The Old Stone Tower

            Merek wrote feverishly, trying to scribble down every word onto his piece of parchment. He sat in an old wooden chair at a wooden desk, in a stone tower built on the side of a hill. The whole tower was dark except for the room at the very top. Merek’s study was lit with torches, creating plenty of light for reading and writing. The abundance of light also kept the night at bay.

            Over the years Merek had seen something moving and shifting out in the darkness. In the black of night, something would emerge from the forest and creep up the hill. The writhing darkness would surround the tower and Merek would light his torches and keep them lit till morning when it was safe again. This didn’t happen very often and when it did, it could be managed by keeping torches lit. But tonight, a night with no moon, the strange moving darkness emerged from the forest, larger and faster than before. Merek wasn’t sure if he was going mad or there really was something out there.

            Merek wrote what down everything he heard and saw, he wrote his thoughts and his last words, just in case. Merek kept seeing movement in the corner of his eye, always by the window. Almost as if something was trying to get in, but couldn’t. He heard the sound of his stone tower creaking as if a large snake were coiling around it. Merek tried to concentrate on his writing. He needed to write his last words to anyone who found this, he needed to document what was happening, but most of all he needed to write to stay sane. He couldn’t allow himself to focus solely on the slithering darkness or the creaking noises. Every time he looked out the window, he saw nothing, but whenever he passed the window he felt something watching him.

            If he looked down toward the forest he would see a squirming motion, if he looked out toward the sea he could catch a glimpse of something moving past his window. None of it made sense, but every sense he had told him to stay indoors and stay in the light. The logical part of his brain kept trying to tell him it was all superstition and nonsense, but fear sure has a way of making every horrible thing seem real.

            Merek paced through his room, muttered to himself. Trying to think calming thoughts and speaking reassurances. Then the torchlight dimmed and he looked out the window one final time. He saw a face staring in from the darkness. It was a face from his nightmares, smiling in at him. Merek screamed and the windows burst open, a chill wind blew out the torches. All went dark and quiet.

            Days later a deliveryman from the town rode up to the tower with supplies. Old Merek was always busy working up in his tower, Writing or trying to invent new things. So deliveries were made to his home. The Man knocked on the large door to the tower and waited. He looked around and gasped at what he saw, Merek, dead at the base of the tower. At the top of the tower a window was open and it looked like he jumped.

            The deliveryman went back to town and told the mayor. The mayor send town guards to investigate. The guards found pages and pages of ramblings. Insane rants about shadows and demons. Merek could have been crazy, no one really knew him, so every just assumed he was crazy. A crazy old solitary man, scared so badly by his own imagination that he jumped from his own tower. That was the official story anyway. What really happened was a mystery. No one ever saw the moving darkness, or at least if they did, they didn’t live long enough to talk about it.