It’s harder to be brave in the dark

(From my religious days)

It’s the anticipation that’s the worst. The complete lack of movement or bumps in the night. The darkness that gives you no sounds.
No sights.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Just nothing.
.
.
.
.
.
.
And in this emptiness your imagination fills the void with everything that words can’t describe. All of the things that are a little less terrifying when you can put a name to them…

Nameless. They surround you.
Eyeless. They watch.

The darkness is a thick inky oil that suffocates you.
You would pray, but you’re afraid of attracting the attention of the things that would rather you didn’t (pray).

“This little light of mine. I’m gonna let it shine.”
(You dare tempt ‘them’ with this mock bravery?)
“As I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil.”
(You really want to get into this? You really want to channel the divine into the infernal? Are you actually prepared for what you’re about to take on here you insignificant little vessel?
You?)

Switch on the light coward.
It’s harder to be brave in the dark.

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