And there I was, lying in my bed, in the house where I was raised, suspecting nothing. I thought it was just a normal winter's day.

I woke up because of the white light coming from the window beside my bed. It was so bright and alluring that I was drawn closer and closer to it. Until I found myself at the window, pushing it open to the white light. Some might call it heaven, but in my case, it was a world filled with a snow-like blanket and a chilling breeze that swung my way, making my whole body tremble. I sighed deeply, watching as my cloud of breath formed in the crisp air. Before me, the white world slowly came to life, as birds and other animals awoke, their soft movements beginning to stir the stillness. The outside world, once so silent and serene, now buzzed softly with the delicate awakening of life, as the frost-covered landscape shimmered in the early morning light.

I smiled as I closed the window that had filled my room with a cold breeze and headed downstairs. Smiling as I headed downstairs. But on my way to the kitchen, I realized something wasn't right. The house felt empty, yet it was filled with flashbacks of the life I had lived in it. But I brushed it off, thinking I wasn't fully awake, though that unsettling feeling lingered. The air felt thick, almost heavy, and shadows seemed to stretch longer than they should. A strange stillness clung to the house as if it were holding its breath, waiting for something to happen. I went downstairs and noticed the mirror on the living room wall was broken, yet there was no glass on the floor. I paused, finding it strange, almost unnerving. As I stared into the shattered fragments, I saw myself reflected in every broken piece—each one showing a different version of me, as if I were looking at my younger self through fractured moments. I was shocked to see how the years have treated me, but I smiled at the moments of joy I remembered. I passed by it, and it felt as if I was being watched by unseen eyes. It was unsettling, sure, a strange tension hanging in the air, almost suffocating anything breathing, but I brushed it aside—I wasn’t about to let that ruin my morning, which felt both cold and warm in an odd way. The quiet felt heavy like unseen eyes were lingering just out of view. But then my mood lifted as I spotted the coffee waiting on the table, a familiar comfort. When I reached into the cupboard for cream, my hand brushed against a box of pancake mix, that looked like it had been there for a while, sparking an idea that brought an unexpected spark of joy. As I set the box of pancake mix

down, I decided to lighten the mood by turning on the radio. The announcer's voice crackled through the speakers: "Well, folks, it looks like there will be heavy snow in the next few hours, so we advise you to stay home, cuddle up with a loved one by the fire, and enjoy some Christmas songs. Have a wonderful time and make the most of your day. Good day to you!" "Softly, Christmas music began to play, filling the room with warmth. The tension faded as I stood there, sensing the snow’s quiet approach. With a sigh, I reached for the pancake mix, thinking today might turn out perfect. I started to dance and sing to the music while making pancakes, and the scent of batter filled the kitchen. Once heavy with silence, it felt like the house had come alive again, regaining its spirit of joy. The warmth of the music, the soft rhythm of my steps, and the promise of snow outside brought a comforting sense of peace that wrapped around me like a familiar hug.

Yet this moment of happiness did not last long. A fierce wind howled as it burst open the window with a crash, sending the shutters clattering. The room, once bathed in warmth and soft light, was now invaded by a biting chill. Cold air rushed in, carrying flurries of snow that swirled in the air like restless spirits, settling on the floor in icy patches. The comforting glow of the fire flickered, struggling against the sudden intrusion of winter’s wrath. The sudden burst made me jump, as I wasn’t expecting this to happen at all. I left the ready packets on a plate, turned off the stove, and hurried to grab a broom, trying to clean up the mess that had unfolded. Snowflakes now dusted the floor, a stark reminder of the chaos that had so suddenly disturbed the quiet warmth of the room. As I was cleaning up the mess, a sudden gust of wind blew my way—a cold wind, yet strangely laced with warmth and an unsettling sense of uncertainty. It brushed against my face and tangled in my hair as I turned, sending a shiver through me that wasn’t entirely from the cold. The air seemed to hum with something unspoken as if the wind carried whispers from an unseen world. Shadows flickered in the dim light, and for a moment, it felt as though the room itself held its breath, waiting for something unknown to reveal itself.

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I ignored it, deciding it wasn’t meant for me but for something—or someone—else. With a firm push, I shut the window, sealing out the gusts of wind and whatever strange presence they carried. I sat down to eat breakfast, trying to shake off the unease. Yet, the silence lingered. No sign of friends or family, the house unnervingly still, as if the world outside had drawn its breath and forgotten to exhale.

The radio was still playing, though the cheerful Christmas tunes had faded. Now, old childhood songs filled the air—melodies once forgotten, but now resurrected, stirring something deep within. A wave of nostalgia washed over me, so vivid that memories from that time came rushing back, flooding my senses. Each note seemed to unlock a moment from the past, weaving together fragments of innocence and warmth, making me feel both comforted and strangely melancholic. I sat there, seemingly at peace, yet deep down I knew something was wrong. This was no ordinary day—I could feel it. The wind knew it, the quiet outside seemed to know it, and the world beyond the window felt strangely aware of it too. A subtle tension hung in the air as if the day itself was holding a secret, waiting for the right moment to reveal it.

At that moment, a knock thundered at the door, so forceful it shook the entire house. The windows flew open again, rattling violently as the wind howled through. Everything inside trembled—furniture creaked, loose objects quivered, and even the radio sputtered, its music warping into eerie static. My heart raced, and in that instant, I knew—something, or someone, was there. Not just any presence, but something ancient, something powerful. A mythical creature, perhaps, one that had crossed over for a purpose. It wasn’t just a visit. It had business with me. I froze, paralyzed by uncertainty, unsure of what to do. For a moment, I thought I was dreaming; after all, it had only been one knock. I tried to dismiss it, waiting in silence for a full minute, convincing myself it was nothing. But then it came again—a single, resonant knock that reverberated through the walls, shaking both me and the house to its core. The air grew thick with tension, and I could feel a primal instinct rising within me, urging me to either flee or confront whatever awaited on the other side of that door.