Watched

Amelia lay sleeping, or so she decided. She simply must be sleeping! It was the only rational explanation for what was happening to her. It must all be a dream.1

She lay in the pitch black of her corner bedroom listening to the flutter of the sheers across her open windows, afraid to open her eyes. She felt awake, but dared not admit it nor attempt to prove it by stirring. A warm prickle paraded along her neck, arms and thighs as every hair stood on end. Logic told her an electrical storm must be blowing in. It was too hot on this August night to get chill bumps from a slight breeze. Still, an icy wave washed over her. Her hands and feet nearly numbed except for their aching. She reasoned that perhaps someone had turned on the A/C, forgetting about her open windows. Nevermind who it could possibly have been. Perhaps her parents had returned early and she hadn't heard them come in. There was an explanation for everything...2

except that stupid notion of being watched. Her imagination?3

From behind her eyelids, she could see a circle of wispy faces floating like grey smoke above her, surrounding her bed. Seven pairs of eyes groped her nightclothes and protruding limbs. She imagined them staring into her with some strange, unrevealed purpose. Amelia watched them with curiosity, comforted only by the fact that she was making up the whole thing with her unconscious mind. She vaguely wondered what significance the situation had on the problems of her waking life. She thought it was amazing how the brain worked out its frustrations through the complexities of dreams. Only then did it occur to her that she had just blinked. Too late she realized that her eyes weren't shut tight at all.4

She squeezed her eyes closed then opened them wide to check her vision, yet this did nothing to evaporate the hazy apparition. Refusing to accept the truth of her predicament she bolted upright and across the bare wooden floor. Her blind, fumbling fingers finally found the lightswitch on the wall next to her door and flicked it upward. She stared at the now startled faces that were still staring back at her. Fierce whiteness filled the room instantly, but the vaporous trespassers only gradually receded. Their eyes were the very last to disappear. 5

A student of experience, Amelia learned one thing that night. For those more atuned to the presence most don't see, it makes perfect sense to sleep with the lights on.6