Blades. Such a simple yet devastating tool that has been the cause of many disasters. A tool that was originally used to slice apart ingredients, but its usefulness extended to something else. Something far more sinister. 

Oh, how I despise these blades. Just the thought of glancing over at one of these tools of death sends shivers down my spine. Fury boils up inside of me, my nails vigorously dig deep into my palm, sweat slides down into every crevice of my sinful body, and the intrusive thought of breaking every single one into a million shards takes control of my mind.

I was angry. Angry at myself. Angry at the past. But most importantly, I was scared.

The sharp refined edge that could pierce away at anything, its pointed tip effortlessly digging into pitiful slabs of helpless meat. The versatility of its size, small enough to be hidden from view, away from unsuspecting eyes, but sometimes large enough to make any bystander flee from just a moment's glance. And its sturdy handle that can be grasped by anyone, even by cold murderous hands. 

I'm afraid, very much so.

It may seem a bit of a stretch, but one thing led to another, and here I am now, alone in my room. A depressing room fit for a depressing person.

The white oak floor creaks with every slight movement of the foot, rotting away, degrading from its former whitish-brown glory to a dull-yellow hue that looks as if it can collapse at any moment. 

The walls were stained with unknown spots of black and yellow, with a conga line of ants moving to and fro. They were as thin as paper. Everything was audible from the outside and vice versa. A simple drop of a book could wake every neighbor in my vicinity. That would be if I had neighbors in the first place. 

The ceiling was moldy, with dark spots scattered across every inch of the plane, damaged by water and the lack of care in maintaining it.

It was a less-than-simple room. The only thing that I could be proud of was that it is my room. A place I could call my own. A safe space.

I barely had anything to fill this place up. A simple bed smack in the center of the space with a pillow that could rival that of a concrete block and a blanket that puts tissue paper to shame. It was big enough for three but at the moment, only one-third of its capacity is being occupied.

The door was just as moldy and falling apart as the floor and walls. It didn't lock properly and had massive gaps that let the shivering air in, further adding workload to my blanket that already couldn't accomplish its purpose of keeping me warm. 

A dusty dull red mat that displayed welcome was in front of the door. It no longer serves its purpose of welcoming a happy family inside their happy home, instead, it creates a cloud of dust that envelops the entire room whenever I step too hard on it. 

In the corner of the wasteland lies a single plant. I didn't mean that it stood there. What I meant by lies was here lies—, the common engraving on a gravestone. It used to be such a lively little spider plant with all its leaves spiked like an urchin. I was always a bit curious about what an urchin would look like if it had perished, but as I looked at my floral companion, I no longer sought an answer. Such a sad and tragic form. Its remains now serve as food for the invading ants and the only useful thing its corpse can do is catch dust.

A lone TV was mounted on the wall. With the walls nearly caving in, it will only be a matter of time until its flat LED surface meets with the equally flat surface of the ground. I don't really care if it does. I haven't plugged this thing in ages. I doubt it even works. If in the case that it really does plunge to its demise, I'm quite certain that it would defeat the floor, conquering it and leaving a gaping crevice in the edge of the room as it finally rest in pieces down the very hole it created.

On the other corner of the room stood a bookshelf. It definitely seemed like it belonged to the past century or two, but surprisingly, it still stood sturdy. The opposite could be said about the books it contained. They were all yellowing due to the humidity and every single one of them was caked in dust. A single sneeze would be enough to conjure up a sandstorm, trust me, I know from experience. I have read most of them, but these days, I just couldn't gather enough focus to sit down and spend an hour reading. 

To the left of the bed, there was a window, the only source of light that could illuminate my room, but currently, the clouds were hiding the moon. Not even a single star was visible. 

As you can see, I am completely alone, surrounded by darkness with only the ravaging sound of rain accompanying me on this lonely night. Oh, and let's not forget about the ants and my floral companion, if those still count.

It's cold, very cold. But after countless days and nights without the money to even afford a heater, much less payment for electricity, I grew used to the cold, just like how I befriended the dark. No amount of cold could send shivers down my spine and make my hairs go up. Even bathing with water that could almost form ice feels normal to me. You could say that I am quite cold-blooded.

As a small hole formed in the middle of the rainy clouds, the moonlight pierced through and intruded into my room, shining upon the most important thing I have in my possession—memories. 

