They lurk in dark corners of our houses when everyone else is asleep. We see their shadows at the other end of that abandoned alley where the street lamps are broken. They watch us in the woods, close enough to feel but still hidden by the gloom.
I’m talking about monsters. The kind that go bump in the night and leave a chill running up our spines.
Terrifying Monsters Make for Memorable Stories
When we build terrifying monsters into our stories, they will ingrain themselves in our readers’ minds, making our stories unforgettable.
The Netflix show Stranger Things does this with great success. In addition to nailing 80s nostalgia, the show has created an amazing monster that will keep us talking about the story for years after the buzz has faded. We will remember the thing with no face that lurks in the woods at night.
We want that for our stories, too. We want people talking about them long after they’ve read them. We want our characters to be seared into our readers’ brains.
3 Traits of Memorable Monsters
How do we create monsters that leave such lasting marks on our readers' psyches? Memorable monsters have three things in common:
1. Memorable monsters take something normal and twist it.
These perversions of the everyday seal horrifying images into our minds.
Nothing is unusual about an old woman living alone. But replace her hair with snakes and give her the power to turn men to stone with a single glance, and you have Medusa, one of the most famous monsters of all time.
A bull in a pasture is not scary. Give that bull the body of a man and a craving for human flesh, and you have a Minotaur. This monster is used so often in stories that just saying its name sends frightening images racing through our minds.
I live near a forest, and we spot foxes routinely. An animal hunting in the woods is common. But take away the animal’s face and give it the ability to appear from nothing, and you have the beast in Stranger Things.
To build great monsters, start with an everyday thing. Then twist it and make it memorable by adding something to it that makes readers want to turn away.
2. Memorable monsters play on existing fears.
Before we design them, we have to decide why they scare us. The good news is, there’s no need for us to create new fears for our readers when there are so many things that already go bump in the night.
Lovecraft knew we were already afraid of large unknown things we struggle to describe, of things outside of our control on the fringes of our world. He played on our fear when he built the great beast Cthulu.
Stephen King knew a clown outside of the circus trying to lure children with balloons would make the hairs on our necks stand at attention, so he took our fear that we will be unable to protect children and turned it into Pennywise.
We feel safe in our homes, behind our locked windows and doors. Secretly, we are afraid that our castle isn’t as strong as we think it is, that there is something out there in the night that can breach its walls. Matt and Ross Duffer, the creators of Stranger Things, played on this fear when they gave their monster the ability to take people from their places of safety.
When writing monsters, we don’t need to design new fears for our readers. We simply need to ask ourselves what we are afraid of, and build the monster from there.
3. Memorable monsters show us something about ourselves.
Before we describe them, and before we set them on a foundation of existing fear, we need to ask what they say about us.
HG Wells revealed the terrible nature of social classes with the Morlocks of The Time Machine. His monsters reveal to us that placing half of society below our feet will ultimately lead to our destruction.
Tolkien’s Nazgul in The Lord of the Rings speak to us of our addiction to power and how it can consume us, leaving us hollow slaves.
And the Duffers' character Dr. Martin Brenner forces us to stop and think about what we unleash when we sacrifice morality in the pursuit of the next great weapon to help us defeat our political rivals.
If our monsters reveal something about ourselves, they will be truly terrifying.
The Makings of Memorable Monsters Are at Your Fingertips
You have all the fodder you need to create memorable monsters in your own daily life and secret fears. Draw on your own experiences and twist regular creatures into vivid beasts, and you'll create monsters that will lurk in the darkest shadows of your readers' imaginations long after they put your story down.
What memorable monsters are branded into your imagination? Let me know in the comments.
PRACTICE
For today's challenge, build a monster.
Take fifteen minutes to write a monster using the three traits we discussed above: first, hold a mirror up and find something terrible about ourselves we don’t want to see. Then set a foundation for your monster on an existing fear. Finally, give your monster shape by taking something mundane and making it grotesque.
