Unsettling Desires Old House 2

Unsettling Desires Old House 2

At the time, that particular event seemed insignificant to me, and I didn't give it much thought. The nights were peaceful, and I enjoyed ample sleep. However, my friend had a different experience. During his overnight stays, he consistently complained about strange sounds emanating from the walls. He described it as if something were moving inside them. Strangely, I never heard these sounds, even when he woke me up in the middle of the night over them.
The notion of mysterious sounds within the walls unsettled me, despite my lack of firsthand experience. I had learned that the house harbored concealed doors and hidden spaces, but I deliberately chose not to explore them. I preferred to remain in what I considered normal, avoiding any knowledge of these enigmatic areas. It was a form of self-protection, akin to the way adults often employ denial. I simply refused to accept that anything could be awry, embracing the notion that ignorance is bliss.
However, one Easter night shattered my sense of calm. I found myself awake a bit later than usual, somewhere between nine and ten. Although it might not seem late, my parents insisted on enforcing early bedtimes during my childhood. From the doorway of my room, my mother scolded, "I will not tell you again, go to bed. Do you want the Easter Bunny to come or not?" I quickly assured her, "Yes, Mama, I'm just changing now."
I settled into bed with the comforting glow of the TV. My routine involved staring at the screen until sleep claimed me, usually within an hour. On this particular night, I fixated on Disney cartoons until I gradually drifted into slumber. Little did I know, it marked the last time I would easily succumb to sleep for a considerable period.
I awoke to a cacophony of loud noises emanating from the kitchen – drawers opening and closing, the rustle of tableware, and the rapid shutting of cupboards. I lay still, listening intently, realizing the sounds were remarkably close to me. My room's peculiar placement allowed a direct line of hearing into the kitchen through the doorway. At the tender age of eight, I naively believed the Easter Bunny was busily hiding eggs in the kitchen.
The catalyst for me leaving the comfort of my bed was a pressing need to use the bathroom. In a drowsy state, I shuffled out of bed and toward the bathroom. However, the moment I stepped into the kitchen, a resounding thud echoed through the room. I halted, momentarily concerned about upsetting the supposed Easter Bunny. To my dismay, the presence in the kitchen was not the friendly, imaginary character of childhood lore. What awaited me was far from anything remotely resembling the whimsical figure I had envisioned.
As I gazed into the dimly lit room, a dark figure caught my attention. Initially, one might mistake it for a mere shadow, but that description falls short. Shadows result from breaks in light, adhering to surfaces. This entity, however, was a pitch-black silhouette, crouched like a predator in the open space. Despite the unsettling sight, my fear wasn't as pronounced as it should have been. Still half-asleep, I struggled to fully comprehend the situation, standing there in a half-dreaming state. The entity, in response, maintained its crouched position in the shadows, fixated on me. Nestled in the darkest corner of the room, it paradoxically stood out by virtue of its even deeper darkness.
Reflecting on that night, I find it hard to believe my own actions.

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