It Lives At The Bottom Of My Stairs

I stand at the top of my stairs, socked toes curling into the carpet as one hand squeezes the door handle and the other hovers over the light switch , trying to decide if it is safe to turn the lights out . it is nearly seven at  night, i have about an hour before sundown , but it is just dim enough in the stairwell to make me doubit if that really matters . I stare down at the welcome mat, and though i see nothing , I know the thing that lives at the bottom of my stairs is watching me , too . I know it is gauzy white eyes never blink , and that it is teeth , thin and too long for it is mouth , extending far past it is leathery lips can not smile but i feel as if it is grinning at me . I know it is gaunt . lanky limbs are curled and crouches around it is small body , waiting to lunge the second the light is out  

I know it is not real if it was real i would be able to see it . but even as i remind myself of this , I leave the light on

You see , I made him up, The creature that lives at the bottom of my stairs . i have always had an active imagination . Many children create monsters or imaginary friends with rules: a man who runs beside the car but can only run in the shadow of the vehicle. A ghost who befriends you , but is invisible to anyone older than you . A monster who waits at the bottom of your stairs , but can not move until the lights are out 

I am not sure why i never stopped doing this. I am approaching my mid twenties , and most children stopped around ten . Or at least they stopped talking about it . I try to keep my concems to myself , though i have had to explain myself a time or two as to why i have to be the one who closes the door . I am the only one who knows what he is doing . because i created him 

The worst part is i know that he only exists because i think he does . There have been weeks or months where i can go up stairs to my apartment and not feel his eyes on my back, his claw like fingers waiting to rip into me . All it takes is a stray thought, and he is there again 

There have been times where i was too slow to close my door after i turned the light out. Nothing happens right away , though Iknow he is in my apartment with me . there is always a chill in my spine and a cold stone  in my stomach when he gets past my door , but it is not like he drags me down the stairs or anything .For some reason , though i know he is capable of killing me , he does not 

Even when i succeed , sometimes there is this dull thudding noise that stars at (2 a.m) and continues until sunrise . Like he is slamming his dry , callus , too big hands against the door . demanding i open it and let him in. 

This has been the hardest part about accepting he  is not real , because i have had guest ask me about the noise . i never know what to tell them 

Though on the nights he gets in , I can feel him watching me from the doorway to my room , which unfortunately shares a wall with that stairwell . he sits in the same spot all night , breath wheezing out his squished, bat-like nose , body twitching and contorting as he runs his clawed fingers over his face in anticipation . though I will never claimed to have actually seen him , i will say i feel as if a trick  of the light or a stray shadow have sometimes looked as if the were trying to reveal him to me 

My biggest worry is I think he is getting closer with each time I fail . He started right outside my doorway, but he was a mara three feet from me the last time i can not really tell, because he is not real and because i can not see him , but i think he is getting more worked up . I do not know what he is so excited about, but i can guess it will happen when he has made his way to sit at the foot of my bed 

I think he is getting faster. I have been failing more often than not kep him out . It won`t be long now before he reaches his goal what ever that goal is . May be it`s to torment me , and feed off my fear of what he `ll do next. If that`s goal , he`s succeeding

It`s killing me . I can`t sleep knowing he`s there . I know he`s never attack me in the past but i`m always scared that tonight will be the night he decides that enough is enough and goes for it. My lack of sleep is hurting my job . My paranoia is ruining my relationships . All i do is sit at home and hide away from the creature 

i don`t know how to stop 

I`m sick of it . 

So tonight . I`m not going to hid . Tonight , I`m leaving the door the stairwell open when i turn off the light . i`m turning off all the lights in my shifty apartment and i`m going to sit on my bed in the dark . Tonight when his twisted body lungs and lurches its way into my room i`m not going to pretend i don`t see him . I`m not going to pretend that just because i made him up that means he`s not real . I`m going to looking him in those disgusting cloudy eyes and accept my fate. I`m tired of waiting