My Childhood Fear of the Dark

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My Childhood Fear of the Dark
When it comes to my childhood, I will always relate it to a small house, old and run-down, where I lived with my grandparents. I can still remember those marks that I drew casually on the wall of it, those flowers in the backyard on which my grandfather would spend most of his spare time and, of course, a frisky puppy, completely black from the head to the tail, who I would like to call “little black.” I can also recall those happy moments, such as watering flowers with my grandfather, or playing a trick on my “little black.” Nevertheless, my childhood was not always about joy and happiness; it was about fear as well. When I was a little kid, it seemed that I was afraid of nothing, except only one thing—the dark. What does the word “dark” mean? As for me, in my childhood, it represented ghosts. Surely, I knew that there were no so-called ghosts in the world, but when I was in a completely dark room, some kind of ghosts—with his hideous face and terrible teeth—would come into my mind and make me fearful. They don’t actually exist, but I was still fearful of them somehow. It’s quite strange. I could not withstand being in the dark, because I thought there might be someone invisible around me. Sometimes when I lied in the bed in a dark room, with my face towards the ceiling, I was afraid to open my eyes, fearing that I could see something that I had imagined hundreds of times. Even as I tried to reach out to the light switch, I would keep my eyes firmly closed until the light was on. It may sound funny, but it’s true. On one weekday night, when I was 8 years old, I stayed out a little late with my friends. On my way back home, I talked loudly and sang happily all along the road with the lights on. However, as I came to an alley, my footsteps stopped. Although my house was just about 30 meters away, I could not step further—the alley is completely dark! What could I do? What should I do? For a few minutes, I just stood there, not...
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