People thoughtlessly generalize the dark.

They believe it a formless monolith. Many assume the darkness is nothing more than the absence of light, regardless of locations, or conditions. That is where the assumptions are entirely wrong.

The dark bottled in a closet is not made of the same stuff as that of darkness settled over an unlit graveyard. The blackness of night in a forest is not the same as the unbreakable void beneath the ocean. And the intense shadow of a cave is a different beast than what lurks in the lightless corridors of an abandon hospital. All are separate entities, eating up and embodying the traits of the places they dwell.

Eric knows this now.

Sneaking into the condemned funeral home at night was supposed to be a creepy adventure. All his friends, Damon, Eugene, Adam, and Rosaline. His girlfriend, Marinda. His cousin, Alex. It eventually found and caught them all. Eric is the last one left.

Sweat stings his eyes, his legs are cramping, and some part of the broken-down casket is digging into his back, but he remains still.

The stench of formaldehyde, and fragrance of various flowers, suddenly overwhelms Eric’s nostrils. The sounds of grief, and mournful whispers rise, all drifting on the rapidly cooling air. It is approaching again.

“Eric? Where are you?” Marinda’s voice calls out.

“It was your idea to come here.” Alex voice reminds him.

“Eric? Why are you ignoring me? Please don’t be this way.”

“We’re here because of you.”

Eric spots the dark shape from the corner of his eye, as it is entering the room, and he immediately but carefully lowers the lid shut. He can’t bear to see it again. Even glimpses of this obscene shadow feels like it is chipping aware at his mind.

The guilt and grief are heavy in Eric’s chest. Their voices are right. It’s his fault. But he didn’t know. Couldn’t have known. He would have never come here with them if he knew. He wishes he had listened to Eugene, who wanted to keep their normal Friday tradition of pizza, and video games. He wants to cover his ears. He wants to tell them how sorry he is. But Alex tried that. Eric can only cover his mouth to keep from making any sound as he cries.

This cursed offspring of Nyctophobia and Thalassophobia, searches closer and closer to the casket. The sounds of breaking bone, opening flesh, and bone saws, all occasionally mixing. The noise begins to fade as It takes the search elsewhere.

Eric waits several minutes while straining his ears. He has been slowly creeping closer and closer to the only exit, a broken office window. He is one room away.

He partially opens the lid to peek out again. The wafting stench of flowers and formaldehyde reveals his mistake too late, even before he spots the cold, dead gazes of his friends, cousin, and girlfriend, all staring back at him through the partial opening.