People don’t fear the dark. They fear what lays in the dark. This is true for a lot of fears, actually. Heights? Afraid of falling and getting hurt or dying. Water? Fear of getting hurt or dying. Snakes? Fear of getting hurt or dying. When you think about it, all fears boil down to pain or death. And pain, I suppose, can be tied in with death. And even then, we don’t fear death itself. We fear what lies after it. So, in a way, the universal fear of all beings is uncertainty. Which, if you stretch your mind a bit farther, is another reason we fear the dark.

Why am I telling you this? It’s crucial, I believe, to truly understand what happened that truly dark, dark night.

It honestly did start out as an ordinary day, but I probably wouldn’t have noticed otherwise. It was one of those days when after 10 minutes you go on autopilot and aren't able to truly pay attention to the outside world unless a meteor hits the earth, or you accidentally mix up your Starbucks order with someone who got decaf. But neither of these things happened, so I wandered in my usual daze. I went to work, toiled over files for a while and then drove home. The house was freezing.

I dumped my briefcase on the counter and sat down on the couch, turning on the TV and catching up on some extra work which I couldn’t be bothered to do at the office. It was all familiar. And, abruptly, the TV turned off. All the lights turned off actually. Blackout. I was a little annoyed, but finally, the tiniest bit of apprehension crept in. The house shouldn’t be this dark. It wasn’t even six, and even though it was cloudy, light should be able to come through the window. It was as if someone had thrown a dark veil over the room, leaving objects in the distant corners to the imagination.

I brushed it off as paranoia from watching "The Shining"with my friend the other night. I continued my work, and to my annoyance, the lights did not come back. The sun finally crept behind the horizon, and the veil darkened more and more with each passing second. Irritated, I stood up, dug around for a flashlight and made my way to the fuse box. The power shouldn’t be out this long. I had just had an electrician come over a few weeks ago.

The fuse box was under the house, in the musty basement. I never went down there, not because of fear but because of the awful smell of sawdust and mildew. The flashlight beam cut through the black veil like a knife. Making my way down the stairs, I fumbled through the basement, heart pounding despite myself, praying I would be able to fix the fuse box and then rush upstairs before I could trip over something. I fumbled with the fuse box, but as I went to open it, my flashlight flickered and went out.

I stood in total blackness. My heart started racing, and I could feel myself spiraling into panic. I tried to rationalize. It’s only a blackout, you’ll be fine. I thought I felt something brush against me. A coat, perhaps?

I stood, paralyzed in fear.The black veil enveloped me, choking me, wrapping around my entire face in an attempt to smother me. The smell of sawdust and mildew clung to my nose, making the air thick and almost oxygen less. I wanted to leave the middle of the room, where I felt exposed and unprotected, but what horrors would I find if I dared to stretch out my arms and wander the invisible terrain? I heard whispers from the corners, and then from behind me. Whispers were all around me, like willow tree branches brushing rustling in the wind.

Something brushed against me again, and this time I ran. I slammed into something that, based on the swelling of my nose, was most likely the concrete wall. At least I was no longer in the center of the room. I pressed my back against the wall, feeling my entire body shaking as though I was in a snowstorm with no coat. The unidentifiable whispers continued, never stopping, always staying the same. The darkness seemed to swell, and at some point during the long night I wished the light would come back, because no matter what horrible creatures were making the whispers, nothing was as terrifying as the pure uncertainty and blindness that I currently faced.

A long night passed, filled with pure panic, whispers which I was sure prophesied my early death, and blackness. But finally, the veil lessened slightly. Only slightly, but at six in the morning, the sun began to make the ride across the sky, chasing away the clouds, and the demons of the black. When I could see, I saw...nothing.

The basement was entirely empty. It occurred to me the whispers had stopped as the sun rose, and now they were gone. The basement was completely empty, and the most terrifying thing there was a cockroach which had apparently died next to me during the night. Shakily, I stood, stretching the muscles which felt like lead after being balled up all night. The fuse box stood, open. I quickly fixed it, rushing upstairs, wanting to leave what I thought was a nightmare.

The entire house was normal. The TV even turned back on, now showing me a Spanish soap opera. I told myself that I had been completely irrational, of course nothing had ever been wrong. But I remembered the deep terror I had felt, and felt sick. Could irrationality really produce the feeling I had felt scarcely twenty minutes ago? I shook it off, and made myself a cup of coffee. I was going to need it. But on my coffee maker stood a little post it note. Nothing to be alarmed by, I often left little ones around the house, to remind myself of birthdays or due dates. But I hadn’t written this one.

Nice doing business with you.

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. All resemblance to actual people, places, incidents, or things is completely coincidental.