J.P. Slouch

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An hour past midnight—an unbearable heaviness in my chest. I woke to find myself pinned to the mattress, my limbs leaden and my voice stolen. The room was bathed in the soft glow of my bedside lamp, left on after countless nights of waking in terror. my eyes, the only part of me that obeyed, darted toward the corner of her room. That’s when I saw it.

A figure loomed in the shadows, taller than any human, its outline jagged and wrong. Its head brushed the ceiling, but its body seemed to flicker, as though it struggled to remain tethered to this world. It was watching me.

It stepped closer, its form becoming clearer. Its limbs were unnaturally long, its hands ending in gnarled, claw-like fingers that seemed to absorb the light. a figure tall and emaciated, with limbs too long and joints that bent at unnatural angles. Its skin was mottled and gray, and its face was twisted as though it had been pieced together by a mad sculptor. stretched taut over jagged bones that jutted out unnaturally. A viscous, black fluid dripped slowly from between its teeth, hissing faintly as it splattered to the ground. Despite its grotesque appearance, the creature's grin was disturbingly calm, as if it took immense pleasure in the terror it inspired. Its smile was the most horrifying feature—a gaping, unnatural grin that stretched impossibly wide across its gaunt face. Rows of jagged, needle-like teeth jutted out at odd angles, some cracked and splintered, others gleaming wetly in the dim light. The smile seemed to pulse, as though alive, and it was so wide that the corners of its mouth appeared torn, dark veins trailing from the edges.

I smiled back…