I can't remember exactly when it started, but my disdain towards falling asleep seemed to correspond with my sister passing away in her sleep and family moving from the city to an old run down farmhouse.
I was eleven years old at the time and until then I had shared a room, quite happily, with my older sister.
My sister was seventeen, an intelligent senior when it happened, when she passed away.
She had been battling issues her whole life. My sister was born with lung issues and eventually passed away due to her asthma. So as a precaution my family moved us to the country to get fresh air.
I remember when I first saw my new room. It was a small, narrow, yet oddly elongated room.
It had an old open furnace at one end, which had been left in even though it was useless for it no longer worked. The grey lifeless bricks stood in place behind the furnace.
There was enough room right next to the window in the middle of the room, it was a space large enough for a bed and a couple of chest of drawers, but not much else.
I couldn’t really complain though because, even at that age, I understood what the situation we were in was and I had no real cause to be disappointed.
As my family was mostly loving and caring. It was a happy childhood, during the day.
The solitary window in my room looked out onto my mothers garden, nothing out of the ordinary, but even during the day, the light which crept into that room seemed almost hesitantly cold.
While I was deeply upset about sleeping on my own without my sibling, I also was excited at the thought of being able to sleep in the top bunk, which at that age seemed more adventurous to me.
From the very first night, I remember a strange feeling of unease creeping slowly from the back of my mind.
I lay on the top bunk, staring down at my dolls and cars strewn across the purple, violet colored carpet.
I couldn’t help but feel that my eyes were being slowly drawn to the furnace across the room.
As if something was moving in the corner of my eye. Something which did not wish to be seen.