Dark Shadows
A voice jolted him awake. It was the middle of the night and the voice contrasted with the dead silence. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he looked around the room, but saw nothing. He waited for the voice to speak again, but it did not come. There were no more sounds, no indication, nothing to prove that there was anyone there, but there was someone there, or something. He was sure of it.
His hands fumbled for the light switch, but when he could not find it, he grabbed the thing closest to him: his alarm clock, which he would use as a weapon. Through his shadowed vision, he made out a figure. He/She/It was unmoving and quiet, too quiet that he wondered if his eyes were playing tricks on him. Still, he the the clock; it made contact with the figure.
It lunged forward towards him and he scrambled back. Fear rose in his chest. There was no more room to move--he was trapped. The figure raised its hand and hit him across the face, and all he could see were dancing lights, spinning and moving and then they were gone and all that was left was a peaceful darkness.
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