I stood up, pushing myself off the bed with my weak arms. Every day I feel quite sluggish as if every bone in my body was decaying, losing the strength to support my fragile self.

I approached the light. The moon only illuminated the parts that were near the window. There stood a simple desk. Unlike the rest of the room, this piece of hardware was in pristine condition, as if it was the only thing that was being maintained, and indeed it was. Out of everything I own, this was the only furniture I cared about. It's not because it was good looking, nor did it cost a pretty penny, but because it served as a base for my most precious possession—a photo of my family, my family long gone.

There it stood in the moonlight, reflecting the light, making its contents difficult to see. I grabbed the frame and swiped my hand on it, removing any dust. I refuse to let a single speck attach to it.

It was a simple photo. There stood a man in the dead center of the space, smiling as if he had no care in the world, and indeed he didn't, because by his side was his beloved and irreplaceable family. 

The man wore an expensive suit that could make any salary man jealous. His frame was large and even if his body was covered from the neck down, his muscles were easily discernible, bulging from the sleeves of his slick black coat. 

The wife stood to the left of the man, holding his hand, and with an equally happy smile that makes her look way younger in comparison to her age. She wore a summer dress that gave her an air of purity and grace. The picture was static, but you could feel the wind blowing on her dress. 

Their son stood to the right of the man. He was small compared to the two, most definitely within the age of five or six. He wore a child version of the man's outfit, almost looking like he was the man from when he was a child. He held the man's hand as well, and his smile could rival those of saints, with his sparkling white teeth blinding those who witnessed his joy, forming rainbows behind his small frame even if the image was only in black and white. 

The happy family stood in a grassy patch of land, with a modern house fit for celebrities in the background. They were the perfect family, a happy family that could never be replaced with another. But that family was now a thing of the past. 

Oh, how I long to see her face again. Staring at the photo no longer fuels my will to carry on, it's no longer enough. The more that I stare into this captured moment of happiness, the deeper my sorrows become. I want her back, I want to feel her embrace, to see her smiling face one more time. But I guess that won't be happening anytime soon. No matter how much I beg, even if I were to say sorry in every single language and buy gifts that could persuade even queens, it wouldn't be enough. Nothing will be good enough to bring her back. If I were in her shoes, I would never come back. I'd rather find a new partner that I could spend every waking moment with, supporting my needs and enjoying life to the fullest, a hot guy with a future brighter than the sun, not some guy who can't even get over past trauma, a failure whose future has been locked away and now lives in the muddied past.

The rain worsened and the moonlight retreated. I could no longer see the contents of the photo. 

A deep sigh escaped my mouth. 

"I guess... today is the day. It needs to be done."

I turned around from the window, turning away from the moonlight. With the picture frame grasped in my hand, I walked to the door, creaking came from the floor with each step.

I opened the door with ease, not even needing to twist the doorknob. What awaited me on the other side was darkness, a darkness that makes everything impossible to see. With no vision and only muscle memory, I traversed down the stairs which connected my room to the living room, gliding my hand on the wall to act as some sort of navigational tool, which didn't really help at all. Each step was unnerving, it's as if a single mishap could send me falling into the dark abyss. Fear of sharp objects is one thing, but the fear of heights is probably rooted in every human being, which is definitely amplified when you can't see the ground or anything at all.

I made it to the bottom in one piece. Again, I couldn't see anything. The windows were boarded up and the lights were cut off a long time ago. No light could reach this point.

I continued to drag my hand on the wall as I walked. I'm now in my living room, but I can't really call it "living" since it no longer supports any life, not human life at least. I'll be glad if the ants could make use of this room, I certainly don't have use for it myself. I mean, my bed would probably be a better alternative to a couch, even if my brick of a pillow makes it a tad unappealing, it's just that there really isn't anything to do in my living room. It was a space that was once functional but now no longer serves any sort of purpose. There were no guests to entertain and a family of only a single person, if you could even call that a family, wouldn't necessarily need it. The living room is supposed to be where familiy gathers, but in this case, only dust gathers.

With my hand, I felt a sort of gap in the walls, signaling that I was now in front of a door, a door to a very special room, or at least, a room that was once special.

