I never believed in such things...
—Until when?
—Until they happened to me.
I hadn't even started my studies yet. I had just returned from a walk through the city at night, laid down in bed, and within seconds, the mattress shivered —as if breathing beneath me. I thought it was a tremor, a fleeting dream… but no, only the mattress moved, as though something below it demanded to be known.
Night fell again, and I returned to my bed. This time, sober, awake. I turned off the lights and sat down… and the movement returned. Once, twice, a third time —each stronger, each heavier, like a whisper of the unseen. I shut my eyes, whispering to myself that it was imagination. Yet when I opened them, I saw a shadow perched on my window—and an eye blinking from the ceiling, watching me.
The third night, I didn't close my eyes. I waited. Silence screamed louder than any noise. An hour later, exhaustion took over… and that's when I felt it: something climbing up my sheets. I ignored it—until two hands crawled up my feet, cold, deliberate, alive.
Rage overpowered fear. I stood and shouted,"If you want something—say it! Don't hide!"
My skin was drenched in terror, my heart trapped between disbelief and madness. I tore apart the bed, flipped the mattress, broke the frame—nothing.Only silence.Only the sound of my own panic breathing.
Sometimes, in dreams, I see that eye again… and sometimes, I am the eye.And when I wake, the shadow still waits by the window, watching the slow decay of my imagination.