mother! I turned around and ran up the stairs, determined to save her. I slipped on a patch of red and my temple slammed into the carpeted stair. That's all I remembered.

The Police and the ambulances ended up at the house. When I woke up I was... on my bed? But How? I looked around, and my eyes fell on a knife? I started screaming when I saw all the blood, fingers, and eyes all over my bed. The door slammed to the ground, and people in blue uniforms arrived, shiny black guns drawn and pointed around my room.

They saw me, and every one of them dropped their guns. A conversation started up between them. It was something about me, I was sure of that, but I couldn't quite hear what they were saying. Then one of them bent down so he was looking at me straight in the eyes, and put a hand on my shoulder.

"Everything will be fine." the police man told me.

The words sounded so familiar, and I jumped off the bed, away from the fingers and eyes. "What time is it?" I asked the police.

The police gave me a look, like he couldn't believe I was asking the time, but he still answered. " It's eight." He said promptly, not even looking down at his watch.

Then I looked outside, and saw the dark sky and a bright full moon. It was night. When I looked back at the police man, nothing was there.

No Blood.

No Fingers.

No parents.

Nothing.