I placed my hand on the cold metallic doorknob. Just from a single touch, I could already feel the dust sticking to my flesh. It took me a minute before I could even twist it open. 

I felt strange. It was as if Jupiter's gravity was crushing me, weighing me down to a point where I couldn't even move an inch. I know what's in this room, I know every detail, every single thing that was inside, but I'm nervous to see them again. 

With a bit of courage, and the roaring thunder cheering me on, I opened the door.

A rush of frigid air bombarded me as the gap widened, not enough to make me shiver, but cold enough to stimulate my senses. 

My mind was now active, but I'd rather it wasn't. I wanted everything to pass by like the wind from earlier, to be gone as fast as it came. 

The door fully opened, and I stood there, motionless as my eyes scrutinized every detail, every speck of dust in the room.

It was empty, mostly empty. It was still a livable environment, but just not enough to be decent in the eyes of many.

A broken drawer by the side of the door, just a useless piece of wood, not a single thing inside. A dresser stood at one of the corners, just one touch away from crumbling down. A lone spider plant decorated the room, but it wasn't doing any better than the one in mine. The ants already called it their home, a home half eaten and will soon be non-existent, just like my hopes and dreams. Lastly, a bed stood in front of the boarded-up window.

I approached the bed, not realizing that my eyes were tearing up. I longed to forget everything that happened so far in my life, but I also longed to get them back. 

I'm lonely, very lonely. This room is the only sort of reminder that someone other than me once lived here, but now, not even a single memento was left, only a lone photograph and some crumbling furniture.

I kneeled in front of the bed. I rubbed the dusty mattress, deluding myself that it was still warm from someone's presence. Maybe if my eyes were to water enough, I might just be able to see visions of him, heck, a hallucination would be a godsend for me, but I know that would just dig me deeper into the abyss. I just want another reminder of him, a single trace. I buried my weeping face into the bed, drying my tears while hoping to get a single sniff of his scent, but alas, I could only smell cotton. 

I calmed myself and sat on the bed. I imagined him beside me, accompanied by his wonderful smile. Just once, I want to see him once more in person.

This needs to end now. I can't keep going on like this. This will be the last, and after it, I will start my new life, free from these chains that bound me so.

I looked at the photo one last time. With my shaking hands, I slowly gravitated towards my face and gave it a kiss, one final sentiment.

I placed the photo on the bed. 

I stood up and walked away, away from my most important possession, away from my hopes and dreams, away from my happiness.

I pushed the lock on the open door. I doubt that it works but it is the notion that counts. With the darkness enveloping the room, I couldn't even see the photograph on the bed anymore. 

"Goodnight, my happiness. Sweet dreams."

I closed the door. With no key or the will to go back, the room was now a time capsule, never to be opened ever again in the foreseeable future 

I took a deep breath, then carried on with my dreary day.

With vision clear as a blindfold, I traversed through the darkness, walking through the dust-powdered floor, leaving footprints along the way while the dust sticks to my feet. 

I reached the front door, the only thing separating me from the functional society, physically at least. There are still a lot of other components that don't allow me to return to normalcy.

I grasped the doorknob and made sure that every lock was still shut. I contemplated every day whether it was time to finally go outside or not, but I guess today still isn't the time for that.

Braving the darkness once again, I walked my way to the kitchen. 

There wasn't really anything to be of note here, just a bunch of dirty dishes and mostly empty drawers.

I wasn't hungry. These days, I feel like I'm eating just to feel somewhat alive. My regular diet consists of five packs of biscuits and a crap load of coffee, with an occasional cup of tea. As you'd expect, my body rivals that of bamboo, yet even bamboo gets better nutrition from the soil it stood on.

Forgetting where the coffee packs were placed again, I explored the drawers and cupboards.

I didn't know which was which. With no vision, and only the shape of the objects guiding me, it took me a bit before I found something, something sinister.

It was a sort of wooden rod with curves that allowed for an ergonomic grip. I didn't know what it was at first, but after feeling the cold, sharp, metallic portion of the object, I realized what it was. 

In my hand was a knife, an object that I despise more than myself.

I felt like there was no oxygen left in the air. All my pores open to secrete a fountain of sweat. It was still dark but I could fully envision the object in my hand, fully focused on it, yet at the same time, I tried my hardest to look away. 

