Fear of the Dark
A chance to do Iron Maiden once more, yes please.
While I personally am fine in the dark, I did love putting myself in this situation, please enjoy.
Dedicated to my beloved lifepartner @FlameAndSong who swooned over a picture of me at an Iron Maiden concert:
While I personally am fine in the dark, I did love putting myself in this situation, please enjoy.
Dedicated to my beloved lifepartner @FlameAndSong who swooned over a picture of me at an Iron Maiden concert:
Fin, I love you so much, thank you for being my light in the darkness
I’ve always known the dark isn’t empty, it listens.
It began in the hush of rain, when I stood beneath the crooked bus shelter of my own making, wood, iron, and guilt. Even in daylight, the clouds bruised the sky and the air hummed with secrets too tired to whisper. The city beyond the glass blurred like a half-remembered dream, and I realized it wasn’t the dark I feared, it was what I might meet there.
London, 1888. The fog had teeth.
I’d traded comfort for curiosity long ago, chasing the thrill of candlelight in places where it had no right to burn. They called this district Whitechapel; I called it home because no one else would.
Every step I took echoed like a pulse on cobblestone. Behind me, always behind, footsteps mirrored my own. When I turned, there was nothing but mist and the echo of something laughing softly, like silk tearing.
In the house where I stayed, the wallpaper peeled like old skin. Candles trembled when I breathed too loud. The walls whispered names I hadn’t spoken in years, my own among them. In the mirrors, I moved a heartbeat too slow. At first, I thought it was just weariness. Then I saw it, the shadow that smiled when I did not.
The theatre came later. Red velvet curtains, a spotlight’s cruel glow.
I stood on stage before an audience of ghosts, every one of them wearing my face. My shadow stretched, split, and writhed across the walls, all teeth and regret. And for the first time, I didn’t run. I watched. I listened. And I understood.
The dark was never chasing me.
It was waiting for me to stop pretending I wasn’t already one of its own.
That night in Whitechapel, I found him, or perhaps he found me. A cloaked figure by the gaslight, breath misting like smoke. He turned, slow as time. I reached up, fingers brushing the mask from his face…
And there I was.
Rain hit the stones, steady and merciful. The air shifted, the nightmare folded in on itself. I smiled, not out of madness, but recognition.
You can’t fear the dark once you’ve learned to name every shadow it holds.
And when the sun rose over London, pale and exhausted, I finally walked home, unafraid, unmasked, and whole.
It began in the hush of rain, when I stood beneath the crooked bus shelter of my own making, wood, iron, and guilt. Even in daylight, the clouds bruised the sky and the air hummed with secrets too tired to whisper. The city beyond the glass blurred like a half-remembered dream, and I realized it wasn’t the dark I feared, it was what I might meet there.
London, 1888. The fog had teeth.
I’d traded comfort for curiosity long ago, chasing the thrill of candlelight in places where it had no right to burn. They called this district Whitechapel; I called it home because no one else would.
Every step I took echoed like a pulse on cobblestone. Behind me, always behind, footsteps mirrored my own. When I turned, there was nothing but mist and the echo of something laughing softly, like silk tearing.
In the house where I stayed, the wallpaper peeled like old skin. Candles trembled when I breathed too loud. The walls whispered names I hadn’t spoken in years, my own among them. In the mirrors, I moved a heartbeat too slow. At first, I thought it was just weariness. Then I saw it, the shadow that smiled when I did not.
The theatre came later. Red velvet curtains, a spotlight’s cruel glow.
I stood on stage before an audience of ghosts, every one of them wearing my face. My shadow stretched, split, and writhed across the walls, all teeth and regret. And for the first time, I didn’t run. I watched. I listened. And I understood.
The dark was never chasing me.
It was waiting for me to stop pretending I wasn’t already one of its own.
That night in Whitechapel, I found him, or perhaps he found me. A cloaked figure by the gaslight, breath misting like smoke. He turned, slow as time. I reached up, fingers brushing the mask from his face…
And there I was.
Rain hit the stones, steady and merciful. The air shifted, the nightmare folded in on itself. I smiled, not out of madness, but recognition.
You can’t fear the dark once you’ve learned to name every shadow it holds.
And when the sun rose over London, pale and exhausted, I finally walked home, unafraid, unmasked, and whole.
I am a man who walks alone
And when I'm walking a dark road
At night or strolling through the park
When the light begins to change
I sometimes feel a little strange
A little anxious when it's dark
Fear of the dark, fear of the dark
I have a constant fear that something's always near
Fear of the dark, fear of the dark
I have a phobia that someone's always there
Have you run your fingers down the wall
And have you felt your neck skin crawl
When you're searching for the light?
Sometimes when you're scared to take a look
At the corner of the room
You've sensed that something's watching you
Fear of the dark, fear of the dark
I have a constant fear that something's always near
Fear of the dark, fear of the dark
I have a phobia that someone's always there
Have you ever been alone at night
Thought you heard footsteps behind
And turned around and no one's there?
And as you quicken up your pace
You find it hard to look again
Because you're sure there's someone there
Fear of the dark, fear of the dark
I have a constant fear that something's always near
Fear of the dark, fear of the dark
I have a phobia that someone's always there
Fear of the dark, fear of the dark
Fear of the dark, fear of the dark
Fear of the dark, fear of the dark
Fear of the dark, fear of the dark
Watching horror films the night before
Debating witches and folklores
The unknown troubles on your mind
Maybe your mind is playing tricks
You sense, and suddenly eyes fix
On dancing shadows from behind
Fear of the dark, fear of the dark
I have a constant fear that something's always near
Fear of the dark, fear of the dark
I have a phobia that someone's always there
Fear of the dark, fear of the dark
I have a constant fear that somethings always near
Fear of the dark, fear of the dark
I have a phobia that someone's always there
When I'm walking a dark road
I am a man who walks alone
-Iron Maiden
And when I'm walking a dark road
At night or strolling through the park
When the light begins to change
I sometimes feel a little strange
A little anxious when it's dark
Fear of the dark, fear of the dark
I have a constant fear that something's always near
Fear of the dark, fear of the dark
I have a phobia that someone's always there
Have you run your fingers down the wall
And have you felt your neck skin crawl
When you're searching for the light?
Sometimes when you're scared to take a look
At the corner of the room
You've sensed that something's watching you
Fear of the dark, fear of the dark
I have a constant fear that something's always near
Fear of the dark, fear of the dark
I have a phobia that someone's always there
Have you ever been alone at night
Thought you heard footsteps behind
And turned around and no one's there?
And as you quicken up your pace
You find it hard to look again
Because you're sure there's someone there
Fear of the dark, fear of the dark
I have a constant fear that something's always near
Fear of the dark, fear of the dark
I have a phobia that someone's always there
Fear of the dark, fear of the dark
Fear of the dark, fear of the dark
Fear of the dark, fear of the dark
Fear of the dark, fear of the dark
Watching horror films the night before
Debating witches and folklores
The unknown troubles on your mind
Maybe your mind is playing tricks
You sense, and suddenly eyes fix
On dancing shadows from behind
Fear of the dark, fear of the dark
I have a constant fear that something's always near
Fear of the dark, fear of the dark
I have a phobia that someone's always there
Fear of the dark, fear of the dark
I have a constant fear that somethings always near
Fear of the dark, fear of the dark
I have a phobia that someone's always there
When I'm walking a dark road
I am a man who walks alone
-Iron Maiden