When you've created your fearsome beast, share your fiendish practice in the comments below. Give us a memorable monster, and we will talk about your story long after we’ve read it.
Love the monster article. i have one question. How scary could a picture book monster be?
Could or should? It’s a small distinction, but as a parent who’s been through tons of children’s picture books it’s an important one. There are a ton of cute monsters, but I haven’t seen a decently scary picture book monster since I was a kid.
Should I take that as a challenge and try to come up with one? What picture books were scary when you were a kid? How scary is decently scary without parents refusing to buy your book, because it would give junior nightmares?
I can’t think of any, though the cautionary tales of childhood (Little Red Riding Hood, Goldilocks, etc) were illustrated with far more sinister and terrifying versions of their “villains” than we see now. Even the illustrations of more enjoyable stories seemed less concerned with making things seem nice and fun.
I think when you cross too close to what a parent fears is when you lose their children as an audience.
Yes, Grimm’s fairy tales were often violent and gruesome. Kids today would love them, but would their parents buy books like that today?
I would, but I can’t call that market with any conviction.
great info, thank you!
Both of his eyes is on top of his head. He has no hair but his nose and mouth shifted upward. His teeth is unorganized. It is nearly impossible to know whether it is a she or he, because the abnormal human is wearing half woman and man clothes.
He is like a ghost who appear and disappear especially at night. Simple appear usually the moment when you almost going into sleep but not yet. You will feeling there is someone touching your feet. The images keep flashing in your mind. If he/she likes you, he/she will lay on top of you to pressurize you.
The origin of his/her existing is because of human chemical waste in the river. The water of the river is being consumed by the villages around it. This abnormal human is being born defected and being killed by the villages because of the abnormal feature of his face. It becomes villages nightmare.
Having immensely enjoyed the last several articles Jeff has shared, I again ate this up. Time to practice a monster (which is just another twist on a villain).
What is more terrible than the evil that lurks, even in a good man’s soul? The thoughts and desires that even the most upright wrestle with in the arena of the mind. Think Mr. Hyde. To simply act on the most base desires of humanity with no regard for those around us is terrifying to consider.
Humanity has always feared the dark. But is it really the dark or is it the unknown that is past the dark? That which the darkness hides. Knowing that around the next corner, lurking in the shadow is not only that which can hurt you, but that thing that can scar your very soul.
That which is common (man) and yet not a man. With arms that are too long, shoulders that are too broad, and a jawline that is too pronounced. Something more like a gorilla than a man, and yet those eyes, those luminescent yellow eyes that are alight with greed, hatred, and the unmistakable glint of intelligence bent on carnal fulfillment. You close your eyes in attempt to let your brain rationalize the creature away, but the scent of rotting flesh is carried on its hot breath that rolls over you in waves. Clenching your hands to hide the tremor that has entered them unbidden, you feel the heavy hands clamp down on your shoulders. The sheer force of the grip starts to bruise them and a scream of pain escapes yours lips.
It is too much to stand with your eyes closed now. The unknown has become more terrifying than whatever has you in its grip. Your lids race open and you are greeted by broad, peg like teeth spread in a terrible crooked grin. A bulbous nose that could be mistaken for some kind of growth juts out beneath those yellow eyes. You feel the pressure slaken for a moment as the creature starts to pull you apart. Your spine shudders and pops as it is pulled in opposite directions. As you scream again the creature laughs over the top of your scream in a gibbering voice far higher than you would suspect.
In a moment it’s over and you jolt upright in your bed, awakened by your own screams. You fumble with the bedside lamp for five eternal seconds. The sudden flash of light shows your own reflection in your mirrored closet doors, though you are certain, for the first moment, it was the creatures reflection there.
‘What is more terrible than the evil that lurks, even in a good man’s soul?’ Agree. I didn’t think of Mr Hyde when reading Jeff’s post, it’s a good example to bring up. Didn’t find your description that unnerving, I think it’s too similar to existing descriptions of Mr Hyde. My favourite line was your last – ‘though you are certain, for the first moment, it was the creature’s reflection there’. It brings out your theme of evil lurking within a good man’s soul.
