Darkness consumes people. It is what can lead us to do bad things what can make us stronger or make us weaker, just by letting it in. Letting it come through to the surface without stopping it. I realized this not that long ago, when the dark, the unknown, scared me.

It came closer and closer. My door opened more and more. I hated this time of day, absolutely hated it. It's when the monsters came out to play, when the boogie man was at his meanest, and when the ghosts came out to pull pranks on us children who believed in them. My mom said they didn't exist, but I knew better.

"They only exist in your head," she would say.

"NO!" I would answer back in my head, "You're wrong, they exist in real life but only come after little kids because we get scared easily. Unlike adults, who don't get scared at all."

My mom would leave and shut my door, but never all the way. Never enough to keep all the monsters out. She always forgot to make sure it clicked so it couldn't be opened by the monsters. I watched as my door opened more and more. I could hear the T.V. from the front room, but behind that noise was the laughing of the monsters. The words "I am going to get you." "You can't hide from me now." "There's no light to make me hide, to blind me, to make me go away." They were wrong. I looked under my pillow under my blankets around my bed. "Looking for something?" a strange voice asked. I looked up and saw that my flashlight was across the room on my dresser.

"You're not real," I said.

"Really? Then why are we here? Why can you see us?"

They had a point. I took my covers like I did every time the monsters were here and covered my head, using a death grip to hold it over my head so nothing could get to me. So no one could see me. So I could disappear into my bed and sleep, because when I woke up they would be gone. The sooner I fell asleep the faster they would go away.

All of this brought up questions later in my life. Why do we feel safe under blankets? It's not like some serial killer is going to come in and be like, "hahah- oh man, she's under a blanket, can't kill her now. On to someone else I guess."

Why as little kids do we believe in this stuff, but later on we don't. We forget all about it, until we have children of our own and tell our kids, and scare them to death, terrifying them as much or more than we were? I guess this book was Golding's point. We are all cruel in some ways we all our evil it just depends on if you want to be. We all have evil lurking inside of us, waiting till we are at our most weakest to consume us. To absorb us until we have no morality, until all we do and see is evil.