Hazel sat in her room. the best part of her room was the window.
It was a large, bay window that looked out onto the sprawling backyard. From her perch on the cushioned window seat, Hazel could watch the squirrels chase each other up the ancient oak tree, observe the robin family that nested in its branches every spring, and dream up stories inspired by the world unfolding before her eyes.
Hazel, curled up with her legs folded to her chest she was lost in thoughts. The gentle hum of crickets and the rustling leaves created a soothing backdrop to her thoughts. Long shadows stretched across the lawn, transforming familiar shapes into mysterious figures. Hazel watched a lone firefly blink its way through the deepening dusk, its tiny light a beacon in the growing darkness. She imagined it was a lost traveler, searching for a safe haven.
Suddenly, the tranquility was shattered. A series of loud, heavy stomps echoed through the hallway outside her room. Each footfall vibrated through the floorboards, making her heart pound in her chest. It sounded like someone was running, or perhaps… chasing something. The image of a shadowy figure, fleeting and desperate, flashed through her mind.
Hazel's breath caught in her throat. The hair on the back of her neck prickled. She quickly Got up the quiet of the room, once comforting, now felt heavy, pregnant with an unknown threat.
The stomping continued, growing closer. Hazel's eyes darted around the room, searching for a place to hide, a weapon to defend herself. She felt a surge of adrenaline, her senses heightened. The familiar comfort of her room had vanished, replaced by an unsettling sense of dread.
She strained her ears, trying to discern the direction of the approaching footsteps. Were they coming closer? Or were they moving away? The uncertainty was agonizing. She imagined all sorts of scenarios: a burglar, a wild animal that had somehow gotten into the house, or… something worse. Her imagination, usually a source of comfort and creativity, now conjured up terrifying images that danced in the shadows of her room.
Hazel's heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic drumbeat in the silence. She held her breath, her eyes fixed on the doorknob. Every muscle in her body was tense, coiled like a spring. She was ready to run, to fight, to do whatever it took to protect herself.
But the sound faded away and she breathe a breath of relief and signed.
She thought to herself that she might be just paranoid. she moved to the bed deciding to get some rest. she switched off the lamp, making the whole room dark.The shadow extended a tendril.
Hazel drifted. Not asleep, not quite awake, but somewhere in between, adrift on a sea of swirling colours that shifted and pulsed like a living thing. Usually, her dreams were a chaotic jumble of half-remembered conversations, forgotten chores, and the occasional flying bicycle. But tonight, the colours were muted, almost grayscale, and a chilling stillness permeated the dreamscape.
The familiar prickle of unease began to crawl up her spine. This was the dream again. The one she'd been having, on and off, for weeks. The one with the shadows.
The swirling greys solidified, coalescing into a hazy, indistinct landscape. There were shapes, suggestive of trees, perhaps, or buildings, but everything was shrouded in a perpetual twilight. The air hung heavy, thick with a sense of dread.
Hazel tried to move, to turn back, to force herself awake, but her limbs felt heavy, unresponsive. She was a spectator in her own nightmare, trapped behind an invisible pane of glass.
A flicker of movement at the edge of her vision. A shadow detached itself from the gloom beneath a skeletal tree. It wasn't a shadow like any she'd seen in the waking world. This was… sentient. It pulsed with a dark energy, a malevolent awareness.
It didn't have a defined form, not exactly. It was more like a distortion of the light, a patch of absolute darkness that shifted and writhed, occasionally forming fleeting shapes – a clawed hand, a gaping maw, a pair of burning red eyes that vanished as quickly as they appeared.
The shadow drifted closer, gliding across the dream-ground without a sound. Hazel's heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic drumbeat in the oppressive silence. She wanted to scream, but her voice was trapped somewhere deep inside her throat.
As the shadow approached, she could feel a coldness emanating from it, a chilling emptiness that seeped into her bones. It felt… hungry.
The shadow stopped a few feet away, its indistinct form looming over her. It felt like it was studying her, probing her mind. Hazel squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself to wake up, but the darkness behind her eyelids was no different from the darkness surrounding her.
Suddenly, a whisper, thin as smoke, brushed against her ear. She couldn't understand the words, but the tone was unmistakable. It was mocking, cruel, and laced with an ancient malice.