You’re in a room somewhere, reading something. It’s a book. No- an electronic book, I doubt it’s even a book.

You are probably sitting in the dark, the soft glow of the computer book is hurting your eyes.

You are curled up in a blanket, already snuggled up, almost ready for bed.

You look around briefly, for the slightest feeling of unease tickles your senses. It’s so slight, you do not notice.

The book- the material you are reading is chilling, but not entirely so. It talks of rooms and things, of solitary people, sitting on chairs and feeling overall uneasy.

You look up from the material again, the feeling is stronger now, it doesn’t slip past you. Something is here.

What is it? You wonder dully, what could possibly be here? You aren’t alone in the creepy sense. So, what could be here?

Nothing. That’s what. There is nothing here, you are simply paranoid. you may think you here voices coming from your closet, but you really don’t.

You may think that something is trying to touch you, but there isn’t.

You are just paranoid.

You are also exhausted from reading like this in the dark. It’s unhealthy, it’s best to catch up on your sleep.

So you turn off the device that shows your glowing reading material and you sit in darkness, trying to fight the feeling unease in your stomach.

You put the device away, you lay in bed, awake.

Something is here. You know they’re here.

You hear them, the soft swssh of cloth sweeping on the floor, the barest murmur.

You actually don’t. You’re not hearing anything.

You close your eyes, a relaxed smile is now across your face.

You hear them, they’re voices are so quiet as if not to wake you.

Something is there.

You are not hearing them.