Leave Every Light On

Chapter 1: Scream

Adults often laugh about how children leave every light in the house burning.

The hallway light. The bathroom light. The lamp beside the bed. Sometimes even the light inside the closet, though the bulb makes the clothes cast long, crooked shadows across the wall.

Parents complain about electricity bills. They walk from room to room, flipping switches and calling over their shoulders.

“You don’t need all these lights on.”

The child always disagrees.

Not with calm words or careful reasoning, but with wide eyes and a trembling voice.

“Please don’t turn that one off.”

Adults rarely understand why one particular light matters. To them, darkness is simply the absence of light. It is harmless. Empty.

To children, darkness is never empty.

It breathes.