You open it.
“You looked. Now I’m in.” You try to scream, but your mouth is full of hair. Long strands winding around your tongue, down your throat, curling into the hollows of your lungs. You gag. Tears hot on your cheeks. atk scary hairy
And from now on, every time you blink, it will be there, waiting in the dark behind your eyes—combing its fingers through the static of your dreams. You open it
And a whisper—not in your ear, but inside your sternum. A voice like old Velcro tearing. Long strands winding around your tongue, down your
You laugh. A nervous, dry sound. You close the email. Three days later, you forget to pay your electric bill. The power cuts at 11:14 PM. Your phone is at 4%. You fumble for a candle. Light a match. The flame catches—and for a split second, the light swings across your hallway mirror.
You spin. Nothing there. The hallway is empty. Your heart is a trapped moth. You tell yourself it was a shadow. A trick of the dying light.
The match burns your fingers. You drop it.