You are correct. In my defence, I don’t do horror, terror, or scary in almost any capacity. This was a stretch write for me.
Thanks for the solid critique.
He woke up one night to a thumping at his window. Thinking it was merely a loose branch or a confused rodent, he pulled himself up and out of the bed and pulled open the curtain, where he found himself staring into a thick white fog. Frowning, the man opened the window, and shuddered as a thick blanket of frigid air rolled into his bedroom. He shut the window, shivering, and ran smack into the figure.
It was about six feet tall- the same height as the young man – and from the neck down it looked like a human. In fact, it was wearing the suit the man had worn to the office that day. Its features were indistinguishable from the neck up, as its head was surrounded by the thick white fog. It moved its chin downwards when the man collided with it, and if it had eyes they would have been staring straight into the young man’s. It didn’t move, it didn’t touch him. It simply regarded him with cold indifference as the man’s heart took off like a bullet.
“What are you?” he asked of it, his voice trembling.
The figure didn’t respond, but moved away from the man and stood in the corner. The young man mustered up as much courage and bravado as he could and asked again, “What. Are. You.”
The figure folded its arms and a soft, incoherent whisper filled the room.
The young man covered his ears and backed into the wall. “Stop,” he pleaded, “I beg of you, please, stop.”
The figure tilted its head, and the whispering grew to a soft murmur. The room grew colder, and smaller. The mist around its head drifted towards the man in smoky tendrils, wrapping around his arms and legs. His lungs began to burn as the temperature continued to drop.
“Stop, I beg of you, please,stop.”
The raspy voice sounded clearly in the man’s left ear as cold air rolled down his neck. The man shuddered and tried to back away, but found that he couldn’t move.
“I do not understand.” the voice mused. The man blinked and suddenly the room was gone, and everything was dark. The figure walked towards the man, stopping a few feet away. “I do not understand.” it repeated, reaching towards him. It reached inside of the man and pulled out his heart. The man felt nothing. The figure turned it over once, twice, thrice, as shards of ice began to creep across the red surface. It seemed to sigh as it handed the heart, now frozen, back to the young man.
“But you will understand.”
The man awoke the next morning in his bed, his windows shut, and his curtains drawn. He laid there for awhile, contemplating the last night’s events. He placed his hand over his heart and found it was still beating. He sat up and looked in the mirror, but saw nothing. Frowning, he tapped on the glass, and rubbed his eyes, and still found nothing there. The man turned towards the doorway when he saw movement in the reflection, and saw himself, smiling from the other side. His arm raised and waved, moved by an unseen force.
“Now you understand.” The reflection said, and the man’s lips moved with it. It raised a hand mirror, and the young man saw a ring of mist where his head was supposed to be. The man threw himself against the mirror, and his reflection sighed and turned away.
“Now you understand.” it repeated, and left the room.
Wow that sounds great
Nice
Very unnerving! Liked the reveal at the end. Some small things that confused me though. ‘Its features were indistinguishable from the neck up, as its head was surrounded by the thick white fog.’ Do you mean its features were indistinguishable from the man’s – i.e. the creature looks identical to him, or indistinguishable as in he could not see them, but only the fog?
And choose either ‘man’ or ‘young man’. When you first mentioned ‘the young man’ in para two, I wondered if there was another man I should know about.
Great concept, this could work as a short story if you developed it further!
Ooh now this is interesting. I liked how you confused the reader when Mist-head said “I do not understand.” “But you will understand.” And then later gave the horrifying revelation that our protagonist has become Mist-head, and, as Misthead put it, “Now you understand.”
I would have preferred some “Show don’t tell when Mist-head took out the man’s heart, but aside from that a great little story!
