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The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/Sudden-Zombie9098 on 2024-09-15 01:16:59+00:00.

It was a bitterly cold night in 2018 when I moved into an old, weathered house deep in the countryside. The kind of house where the nearest neighbor was miles away and the nights were so quiet you could hear your own heartbeat. This place had a reputation in the nearby village—people whispered that it was haunted, but I dismissed it as just another old wives’ tale meant to scare off city folk like me.

The first few nights passed uneventfully. The house was drafty, the floors creaked with every step, but nothing out of the ordinary happened. That was until the fifth night, when everything changed.

I was settled in the living room, reading by the dim light of a single lamp. The wind howled outside, rattling the windows, but I paid it no mind, absorbed in my book. Suddenly, a faint scratching noise broke the silence, coming from the ceiling above me. I paused, listening intently, but the sound ceased as abruptly as it had begun. I chalked it up to a rat or some other small creature, though unease began to creep in. But then, the scratching returned, louder this time, as if nails were being dragged across wood.

I stood up, my heart beginning to race. The scratching moved, traveling from the ceiling to the walls, circling the room. It was as if something was trapped behind the wallpaper, desperately trying to break free. Panic set in, but I fought to stay calm. I grabbed a broom and banged it against the wall, shouting, “Get out! Get out of here!”

The noise stopped, and the house fell into an oppressive silence. I took a deep breath, convinced it was over, but then the lights flickered, and the temperature in the room plummeted. I could see my breath in the air, forming a mist. The rancid odor that followed was unbearable—like rotting meat.

The stench was overwhelming, making me gag. I covered my nose, but the smell seemed to seep into my skin, clinging to me. I stumbled back, my eyes watering, and that’s when I saw it.

In the darkest corner of the room, something was moving. At first, it was just a shape—a dark mass growing, stretching toward me. As it came closer, I saw it was a figure—tall and twisted, with long, gnarled limbs and eyes that glowed like embers in the dark.

It moved with unnatural speed, closing the distance between us in seconds. I tried to scream, but no sound came out. I was paralyzed with fear, unable to move as it reached out with one bony hand, its fingers ending in sharp, black claws.

The creature’s face was inches from mine now, its breath hot and putrid against my skin. It grinned, revealing rows of jagged teeth, and whispered in a voice that was both a hiss and a growl, “You shouldn’t have come here.”

The room spun, and I felt myself being pulled into the darkness, into the creature’s cold, unrelenting embrace. I fought to stay conscious, but it was like being drowned in ink—suffocating and cold. The last thing I remember before everything went black was the sound of my own heartbeat, pounding in my ears.

When I woke up the next morning, I was on the floor, the room filled with sunlight. The creature was gone, but the smell lingered faintly. My body ached, and when I looked in the mirror, I saw deep, red scratches down my arms and neck, as though I had been clawed by something.

I couldn’t stay in that house another night. I packed my things and left, not caring where I went as long as it was far from that place. I never discovered what that creature was or why it targeted me, but I know one thing for certain—I’ll never forget those glowing eyes or the pure, unrelenting terror that accompanied them.

To this day, I still feel like something is watching me, lurking in the shadows, waiting for the right moment to strike again. And I’m terrified that next time, I might not be able to escape.