I could feel the beating in my chest, sending me signals to do what must be done, my brain said the same thing, screaming to be rid of this notorious piece of equipment.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

I clenched my teeth, veins must have bulged out from my entire body. 

With my other hand, I grasped the sharp blade, ignoring the pain it was causing me. I raised it above me, and with a swift, almost lightning-fast motion, I slammed the middle part of it on the edge of a countertop, splitting it in half and shattering the blade.

The shards fell to the floor, and it was as if instinct took over, possessing me to repeatedly stomp all over the blade's remains, even though it would do absolutely nothing. 

I took a deep breath. My breathing finally calmed down, and so did my mind.

I refused to even touch the shards so I simply brushed them under a mat and tossed the handle back into the confines of the cupboard.

I took another breather just to assess myself.

With that out of the way, I finally found the packet of coffee. I didn't have electricity to utilize the heater, but I did have a backup, well, at this point it's more or less the primary. A gas stove.

While the water slowly approached its boiling point, I washed my one and only mug, ready to be used yet again. If it could talk, it must be extremely tired of being used so frequently that it would rant about it in a screeching tone and free-fall off the counter afterward. 

At this point, I noticed the wound that the knife inflicted on me. It definitely started to hurt when I noticed it, but I didn't really mind. I more or less don't care. I wiped the blood on my pants and left it to my platelets to do their job.

The water came to a boil and I made my coffee. With that done, I wandered back to my room, still alone, but at least I had coffee in hand.

The skies roared even more, enveloping my entirety with frigid outbursts of cold. Even in this weather, I chose to open my window, never in the mornings but always during nightfall when no soul dared to wander. The rain was at an angle where it didn't fall inside my room.

It was the perfect time for coffee. As the rain indirectly spreads its reach into my abode, a sip of coffee perfectly counteracts it. It's as if two opposing forces were fighting inside of me, ushering me toward peace or discomfort. 

Honestly, I do feel somewhat at peace. I've made a grand step in my journey towards recovery and now I'm starting to enjoy nature just a tiny bit more. 

Rainy days always seem like they bring upon the darkness, a void of hidden expanses, but as of now, it feels like it is an ambient tune preparing me for the road ahead. 

Just some time ago, the darkness felt like it was the end, a path with no destination, but at this moment, it's now a journey that hasn't begun yet, still waiting at a checkpoint to unlock the explorable landscape. With each next step, the world will soon reveal itself to me.

I sighed.

With all that said and done, I'm not a hundred percent confident in my rambling thoughts. With everything seemingly more positive than before, I start to wonder. Was letting go of that photograph all it took to start a new life? or was it just the caffeine hijacking my consciousness? Whatever it might be, once the coffee is out of my system, I'll surely know the truth. One thing is for sure, I'll forever hate knives.

...

"Huh?"

I lowered my coffee and took a quick glance behind me.

It's one of those moments where something small can garner all your attention, somewhat like a detail that seems off-centered or a note that seems off-key. This time, it was a sound. An unnatural sound that overpowered the melody of the rain for a split moment, allowing my consciousness to perceive it as something bizarre that quickly needs attention. With the event happening so fast, it's one of those instances where I'm not really sure if it had happened or if it was just my mind getting tired of the background and yearning for a different stimulus.

Indeed I was scared for a minute or so, who wouldn't be? A lone apartment with a single occupant with no neighbors or even stray animals to boot. A haunting atmosphere where rain restricts one's auditory and visual senses from the outside. And a dark history of regret and longing plaguing the image of that single tenant. It's a perfect scenario for the start of a horror movie.

I closed the window and paced around my room, further investigating the occurrence in my mind. 

...

I stopped for a bit. At first, I wasn't sure, but now that I heard it for a second time, the intrusive thought of jumping out of the window and running away seemed more and more appealing. 

I tried to calm my nerves as I approached the source of the noise, to which I wasn't even sure where it came from, but I'm certain that it was in this room. A sip of coffee for good luck.

I took tiny steps around my room, waiting for the sound to resurface. 

To outsiders, it would seem like I've gone senile. My answer to them is that I'd gladly be diagnosed with a mental illness rather than have a monster in my room.