He wasn’t a monster he was just a human. But that’s what made him a monster. Every time you looked in his eyes you saw all you feared. Funny how someone can have that effect on you right?
Plz tell me how this sounds and also if u have any ideas on where the story should go next
Perhaps this monstrous human is a very influential human, who has commited atrocious crimes under his friendly mask, which makes it seem impossible that he has done something horrendous. A wolf in sheep’s clothing, a monster among men. And perhaps our protagonist falls into his clutches, and what is more terrifying that being trapped by a madman that everyone thinks is an angel?
Magneto from X men described himself as Frankenstein’s monster, and he was a fantastic villain because his rage came from the fact that the Nazis killed his parents. The Phantom from Phantom of the Opera became a monster because people ridiculed him. Good monsters or villains often have good backstories.
She raised her head and the skull-thing filled her vision.
It was just like her nightmare. Broken inside, but smooth with candle wax flesh. It was tall, and long, and stretched out. The suit and hat it wore were old-fashioned, frayed and dusty and bleached. A gentleman’s suit.
She decided this particular monster did not deserve to be called that.
It was freakishly still as it stood over her. Bent head, straight spine. Its hollow eye-sockets were shadowed by a hat, but she could see they were sealed with wax. The black teeth were still bone. Still grinning,
It reached for her, and finally, Rose screamed.
What I found creepiest about this piece was the gentleman’s suit and its eye-sockets being filled with wax. Skeletons aren’t scary, but skeletons that dress up like gentlemen are. The wax unnerves me because eye mutilation is freaky.
What attracts people to horror fiction is that they feel a touch of risk and adventure which pumps their adrenaline, but still stay in their safety zone, just peek out, not overly exposed.
Have been working so hard on expelling my evil spirits, not sure if I could come up with something truly spooky, maybe mystic or weird:
”And there again it was. This time hanging from the lamp, with slimy numerous limbs, no fingers or toes, just wavy claws arranged at irregular patterns, clutching to the rod, and goggling at mine with its an appalling, grinning, toad-like face.
By now, there is no dilemma, my thoughts are being materialized. Yeah, I know, they always are, as those New Age books wisely teach us, but this instantly??? Has it sprung from too much potatoing (left this in spite of the spell check and English not being my mother tongue :/ ) on the couch and watching and hearing about all the murders that go on every day.
Well, thank god, there are flowers and elves and cute fairies as well. I will try to raise my awareness and produce them more often.
Or am I getting crazy. So, what, I won’t tell anybody. Being crazy is OK, only sharing it with others (at least not too many others is not)”
Oh, I have exceeded the time limit a bit.
(at least not too many others) is not.
and of course no ”an” between ”its” and ”appalling”
Hi Jeff, great post. Loved your previous post to on creating a memorable villain too. Although I have the same question, would you have any tips on how to apply this to more realistic forms of fiction? If I’m not writing a horror novel, how can I use your advice?
To me the most memorable ‘monster’ is Annie Wilkes from Stephen King’s ‘misery’. A nurse living alone is mundane, but not if her patients and family members have a history of unexplained deaths, and she is more than willing to amputate the body parts of people who disagree with her. Being based on an existing fear – that we could go missing and nobody would know where we were. Showing us something about ourselves – that our society is so disconnected that we could go missing and no one would realise, or that a psycho killer could go undetected among us.
Could you elaborate on monsters that ‘show us something about ourselves’? Right now I interpret this as monsters which reveal something about the protagonist. I like villains who are twisted versions of the protagonist. Eg Harry Potter and Lord Voldemort are both orphans who grew up in dysfunctional homes and felt like nobodies. So Voldemort as a character highlights the choices that Harry makes. (Would you consider ‘monster’ and ‘villain’ as synonymous in realistic fiction?)
My current protagonist is afraid of being rejected by others. She’s insecure about her self-worth and so needs others’ approval, which she tries to get through working hard and being self-sacrificial for the team. The conflict comes because one person sacrificing themselves all the time can hurt the team’s performance as a whole. I’m not sure how to craft a villain based on this fear of my protag.
