I’m scared of the dark. Really I am. Our husband just asked us to go get him a beer. Well, it’s after 2:00 A.M., and he keeps his beer in a fridge outside in the garage. That’s a spooky place for me to be at night. I don’t like to leave the house after it gets dark. Some of the K’s are nightowls and love to prowl the streets in the wee hours, but that’s not me. I’m just a little kid. I’m a scaredy cat. And Daddy isn’t here to protect me from the monsters anymore. I haven’t told Husband about the monsters that lurk in the dark. I’m afraid he’ll laugh at me. I don’t think he’ll understand. I’m embarrassed. I want to act like a big girl and be grown up and not be scared but I just can’t stand being out in the garage. There are sounds. And shadows. And places for bad men to hide. I don’t want to go out there. I slam the door shut and lock it as fast as I can, and I imagine I can see the shadows moving towards me, coming to get me. My heart is always pounding after a 45 second visit to the garage. I hate it there but don’t want Husband to know I’m scared so a lot of nights I suffer through this small trauma. I could turn on the garage light I suppose, but then someone else might see me, like a neighbor, and that’s scary too. I don’t want anybody to see me. I like to hide.