Disclaimer: Disclaimed.

A/N: These will be told in vaguely connected segments, written like a person scribbling thoughts down on paper, unstructured. If there are themes you wish for Pitch to explore / go deeper in on, do comment.

.

.

INTRODUCTION

.

.

Hello.

I saw you birthed into the world, pink and warm and wet, screaming and trembling in fear. I saw you grow, eyeing the dark spaces of your bedroom at night, using your sheets to hide your terrified plump face. I saw you want, reaching out to the object of your petty desire, only to be refused and humiliated. I saw you reproduce, the remains of your act in a small rubber container thrown in the garbage, looking into a mirror and thinking about dying alone. I saw you die, lonely in your wheelchair, thin lips parting ever so slightly as life poured out of your shrunken veins—and I grinned, because you finally saw me.

I know where you are going.

I know where you are going.

I know where you are going.

All of you.

My names are many. It differs from civilisation to civilisation. Pitch Black. The Boogeyman. The darkness. An evil spirit. An illusion, some philosophers claimed. But when I visited them over a glass of absinthe their flaccid skin stretched in horror, and they thought otherwise.

The question always arises:

Do I fear? Do I want fear? Do I need fear?

It is simpler than that.

I am Fear.

I am every shadow. I am howling in the woods. I am water, dragging you downwards and stealing your breath. I am the shadow that wasn't there, the breath on the back of your neck, the face in the window. I am every test, every footprint in the snow, every moment before pain, and failure, and love. I am—

Fear.

It is simply another form of Belief. Stronger. More dangerous. Me.

Beneath the broken bed, I live. Fear doesn't rest. I was banished here a very long time ago.

But you already know this, yes? I can compare it to a glass jar, shrewd on tight, thrown far, far into a dark room inside. There is no word in any human tongue that can convey what that something is. But deep down you all know what it is. I am amazed at humans' ability to repress and forget, and to wrap thing into cotton. The children know though.

But I like words. Everything humans do and create is out of fear, including language.

I am writing this because I want you to know.

I want you to know that I am there with you, and it doesn't matter if you're young or old because I am always there. Sometimes I stand further behind you, in the shadows. Other times I'm very near, my hands resting on your stiff shoulders. Like now.

Don't turn around.