Blankets are great.
I don’t know about you, but whenever I’m alone at night in a big house with too many windows without blinds or curtains, and I get spooked, I turn to my friend, the blanket.
My blanket is impervious to all demons, serial killers, vampires and deformed mutant zombies. It must be made of titanium, or maybe woven carbon fiber. Certainly at the very least somewhere on a molecular level it’s inscribed with all kinds of protective sigils, and the fabric itself was washed in the most holiest of holy water.
Its powers disappear when the sun rises. Until then, however, I’ll be stuck underneath it, waiting for the bad things to go away.