They come quietly.
You lie in bed, perhaps on a sofa. Time for a nap, or a good night’s sleep. The world is normal. The night is quiet. All is well.
Without warning, something—a whisper, a footfall, a change in your psychic awareness—impels you to look toward the door. Something is there. You blink, look again.
A dark figure, aspiring to human shape, hovers in the doorway. Or, perhaps you see a glowing presence. Perhaps you see nothing at all, yet you know some thing is there. And aware. It is foul, malevolent, and it sees you.
Molten terror sweeps through your body and soul, and you struggle to flee. But not a finger, not a muscle, responds to your will. You fight the paralysis, but only your eyes remain free . . . yet not free at all, for they are fixed on the thing coming closer.
You scream. Not out loud, because your lips and throat are likewise frozen. In your head, however, the screams are so loud your skull aches.
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