God only knows how long it had been there, but there it was, staring at him, or at least he could feel it staring. It was dark, both inside the room and inside the wardrobe, but sometimes you sense things. All most as if apprehension were palpable, it was there, clinging to the environment, to the air, to the space itself. The hairs on his arms stood fast and the only thing keeping the him from the confrontation were the bedsheets that somehow stopped the moment of revelation. It was a pause in time, a lingering wherein your movements and decisions work at wholly different speeds.
His breathing, potentially much quieter in actuality, reverberated within him, it pounded inside and throughout. His eyes, as fearing as they were, failed to move from the wardrobe. The moment was close, he could feel it welling up, fight or flight, stand or cower. He chose a rather tepid step towards the dark.
His legs shook, his feet stuttered. The wardrobe stood but yards away. Each movement brought a sense of overriding fear, coupled with something surprising- a feeling of impending clarity and resolution. He'd shivered in his bed for hours and now it would end.
A hand reached out. Nearer and nearer. The door that hung ajar creaked and yearned for his touch. A grasp on the handle and a swift action flung the door open. Nothing...then a pause and listen. A sound from behind.
Something flickered beneath his bed.