Frightened? Not me!

[A bit of flash fiction for today based on the prompt "You don't scare me," as given at Writing.com]

I say it, but I don’t believe it; not really.  I just hope it sounds convincing.  I’m not sure it matters, but it might.

The thing in my closet never reacts.  Still, I know It hears me.  I know that It watches.

So I try to sound confident.  Angry, even.  I try to walk slowly across the plush carpet, past the closet door and over to my bed.

It doesn’t make any noise.  It doesn’t move.  Nevertheless, I can see the shadow  through the gap in the closet door, left carelessly ajar this morning.

If I don’t act bravely and tell It that I am not afraid, It will come for me.  That’s what my brother told me.  He’s older.  He knows about these things.  After all, It never came for him.

I look down, concentrating on the feel of the beige carpet between my toes, making each stride purposeful.  Mimicking how I see soldiers marching in the movies I’m not supposed to watch.  Head erect, shoulders back.  Strong and courageous.

I think my voice cracked just a bit as I said the words this time, “You don’t scare me!”

I strode forward a little less confident than usual, hoping It didn’t notice.  If It hadn’t come before, It surely could be fooled.  I said the words and I walked the walk, but I was pretending.  Acting, because It did scare me. 

Then I heard the shuffling.  The door creaked slightly.  I’m sure of it.  I didn’t dare look back.  What if It was coming this time?

Without another thought, I bolted toward the bed and dove onto it, pulling the covers up over my head in a panic.  My heart beat a million miles a minute, but I was safe now.

Wasn’t I?  For one more night at least.