Everyone is scared of something. The dark, being alone in the woods, lost in a foreign country, and of course death. I fear the dark, I've always hated the dark as a kid mainly from the fact that I couldn't see. I would turn on the hall lights before I'd go into my room for a source of light. I'd sleep with a nightlight when I slept which kept me content. I believed in this fear until I was about 12 or 13 when I started to fear what was in the dark that I couldn't see rather than the dark itself. I hated being anywhere unfamiliar during the night especially when I was alone. My imagination would create bizarre images that would grab my attention. Some were handprints on my window that is several feet off the ground. Others were noises when home alone or when the house was quiet and my parents were asleep. But I was never scared of this only weary. I have dreamless nights often so I don't find much joy in sleep beside the comfort in rest. What I am scared of was the night I awoke to a pair of red eyes that stared at me from my closet. This continued for a while, only on Sunday nights and they only appeared in the closet. Until the night before my birthday. I had been too excited to wait for the next day so I decided to stay up and watch tv. As I leaned forward and lifted the blanket so I could get out of bed the eyes had appeared again but not from inside the closet but at the end of my bed. The eyes seemed to belong to a figure that towered over me which made me feel small something I hadn't felt in a long time. The eyes slowly moved to where I was on the bed. Every instinct told me to run but my brain said otherwise. I was truly terrified and scared for my life. A low growl protruded from the figure which made me move to the back corner of my bed. The figure was close enough for me to see its mouth. It had an odd smile as if it was genuinely happy. It leaned towards me with its long lanky body and with its now sharp noticeable teeth hissed "happy birthday Barry," before slowly retreating into the closet.