I know you people fear the dark. You never know what might be lurking in it. You can't see very well, if at all. And that loss of sense, that loss of power and control, can be scary. When you feel like you're trapped and vulnerable, relying only on your ears to help you, it can be easy for the fear and anxiety to start increasing. And then as you grow accustomed to the dark, you struggle to make out shapes moving in the distance. But (and this is a rare instance where I will admit to some fault and deception in the darkness) shadows can be tricky. Is the object you see really that tall? That wide? That distorted? Are those things that look like claws actually claws? Or is it just a trick of the light? Can you trust your eyes, or are their limited capabilities betraying you?
All this uncertainty, no doubt, makes you even more nervous. The fear and anxiety start increasing even more. And then your ears begin to betray you as well, as you over-rely on them despite them being even weaker than your eyes. What are all those little noises you suddenly start noticing? Has that beeping always been there? What's that ominous drone in the distance? Is the creaking just the house settling, or is there someone there? Is it just machinery and appliances? Or is there something else creeping through your house, trying to stay just as undetected…
The floorboard squeak. Is it natural, or is it another pair of feet? Is that shadow really moving, or is it just you that's moving, creating the illusion that you're being followed? Is that distant droning that almost sounds like a rumble an old heater in the basement? Or is something groaning? That black, taillike shadow, is it really a tail? Or when you rounded the corner, did the ends of your own furniture create that illusion? Is the rustling and rattling coming from the outside? Or is something moving around, trying to avoid you? There's a large shape in the distance, but it's in the kitchen. Could it just be your fridge?
And yet still, you carry on. Why? Why in the name of all of creation would you keep walking through a dark and (seemingly) empty house if it does nothing but terrify you? Why do you not run or hide? Why do you keep exploring? What do you expect to find and what do you think you can do when you find it? The smarter option would be to run, and find help, not keep walking around in a potentially dangerous area. What gives you the strength (or stupidity) to keep on looking? I think it is the darkness that gives you courage. The very same thing that renders you so wary, paranoid and distrustful now is the very same thing that keeps you going at the same time, despite all of your fears.
But I think that makes a lot of sense, actually. In the darkness, you can never be sure of anything. But that can be a good thing! You can use it to remind yourself that monsters aren't real. You can remind yourself that you're safe. You can tell yourself that you're just seeing things because you're scared, and your eyes are so limited in the darkness. You can use the ambiguity of the shadows to your own advantage and turn the tables. Turn uncertainty into optimism. Turn fear into bravery. Tell yourself it's just a trick of the light! In the darkness, you can deny your fears and anxieties. Your rationalizations can replace your doubt and distrust. In the darkness, you can hide safely and rest easy.
You cast off the negative connotations of the dark. You remember everything I have ever told you before. You feel better now, and the quietness of the house returns. This time, peace follows after. And since you've finally stopped your restless search, the shadows aren't moving anymore. You did it. You turn on the light. And there it is.
It's tall, skinny and hairless. It's deathly pale. It looks vaguely like a skeleton, save for what appears to be a thin layer of skin pulled over its frame. It has no eyes. The skin around the sockets just… falls inward… into the darkness… forever. It has slits for nostrils, but no discernable nose. At first, you think it doesn't even have a mouth. But then a thin slit, finer than a scalpel's cut, starts to appear on the lower end of its… skull. It opens up wider and wider and wider. There are no teeth and there is no tongue. Just a black hole. Endless. Hungry. Opened wide.
And as it continues opening its gaping maw, jaws starting to unhinge like a snake's, its face beings to distort, as if the process of opening its mouth so wide causes the rest of the skin on its skull to start stretching painfully. Now it looks like the creature is in pain, the skin around the eye sockets being pulled downward to mimic an expression of agony. The jaw finally stops extending once its halfway down the creature's skeletal torso. The end of that torso tapers off into a centipede-like body, but instead of having centipede feet, it possesses spider legs and human arms in equal number. They twitch, but do not move. The tail end of the creature's body, in contrast to its bony upper half, looks fleshy, bulbous and disgustingly warm. The legs poke out of the fleshy sides at random.
Then two bony arms reach out to you. The left one is short and misshapen, as if it did not fully develop. The other has a hand that seems far too big and heavy for such a thin arm. The nails on that hand are repulsive, large yellowed squares with cracks down the middle. Then the legs finally begin to propel it forward, towards you. The spider legs clack gently against the wooden floors and the hands drag along in a soft brushing sound. The mouth has started to widen again, dragging the skin around the eyes down even more, contorting the thing's expression even further…
At least, in the darkness, you could deny this. At least, in the darkness, you can deny any fears or dangers that might be lurking in the shadows. But not in the light. In the light, there is nothing but the cold, hard truth. There is only the harsh reality of what lies before you now. You cannot run or hide or lie or deny in the light. Maybe in the shadows, you could find refuge and courage. But not in the light. All that exists in the light is an ugly truth, something you wish to cower from, but now have no more room to deny. You can ignore it no longer. You must face it head-on. You have no other choice. Not anymore. You forfeited that right the second you turned the lights on.
At least, in the darkness, you can hide. And you could deny this monstrous truth. But not in the light.
AN: Based on another creepypasta I can't remember the name or author of (let me know if you find it), this basically points out why the light is scarier than the dark, because you have to face the ugly truth if you're standing in the light.
(This is similar to "Aren't You Glad You Didn't Turn On the Lights?")