The Figure in the Shadows
Ella sat up quickly, her hands gripping the soft bedding as though it could ground her. Her heart thudded in her chest, pounding out a melody of suspense. She strained to listen against the silence, but the house had fallen deathly still again. Was she imagining it? Maybe what she’d heard was nothing more than her mind playing tricks, fueled by the eerie message—but her gut told her otherwise.
She swung her legs over the side of the bed, her bare feet settling onto the cold hardwood floor. The contrast of the chilly surface against her warm skin heightened the tension in her body. The sheer lace of her lingerie shifted with her movements, as though it, too, was alive and aware of the danger around them.
Then she saw it. Just there, in the dim corner where the light from her bedside lamp barely reached, a silhouette. Tall, still—and watching.
Run or Fight?
The chill that ran down her spine turned her blood to ice. Who was it? How had someone gotten into her home? Her breaths came in panicked bursts as she fought for control. The air felt thick, suffocating, like an unseen force was pressing down on her chest.
She knew she should move—run, scream, do something. But her legs felt locked in place as the figure in the shadows seemed to grow larger, almost as if pulling the darkness in around itself. Then, without warning, it stepped forward. A face came into focus, though obscured by a mask—featureless, emotionless.
That was when instinct kicked in. Ella leaped towards the door, her only chance at escape. Her mind raced as fast as her bare feet across the hardwood, the chill floor beneath her barely registering in her focus on survival. Her fingers fumbled on the door handle, her heart slamming in her chest, and just as the door creaked open…
…a gloved hand slammed it shut from behind.
The Final Breath
Ella spun around, only to find herself face to face with her intruder. Panic surged through her, and she stumbled back, colliding with the wall. Her every breath was ragged now, fear gripping her throat so tightly she couldn’t scream even if she had the energy. The masked figure said nothing, standing eerily still while she fought to comprehend the situation.
“Why…?” She barely managed to whisper, unable to tear her eyes away from the faceless horror before her. But no answer came.
Then, with a slow, deliberate motion, the figure lifted its hand—clutched in its fingers was her phone. The screen lit up with a message she had received only moments before.
“I can see you.”
The Last Glimpse
The dim light flickered, casting long shadows that twisted and distorted reality even further. The model of elegance, comfort, and beauty that she existed in just moments ago had crumbled. In that moment, Ella realized her perfect world had always been fragile, a web waiting to unravel.
The gloved hand moved fast, and then there was darkness.
And in that darkness, the last breath she ever took rippled through the air before fading into silence.
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