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The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/lionheart3000 on 2024-09-19 06:02:45+00:00.

It’s been two days, and I can’t remember ever being so unsure about anything in my life. Google seemed pointless, my bank account couldn’t support a visit, and I exhausted all the forums I could find to no avail. My home life was in shambles, and my work life wasn’t far behind.

Trying to get a grip, I splashed water on my face. I looked at the door, then down at the floor. A small shadow slowly crept up, filling the light-filled gap with darkness.

In the silence of my home, the only sound I could hear was a beat. My heart pounded as if it might leap out of my chest. Then the scratching started—slow, taunting, each swipe drawing closer to the door.

The sound of claws methodically peeling through the wood sent shivers down my spine.

“Stop, Marlon!” I yelled, watching the shadow under the door slowly back away, but not fade.

Grabbing a towel off the rack, I dried my still-wet face. This was not the time to lose my cool. I’d done this a hundred times; tonight would be no different. Giving myself what should’ve been an unnecessary pep talk only made me feel more uneasy.

Looking at the floor again was an obvious mistake. The shadow paced back and forth in front of the door, and in the silence of my apartment, I could hear his panting. Every step he took seemed to vibrate through the bathroom. That pep talk felt more useless than ever. I turned my gaze to the toilet.

I realized I hadn’t used the bathroom since I’d come in. Maybe that could ease the tension and help me settle down for bed. Tomorrow was a big day, and I had to get some rest. Glancing at my watch, it showed 22:45.

Standing in front of the toilet, I tried to relieve myself, knowing full well there was nothing to relieve. I was just going through the motions. Shaking my head, I realized my procrastination was getting the better of me.

Zipping up my pants and turning back to the sink, it felt like déjà vu. Once again, I was ready to splash my face with water. Glancing at the floor, the shadow was gone. Only the hallway light shone through the gap.

With a gulp for reassurance, I grabbed the door handle and opened it. The door slammed into the doorstop and bounced back,

almost hitting me. I quickly grabbed it and peered out to see if the coast was clear.

My bedroom door was open, and the lights were still on as I had left them. I saw no sign of Marlon, so I quietly tiptoed to my room. As soon as I felt the carpet under my feet, I slammed the door shut and heard his paws skidding across the hardwood, racing toward my door.

Almost simultaneously, Marlon threw his body against the door just as I locked it and leaned against it for extra defense. The next thud pushed me off the door momentarily, and I scrambled back to brace myself against it.

Another thud hit the door, but this time it only moved me an inch or two. My feet felt as if they were rooted to the carpet.

“That’s it, Marlon! I’m not playing with you—go to bed!” I yelled, trying to put some authority in my voice, sliding my hand back on the door.

That was the most I dared to do, fearing to truly invoke his wrath. Marlon slowly paced outside the door. His tail tapped the door with every pass he made. I pressed my back against the door, ready for the next impact, but it never came.

I slowly backed away from the door, not letting it out of my sight as I made my way to the bed. My heart raced, and I knew that wasn’t going to help me sleep. Sliding into bed, I pulled the covers up and adjusted my pillows. If I didn’t know my age, I’d think I was a kid still afraid of the boogeyman.

Except I’m not a child. The boogeyman is real and outside my door, in the form of my best friend trying to get inside me. Slapping myself back into reality seemed like the only thing left to do, but my hands refused to move from gripping the covers.

Closing my eyes, I tried to calm myself. I envisioned my presentation in the morning to the partners. I’d been rehearsing it all week, practicing the Q&A section. Now, I just needed some rest.

As I stood in front of the partners and other associates, speaking, a weird feeling crept over me, like something was wrong. All eyes were on me, unblinking. Silence filled the room, except for my voice. I glanced at Rob, our newest assistant, and instantly sensed something was off.

Rob wasn’t using his cellphone. That thing is usually glued to his palm. He’s a junior associate, yet he acts as if he’s already made partner, always busy with his phone, every call so important. But now, he gave me the attention he usually reserved for his phone, and it sent chills up my spine.