Perhaps her villain is a member of the team or the coach who constantly undermines her self worth and makes her feel useless, driving her to more and more reckless acts, each one endangering her life more and more. Perhaps the team begins to turn on her due to her erratic, reckless and dangerous behavior that damages the team as a whole (as you mentioned), which perhaps drives her deeper into the rabbit hole until she can realize only she can determine her self worth and that she needs no ones approval but herself to consider herself “good enough”. But as they say, you need to break a few eggs before you make an omelette.
Thanks Pedro! Good ideas I can work with.
I know I’m late to the party, but an even *worse* villain would twist everyone else around their finger, too, so that while the team is turning on her, they’re idolizing the villain. Add to this the possibility that your villain is clever enough not to get caught undermining your protag and you’ve got a trifecta of pain & heartbreak. It’s so awful because it can really happen and it’ll cut your protag off from her friends & support team all the more if she needs their approval and love and instead gets their disdain, while giving the approval and love that she needs to the person responsible for her downfall. It could also come to an end when just one person sees what’s happening (a past victim or a witness to the villain’s… well, villainy) and mounts a rescue (speaking as someone who thirsts for the approval of those around her, sometimes it’s really hard to believe in your own worth without a little help).
(I nearly puked when I wrote this.)
A gray kitten – cute, except in place of its eyes are globs of what resemble dead maggots, yellowish and wet, looking as if they will drop out of the kitten’s eye sockets from sheer rot.
It’s nestled in gentle arms: its owner, probably. Nobody seems to notice the eyes. People are even taking pictures of it, petting its head, their fingers coming close to those disgusting eyes.
When it moves its head, the thought comes to me: can it see? When its nose points at me, can those evil eyes see me? They’re hypnotic in their horror; I can’t stop staring at those rotten pieces of flesh.
Why am I seeing this? How did the kitten’s eyes get like that?
Some disease, I thought. Or a parasite, born from the eggs of a passing housefly…
Who did this? Who blinded the kitten?
Was it me?
I have thought for ours, but could not come up with any monsters which are not actually ridiculous or already exist in other famous works. 🙁
Well, you don’t necessarily have to start from scratch when you create a monster. You could take a classical monster and give it your own spin. Dragons are a popular example, since throughout games, stories, movies, and series dragons are portrayed in many, many different ways despite all of the various interpretations falling into the category “Dragon.” You can also base your monsters on emotions like greed, hatred, lust or other dark emotions, or you could base your monster on a monster archetype, such as cannibals, shapeshifters, cryptids, serpents (like dragons and sea beasts), Subhumans, Synthetic, Ancient beings, or aliens.
Fear is the greatest emotion. The only true one that stays with us forever. Love wanes, fear is forever. That fear of spiders will always be there; heights, snakes, loneliness, flying. The emotion we show when we fall in love; in time it will dissipate. I’ve written a short story based on this very fact and I believe it fully; a story of fear as though it were a living entity that feeds on the fear of others.
As mentioned the best monsters are those that could actually exist as Stella points out with Annie Wilkes. As children we all believe in ghouls and vampires etc, but as adults we discover new ‘monsters’ that could take away what we most treasure; the burglar who decides that maybe he’s not content with just your jewellery or money, maybe he stands at the foot of your bed while you sleep and looks lustfully at your wife; the woman who can’t have children and wants one for her own, no matter what it takes; Stephen King’s Cujo where a huge St.Bernard becomes rabid; Clive Barker wrote a story called ‘Rawhead Rex’, a monster unleashed from the ground that preys on kids. Never happen of course, but who knows what lays deep in the mining grounds, just waiting for release.
The real monsters are all out there somewhere. Give them a touch of the supernatural and well… maybe when you’re alone on a windy, stormy night and the lights go out…
Hi Jeff,
My imaginary monsters are ghosts, supernatural scary, invisible, mean, horrendous beings, and invisible spooks who are watching through the glass panes of closed windows.
