The security they provide against such stupid hallucinations one gets in the dark, after reading a horror story, made all the worse by the sounds a house makes when settling down, along with the sounds of the street outside - or lack thereof.
As it stands, I half believe that there's something so malevolent standing in my bedroom corner. I'd rather not test this theory; the almost-humanoid silhouette of the guitar in its case, standing in the corner, doesn't help either.
I sneaked into my mother's bed, and hour earlier. There was no security there. I knew she wouldn't take it seriously - I wouldn't take it seriously, either, the simple scares of an overly imaginative child. Her room is even darker than mine. No light leaks in through heavy curtains, and there are no electronic lights to provide comfort.
After ten minutes, I sneaked back. It turns out that music and bright cell phone screens provide much more security.
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