That’s when I noticed the sweat dripping off him. His shirt was soaked, the wet spot visible through his jacket. They all were sweating as if trapped in a sauna, every single one of them. It looked like they’d just played full-court basketball in their suits and come straight to work. Not one of them wiped their brow, fanned themselves, or even took a sip of water.

Even Suzanne, our meeting stenographer, sat in her seat in the corner, her hands over the typewriter without hitting a key, sweating, her eyes locked on me like a torpedo in the water. Frazzled by the bizarre scene, I started to stutter and looked toward the exit.

Elliot Marcus, one of our senior partners, stood straight up from his chair. It flew back, crashing into the office wall with a thud, leaving an imprint as it slowly rolled away. He was always the gym rat of the office, an Armenian refugee from the circus, we used to joke at the coffee pot.

He strutted around the office, showing off his muscles, stacking chairs, lifting them, or asking for critiques on his poses. In the courtroom, his stature matched his wits and law knowledge. Elliot was a force to be reckoned with, and now he was walking right toward me, with that blank stare in his eyes that somehow felt menacing.

I don’t know why—I’m not usually like this—but I grabbed the first thing I could touch and hurled it at him. It happened to be another empty chair at the table. Without even flinching, the chair hit him square in the face. Blood began to ooze from his nose, and that scared me even more than him not stopping, even more than the room’s continued staring and sweating.

The blood was as black as obsidian. I bolted for the door, keeping it in my peripheral vision. Elliot leaped across the table like a gazelle clearing a fence. The force knocked me against the wall, and he pinned me there.

That’s when I saw it. Everything before made sense. My initial worry turned into genuine fear. My worst nightmare had left my home and was now in the world. Worse than that—it was at my job, inside my coworkers.

Inside the lens of Elliot’s eye was that white ring that wasn’t a ring. It was more like a silver or very opaque tiny worm. I’d never gotten close enough to examine it in detail, but I knew what was coming next, and I desperately tried to avoid it. Elliot’s hands felt like iron clamps, locking me against the wall.

I jerked my head back and forth, refusing to stare into his face, looking for anything to grab that might free me before the inevitable. His sweaty hands felt gross—like grabbing a toad, rough but slimy. Elliot released my right hand and immediately grabbed my throat, straightening my face and choking me.

That blank stare in his eyes and the little worm floating around in there locked me in terror. Elliot’s mouth began to open, his jaw unlocking. I couldn’t scream because I could barely breathe with his hands around my neck.

Then that ring, that worm, or parasite floated to the bottom of his lens almost lifeless. Six long, white, almost luminescent tentacles emerged from Elliot’s mouth, slowly reaching for my face. The more I fought, the tighter his grip became. I had to fight—I couldn’t let this thing get me like this.

I used my free hand and bashed Elliot’s face repeatedly to no avail. Just before it latched onto my face, I used my last bit of strength and let out a scream.

Jumping up in my bed, I realized I must’ve dozed off. My sheets and clothes were soaked. I looked at the clock on my nightstand; it read 2:45. I had to get up and try to dry off. I still needed to get back to sleep. Maybe some tea would settle my mind, but looking at my door, I almost immediately changed my mind.

Sitting in the darkness with a million thoughts flying through my brain, I couldn’t help but think about when this all started—last weekend. It seemed like a normal Saturday. Marlon and I went to the dog park. But that day, I just had an eerie feeling inside.

The dog park on Saturdays was usually bustling. Marlon almost always had a handful of playmates. I was actually shocked that Buster and Bob weren’t there. They were dog park regulars. If I couldn’t expect to see anyone else, I knew I’d see Bob. But last Saturday, the park was completely empty.

Marlon also seemed apprehensive about going in at first. I figured it was because he’d be stuck playing fetch with me. Looking back, I wish I’d picked up on his hesitation and gone with my first instinct to head back home. But we pushed on, and after a little leash fight, we were through the gates and into the park.

As soon as I unhooked him, Marlon took off across the field and into the tree line. There was a small rustle in the bushes, and Marlon let out a cry I’d never heard from him before. He retreated from the bushes by the time I reached him. At first, I thought it was maybe a squirrel or worse—a skunk. Checking him thoroughly and sniffing hi…

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