There is no figure in the corner
There is no mare in the shadows. There are no evil eyes looking at you from beyond the edge of your vision, waiting patiently for you to fall asleep. There's no one hiding in the unlit corner of your room at night, ready to strike when your guard is down and your senses dull. There's nothing lurking in the darkness, watching you to catch you in your most vulnerable moments.
There are no hooves walking silently behind you, moving too quickly for you to catch them, too quietly for you to hear. There are no fangs gleaming in the dark, no sharp teeth ready to prey on your body. There are no black wings gliding through the night, carrying along a mare that doesn't exist.
There's no one with you when you're alone. There's nothing following you when you walk back to your house, late at night along an empty street. Nothing is there when the sky is black and you can't see the stars. There's nothing hiding in the forest or the fields, waiting for a pony to come carelessly too close. There's nothing slithering into your home like mist, through locked doors and shut windows.
There is no monster hidden in the dark. No creature entering your home late at night, through an entrance left open by choice or mistake, climbing and crawling on your walls and ceilings. There are no slit pupils, no unnaturally glowing irises floating amidst the shadows, hanging in the darkness as you look out of your window during a storm. There are no black feathers dark as the night itself, impossible to see until it's too late.
There is no creature of wind and smoke, moving invisible, stalking innocent ponies like you. There are no subtle sounds you barely hear when it's in the room with you, sounds that make you look only to see nothing. There's nothing there, there was never anything there, and you never heard anything. You merely imagined it.
There is no story or nightmare come to life in the real world. There is no manifestation of the terrors in your mind. There is no monster moulded by your dread, bearing the appearance of your deepest, darkest fear. There is nothing to be afraid of in the shadows. There is nothing hiding there.
It's all just stories. Rumours. Fiction spread by young ponies to impress younger ones, a tale to share around a campfire when some wish to feel a chill down their spine. Nothing more than that. Entertainment for those who do not have to fear for their lives, to safely enjoy the thrill of danger, only playing pretend. It's nothing more than just a story.
There are no fugitive shards of the Nightmare that was, living in the far dark corners of Equestria. There is no part of it that survived the Elements and escaped the purging of its host. There is no fragment of night eternal hiding during the day and coming out at night to terrorise ponies once again.
There's nothing hidden under your bed, its tendrils ready to stretch out and grab hold of you when your head is turned. There's nothing standing behind the door, nothing hidden inside your closet. There's nothing moving where you're not looking, too fast for you to catch anything but a blur.
There's no thunder booming and lightning crackling from a mane black as a starless night sky, no horrors crawling back from the past to come and hurt you again. There's nothing out there coming to take away your life, your freedom, your happiness. There's nothing prowling in the wilderness coming to snuff away your life's light.
You're safe. Safe, alone in your room, in your bed, and nothing can hurt you. Stories are just stories. Words are just words. Nothing physical, nothing real. Nothing can touch you. Nothing will come for you. Nothing will take your sleeping body and drag it away before dawn comes. No teeth will burrow into your flesh, no tentacles will wrap themselves around your neck. Because none of those things are real. None of those things are there.
There is no tall mare walking quietly through the night, towering over ponies like you, powerful enough to crush you with little effort or worse, much worse. There is no shadow of the terror that passed, out for revenge, haunting ponies and driving them to madness to feast on their sanity and magic. There is no ghastly apparition ready to loom over you with hollow eyes, ready to unhinge its maws and consume your very being. There is no howl no one else will hear but you, driving you insane.
There are no signs to be noticed during the days leading up to your last night. No misplaced objects, no strange marks on the walls. No signs on your body appearing during the previous nights, no weird memories or odd sensations telling you something is wrong. No feelings you can't fully comprehend, products of your instincts catching on to what your rational mind fails to notice until it's too late. None of that. None of it is real. It's all just a story.
There is no monster hiding in the corner. There is no figure lurking in the darkness. There is no presence walking behind you. There is no creature under your bed. It's only a story. An idea. A concept, only a thought. There is no mare in the shadows. There is only the shadow in your mind. Her shadow. The image of it in your head. In your dreams. In your nightmares. Hidden in the dark corners of your memory and subconscious. There's nothing in this world that can hurt you. But now she is in you. Now she is inside of you as well.
Lurking in the shadows of your mind, hiding in the darkness where nightmares dwell and none can find her. There is no mare in the shadows of this world. But soon you will be in hers.
