Clarence curled himself into a ball immediately after he was laid down, his arms instinctively wrapping around the pillow, hugging it tightly to himself. He slept peacefully...at first.
He was in the dorm room with Emory. He was on his bed, scribbling down some answers for an assignment while Emory was sitting at a desk. He couldn't see what Emory was doing, but he could hear the sound of a pencil, so he assumed that he was drawing. It was a comfortable silence...But suddenly, everything seemed dark. Like it had already been dark...but he knew it hadn't been. He stopped writing, looking up from his notebook to glance around the room. He could still hear the sound of a pencil moving, and Emory was still sitting at the desk. But...he looked motionless. Of course, he wasn't in a position where he could actually see Emory's arm, but...his shoulders weren't even moving as a sign to show he was breathing.
And the room suddenly seemed even darker. His eyes were wide, and he couldn't move. He had a terrible fear of the dark...When he finally worked up the courage to look around a bit, he noticed that Emory was no longer at the desk. He was no longer in sight. He swallowed harshly, his breathing beginning to get shaky. "...Emory?" He squeaked. Nothing. His bottom lip quivered, and he tried again. "Emory." He said, this time a bit more confidently. And though he didn't exactly hear a reply back, he thought he heard whispering...coming from the corner of the room closest to Emory's bed. Foolishly, he slowly shifted his gaze over, until he saw it. A dark, hazy outline of a figure, standing in the corner. He was so absolutely sure it was staring straight at him. He couldn't move. He was absolutely paralyzed in fear.
The figure was so tall...Its head seemed to almost touch the ceiling. The silence seemed almost endless, the time being spent with Clarence just staring at the figure in pure, raw fear. Until a candlelight suddenly flickered on in front of it, and Clarence could just barely see long, boney fingers wrapped around a white candle. The figure slowly raised its hand upward, the light getting closer and closer to its face. Clarence wanted to scream in horror at the figure's face. The way its eyes stared into his, an utterly insane look in them. The way its mouth curled up into an impossibly wide, wicked smile. Clarence didn't want to even blink. He managed to keep his eyes open, but they were slowly weakening.
He began to hear a whisper, the voice sounding raspy and hoarse.
"Clarence..."
It seemed to have come from the figure, but its mouth didn't move.
"Clarence..."
This time it was closer...as if it were half-way across the room, but the figure was still in the same spot, staring at him. Then, Clarence couldn't take it anymore, and he blinked, and it was quick, but it was enough. He no longer saw the figure. The candlelight was gone. But not for long...
Clarence began to see a dim glow in the corner of his eye, but he didn't dare look anywhere other than straight ahead, though the room was pitch-black now. His breath hitched in his throat when he realized he could feel the heat of the flame at the back of his neck.
Then it was right in his ear.
"Clarence."
He woke up with a start, his body shaking, his knuckled white from how tightly he was clutching the pillow. The room was dark...He could barely see anything. He simply stared forward, not wanting to look anywhere else, and he began to quietly cry out of fear. He felt like such a child...But he was terrified. He wanted to reach down and pull a blanket over himself, to not feel so vulnerable, and maybe comfort himself a bit, but he didn't move. He was much too afraid of what he thought might happen if he made even the slightest movement.