I find it easy to create a story with any of the above but I must be careful not to be absurd incase it becomes unbelievable.
One way to avoid it seeming absurd, for me is using children as the protagonists. As a 12/13 year old, I was CONVINCED that my mother for some reason was going to become a demon or zombie and eat me while I slept. Why? You tell me. One night I fell out of bed and it took at least 10 minutes to find the courage to get up. As soon as I went to bed each night, it became a living torture. Remembering this I wrote a story about it using these experiences. Of course, if it had been an adult, it would seem silly, but as a kid, it seemed to work quite well. As it happens, in the story, the boy eventually dies of fright when his mother comes into his room one night for whatever reason and wakes him up. Good fun writing it!!
A good idea, Justin, to use children as protagonists. I’ll try my hand at it for the ‘creepy, scary’ story I have in my head.
Your story about the boy dying when his mother comes into the room is definitely original with an unexpected ending.
Thanks for your suggestion, which I appreciate.
(Oh good golly gumdrops am I nervous about this. I’m usually too shy to post since my work is not really any good. This exercise looked really good, though, so I’m giving this a shot. I’m trying to get over this shyness by practicing and commenting more often.)
They are called Whisper Bugs, she says. Little creatures, not much bigger than a speck of dandruff and the same color too. They walk on little legs that hold tight and never let go, even in death. It’s hard to tell when they are on you, because all you can feel is a light tickling sensation.
Just a little itch before they bite.
If you get bitten, and you best hope you never do, then there is nothing to help you.
Whisper bugs- they like to make their home in people’s ears. It’s nice and warm and damp at times. Plus, there’s plenty of food for them. All sorts of little sounds and vibrations that go through which they eat up with glee.
They are called Whisper Bugs, she says. Little creatures, not much bigger than a speck of dandruff and the same color too. They are called such because they whisper in your ear. Their little voices sound like the one in the back of your mind and they whisper to you. They take all those noises they eat and whisper it back to you.
“How awful.” “What were you thinking?” “You’ll just make things worse.” “Look at what you’ve done.” “You should just stay out of the way.” “It’d be better if you weren’t here.”
They whisper, and whisper, and they never seem to stop. Their little voices seem so loud sometimes, so very loud as they cloud over your mind. So loud, that sometimes it’s easy to mistake them for reality.
They are called Whisper Bugs, she says. Little creatures, not much bigger than a speck of dandruff and the same color too. They whisper and whisper and nothing can get them out. If one dies, there’s another to take its place. It will crawl right back in and bite and never come back out.
“Not good enough.” “Failure.” “Disappointment.” “Should have done better.”
Only a little tickle and an itch are your warnings.
I really liked this. The repetition helped to build the suspense.
Creepy and telling!
Most comments are paragraphed essays! Sure, this is a writer’s space 😀
Jeff, thanks for giving me a structure to convert the everyday into the sublime.
Damini had that strange feeling in her tongue. Something was not right. She rubbed her eyes in a lame effort to drink in what was around her. ‘Where is my bed? Where’s my alarm clock? Where am I? Is this a dream?’ She slowly let the waking reality sink in. As the dim light entered her mind through her scrunched gaze, the weird forms that lurked on the wall let themselves be seen.
‘Get out of here. Don’t let them get to you. Act sane. Kill the next man to enter the door.’
As a sudden shot of reality gushed through her head, a shock of electrified saliva flooded her throat and she almost choked. Gagged. And spat out bile in a forward collapse. She was wearing a strange overall that she remembered seeing only seniors and sick people wear. ‘Where are the windows in this room?’ There was one, precariously placed in between the odd graffiti that has been taunting her from the wall. Only that the window was dark and starless. A trembling knee to the cold, dilapidated mattress, and another palm on the icy floor, she crawled to the window with her drool stretching a yarn of trail in her wake.
‘This is all you would get to do today. Ever.’
