The darkness wrapped around me like a shroud, thick and impenetrable, as if the very air had turned to ink. I could feel it crawling up my skin, seeping into my thoughts, filling my lungs with a suffocating dread that tightened its grip with every breath I took. The room, once familiar and safe, now felt alien, its corners harboring secrets that I dared not uncover.
What is that?
I strained my eyes against the gloom, desperate to pierce the veil of shadows that danced just beyond my reach. The moonlight, a feeble sliver, barely managed to slip through the curtains, casting faint, ghostly patterns on the floor. The rest of the room lay in deep shadow, every object distorted, twisted into something ominous. I could hear the blood pounding in my ears, a deafening drumbeat that drowned out all reason.
I swallowed hard, trying to quell the rising panic that surged in my chest. But the darkness pressed down on me, heavy and unyielding, as though it had a will of its own, a malevolent intent that whispered in the silence. My feet, bare against the cold floor, felt like lead as I took a hesitant step forward, the sound echoing eerily in the stillness.
There’s nothing here, I told myself, my voice a hollow whisper in my mind. But even as I tried to convince myself, I knew it wasn’t true. The dread that had settled over me was too real, too palpable to be mere imagination. Something was there, lurking just beyond the edges of my perception, waiting.
And then I heard it—a soft, almost imperceptible rustling, like the faint brush of fabric against the wall. My heart seized in my chest, a cold sweat breaking out along my spine. I froze, every nerve in my body screaming at me to run, but I was rooted to the spot, unable to tear my eyes away from the shadows that seemed to pulse and shift with a life of their own.
“Who’s there?” My voice barely rose above a whisper, trembling as it broke the silence. I felt foolish even as the words left my lips, but the need to break the oppressive quiet was overwhelming. The darkness seemed to absorb my voice, swallowing it whole, leaving nothing but an eerie, oppressive stillness in its wake.
I strained my ears, listening, every muscle in my body coiled tight. The room remained still, but the sense of being watched was undeniable, a prickling awareness that set every hair on edge. My fingers twitched at my sides, itching to reach for the light switch, but fear held me captive, too terrified to move.
The rustling came again, this time closer, from behind me. I spun around, pulse hammering in my throat, but there was nothing—only the same suffocating darkness, mocking my terror. My mind raced, grasping for explanations, but all I could think was that something was there, waiting, hidden in the shadows.
I began to back away, my breath coming in shallow, rapid gasps. The darkness seemed to close in, the walls shrinking around me as I edged toward the door. My foot caught on the edge of the rug, and I stumbled, catching myself against the table with a sharp gasp. Pain shot up my arm, but it was distant, muted by the terror that gripped me.
“Amulya…”
The voice was a soft, sibilant whisper, a breath of sound that caressed my name with a cold, intimate familiarity. It came from the corner of the room, where the shadows were deepest, a place untouched by the feeble moonlight. I turned slowly, my blood turning to ice, my eyes searching the darkness for the source of that voice.
There, in the corner, the shadows shifted, coalescing into a shape, a figure barely discernible against the blackness. I could just make out the outline of a face, the curve of lips that moved as the voice came again.
“Amulya…”
My name on its lips was the last thing I heard before the darkness surged forward, a living entity that swallowed me whole.
I jolted awake, my body drenched in sweat, heart slamming against my ribs. The sunlight poured into the room, a stark contrast to the suffocating blackness of the dream. I blinked against the brightness, my breath coming in ragged gasps as I struggled to orient myself. The familiar surroundings of my bedroom slowly came into focus, banishing the remnants of the nightmare.
“It was just a dream,” I whispered to myself, my voice shaky as I tried to calm my racing heart. I patted my chest, trying to ground myself in the reality of the morning light. “Just a dream, Amu. You’re safe.”
But the knock on the door made me jump, my nerves still raw from the lingering terror. For a split second, the fear threatened to surge back, a dark wave ready to drag me under.
