Mickey
an excerpt

He wasn't afraid of the darkness per se. He considered himself a pretty rational thinker when taking his modest age into consideration, and was well aware that mere lack of light sources couldn't possibly hurt him. Unless he was to accidentally bang his head into something, or slip on a discarded rollerscate carelessly left in his room. Not that his room wasn't usually more tidy than those of most other kids his age who, at the very most, only bothered to put stuff in its proper place when specifically and repeatedly told to by parents. Add to this the fact that he didn't actually own a pair of rollescates, and it soon became even more unlikely that he should suffer a scating-induced concussion in the dark of night in his own room..

There were other risks, of course. There might be a gas leak one night, and the police and firefighters might overlook him when searching the house for inhabitants to evacuate. Well, if they failed to bring flashlights, that is. Or if they didn't remember to flick on the switch. Flashlights were capable of running out of batteries, of course, and light bulbs occasionally needed replacing, and during a crisis like a gas leak, who would honestly think to mind such details? On the other hand, a team of uniformed men trampling through the house was likely to wake him so he might call out to them. Unless he was unconscious from the gas. In which case the men - or women, since women wore uniforms too - would also have to wear gas masks, and thus further impede their vision and the likelyhood of noticing him lying there in his bed, suffocating quietly in his sleep.