‘Who’s that? Never mind. Get to the window. Get out of here.’ As she scrambled to her feet, she saw a haggard form rise with her. A weathered old woman who face was melting in the horror of a realization. She wasn’t thirty any more. The wrinkles and the freckles showed a balding witch with a yellow fanged mouth. Her face was full of scratches, old and new. She felt for the drying scab in the snug compartments between skin and nail in her fingers. This window of reality couldn’t do justice to the tragedy of realization. Damini randomly punched the mirror, panting, swearing ungodly syllables through her melting mouth. But the mirror did not break. ‘Of course!’
‘You will never get out of here.’
Damini craved to wake up. But she wouldn’t. She was stuck in a cell with the sudden realization of her years of madness. She started laughing a laugh without mirth, a terrible laugh that echoed forever, without a window to escape.
Monster’s – Hannibal, loved his sense of style. The clown in Stephen King’s It. Vlad – the Real Dracula. Monster’s live amongst us. 🙂 Terrific article – I have other monsters I appreciate, but just selected a diverse trio.
Cats, man. Cats are so fucking weird. Right now, my white and ginger feline is staring into a corner. Wide-eyed and tail-twitching. There is nothing there. No insects, no mice, no reflections or shadows. But intently she stares. Her eyes track around the area, following something unseen.
Something unseen? Not for the first time, I wonder if cats can see things we can’t. Again I wonder, if insects can see ultraviolet light, and bats can see with sound, what are we missing?
I turn back to my puzzle. But the thought continues in my head. Just because we can’t see something, doesn’t mean it can’t hurt us. The wind from a tornado is unseen, yet causes massive destruction. What if cats are our only clue that something is lurking? People disappear all the time, never to be found again. What if our closest companions are our only warning?
My eyes shift nervously to the corner again. She is still staring. A low growl emanates from her throat. I kick the table leg to break the tension. She doesn’t even react to the sound. Stop being silly. I tell myself. I fit another piece into the puzzle. Another growl. Lower this time, I can barely hear it. It really doesn’t sound like my cat. She really must be worked up. It goes on for 5 seconds, lower and lower. My eyes lock onto the scattered puzzle pieces, searching for a match. A hiss breaks across the growling. Startled, I look up. The air is growling, rending, tearing. The awful sound of the fabric of reality ripping. The walls, the floor, the space seem to be warping and twisting as a clawed appendage reaches out of that horrible hole toward me. In the corner of my eye, I can see my cat- ears back, hissing. She stands on a floor that is more real than anything around me. Far away and getting fainter. The cacophony stops.
A white and ginger cat stares pensively at the corner of the room, alone.
I sigh. Another late night, stuck on a chat-room. I glance at the clock. Oh, boy. I take off my glasses and rub my grainy eyes. Why on earth do I do this to mys—-
What was that?
I freeze, mid-rub. Was that a… sigh? I could have sworn—
Aha. No. I must just be tired. It’s probably just one of the kids, turning over in their sleep in the next room. I open my eyes and smile awkwardly to myself, letting my hand drop. I’m just beat after reading all of those comments. I laugh shakily at myself. Oh, Meg. You should go to be—
There it was again! I freeze again, feeling my body seize in shock. Just for a moment, I could have sworn that someone was behind me. My back feels oddly cold – not unusual at midnight on such a frostbitten night, but it feels… wrong. Just all wrong. And I could have sworn that I heard a sigh earlier. My heart is in my throat. Who is in here with me?
I frown at myself and wonder if I’ve been listening to too many episodes of The Black Tapes. Yeah. That must be it. Ha. Honestly, Meg – you should know better than to—
A warm breath brushes against my ear, moist air hitting the back of my neck.
I scream. Or at least, I try to. Turns out that that’s hard to do when you’re choking on cheese-wire and staring into the doll-like eyes of what appears to be an eleven-year-old girl who apparently can walk right through concrete walls. Who knew, right?