The Evil Within

“Come little girl, to where dreams are made. Hush little girl, don’t be afraid.”

Where was that beautiful voice coming from, she thought to herself. It was so dark, black as the night sky on a new moon, and the little girl found herself incapable of locating anything. All there was in the abyss was that soft, soothing, and angelic voice. It was so familiar, yet, so otherworldly. Who was singing? Why was she singing? What a lovely tune it was. The young girl uncontrollably closed her eyes as the voice returned, surrounding her, hypnotizing her, replacing every doubt and fear in her system with warmth. How powerful. How beautiful.

As soon as it came, the voice disappeared once again. Why did she stop? Her song was so perfect. The little girl opened her eyes widely, greeted, once again, by the dark nothingness she had found herself in. Left and right she looked, trying her hardest to find her companion. The bearer of the lovely voice she found herself suddenly needing to hear. Where was she? Why was she hiding? Please, sing one more time. But no song returned, and no woman showed herself. It was just her, the small girl, and the darkness that was slowly beginning to consume her. She felt so light—like a feather in the wind.

Why? What’s going on? She held in her scream. The ground—or what she once assumed was ground—beneath her was beginning to pull her in. It was nothing like the undertows of the ocean, nor was it like the slow tugging of quick sand. Rather than sinking, the little girl felt as if she was slowly vanishing. In her mind, it registered that perhaps she was beginning to merge with the void that had summoned her. That she was becoming one with the darkness that was slowly consuming her. The beating of her heart hastened. Help, please, anyone!

Her legs were gone, and her torso was slowly following in its footsteps. Fingertips began to fade, and the warmth that had surrounded her from the song earlier was quickly being replaced by a numbness that made her feel frozen within a chunk of ice. No, no, no! I don’t want to die. Not yet, not now. Please. Again she shut her eyes tightly. The darkness had just reached her chest, and the little girl refused to witness anymore. The numbness was beginning to settle in and swallow her whole—but then it stopped. Just like that, it began to feel less suffocating.

She was terrified to open her eyes. Afraid that it would start again, that the void was merely tricking her into believing she was safe. What would happen, the little girl wondered. Would she check for safety and find a malicious entity staring at her with a wide smile before consuming her? Was it just waiting for her to open her eyes—to witness the loss of herself in its clod abyss of numbness? Her eyelids remained tightly shut, refusing to be tricked.

And then she heard the faint, almost non-existent, sound of a girly giggle.

Orbs were forced open by shock, and again the little girl had to stop herself from screaming. What once was solid ground was now water—with waves rippling against its once smooth surface. A floating head atop a disembodied neck greeted the little girl with a warm smile. How…? It was impossible after all. It was her face—her head, but this ‘reflection’ was smiling, giggling. The only thing off about the entire mirrored image, were the tears that were steadily streaming down the doppelgänger’s cheeks. The giggling only stopped when familiar orbs met with the exact same pair.

Numbness began to recede, and she watched as the floating head began to grow a body. It started with the shoulder blades, slowly making its way down to the torso, arms, and legs. The little girl didn’t check her own, real, body, but she knew that it was probably happening to her as well—her own faded form once again returning to her. When the shivering from the cold had completely gone, the reflection lifted her new hand to wipe away the tears. The real little girl did not move a muscle. She just continued to watch.

The doppelgänger giggled once again upon touching the salty droplets on her face. She seemed to be enjoying herself as she wiped them away, laughing almost uncontrollably by the time the last proof of wetness had been brushed clean off of her face. Then, the reflection looked back up at the little girl. The smile—or smirk as it was beginning to change into—was plastered on her pale face, suddenly shooting a pang of panic in her gut. The mirror image began to sing.

“Come little girl, to where dreams are made. Hush little girl, don’t be afraid.”

Then the reflection burst out into fits of chuckles once more, laughing hysterically as the panic and fear settled within the little girl’s stomach. Rather than warmth, the song had filled her with nothing but dread—hopelessness.

It was then, after watching the reflection continue to laugh, that the little girl released her ear-piercing scream.


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