I felt like I was getting close to it. The sweat building up on my forehead definitely wanted me to turn tail and run, but the scientific urge to explore the unknown messed with my survival instinct. As they say, curiosity killed the cat, but I really hope that it will stay as a metaphor, and not be the markings on my gravestone.

I could feel it. A presence other than me exists in the vicinity. I walked closer and closer to the presumed source of the noise, which eventually led me back to my bed. 

"It should be around here." I whispered to myself.

My nerves were kicking in, and the creaking of the floorboards added to the suspense.

I'm close enough that I could touch my bed if I extended my leg.

Where was the noise coming from? Was it under the bed or behind it? I'm not entirely sure that this is the source, but it's the only suspicious spot for a supernatural phenomenon to occur.

A deep breath and a gulp gave me a tiny bit of courage. 

I slowly knelt down. 

Under the bed definitely felt like the answer, an answer that could lead to my downfall, though I've fallen in life a lot so who's to say that one more would be the final nail to my coffin.

Looking at it now, my bed was somewhat higher above the ground, allowing for a gap large enough for a person to slide under.

Another deep breath escaped my mouth.

"Alright, here goes nothing."

I slowly lowered my head, very slowly. I could almost see under the bed. I'm at an angle where I could see about twenty percent under. Just a bit more. I continued to lower my head, slowly, until...

A loud thud came from the window, making me jump back in surprise. Even as dark as it was now, I fully understood what it was. With just its silhouette visible from the rain, the outline of a cat could be seen. 

"How did that tiny rascal get up here? I'm on the second floor!" 

Granted, the window ledge was a bit on the large side so creatures like that could easily land on it, but I didn't expect that it would actually happen. The poor feline must be looking for refuge from the rain.

A while ago, I did say that there were no stray animals in the vicinity. This was because the previous tenants installed so many traps and animal poisons in the area, claiming countless victims, and making the next generation of pests and even stray animals like cats and dogs alike instinctively avoid the area. But now, a brave cat broke through the landscape of fear.

The cat didn't stay for long. It scratched the window for no apparent reason and jumped out of the ledge. 

Now I get it. The sound of a cat scratching a surface was similar to the one that I heard. 

Phew. It was just that cat. All that nervousness just for a stray, talk about a disappointment. But I guess not being killed isn't such a disappointment after all.

With those events concluded, I felt my body getting pulled to the ground, similar to my eyelids wanting to shut closed. It wasn't that big of an ordeal, but it was still an unusual occurrence that drained me both physically and mentally. Looks like the effects of the coffee had worn off. 

This is where another day ends in my dreary life. But this time, it seems things might start changing for the better. Things might be looking up. Granted, something bizarre did happen that nearly gave me a heart attack, but let's just interpret it this way, the cat wasn't black, so no bad luck there.

I lay on my bed. After just a second of relaxation, I could already feel my limbs not wanting to move. I haven't even returned the mug to the kitchen. I guess that will have to wait until tomorrow. 

The clouds dispersed, allowing the moonlight to visit my room once more, and the rain calmed down but still gave off a soothing ambiance.

I closed my eyes and bid thee a fair night.

...

...

A sound could be heard from a distance. It must be that cat again.

...

Hearing it again, I noticed that it was different from the feline scratching the glass. It was rather silent, but I feel as though something unsettling was behind it.

...

It started to echo around me, around my room, and inside my mind.

Am I dreaming? Hopefully so.

...

It was getting closer.

...

I tried to open my eyes, I wanted to, but something... something was preventing me from doing so. It was as if a heavy pressure was forcing my eyes closed.

...

The sound... it's near me, a few feet away perhaps. What exactly is it? It's a strange sound, yet it's oddly familiar.

...

As I heard it again and again, I still couldn't conjure up words to describe the noise. All I could say was that it's sort of mechanical. It was the sort that could irritate your ears, much like screeching, but it wasn't that. 

Not quite sure what it is, but there is one thing that I am certain of. It terrified the spirits out of me.

...

I can hear it. It circled around me, teasing me in my immobile state. 

Even as scared as I was, I still wanted to fight back, to not die a coward. But this just isn't fair. At least let me move so I could sprint to my grave.

.....

The sound worsened. My ears throbbed more and more with each second. It was now too close to tell where it was coming from. If it wasn't in front of me, then it was directly below. 

.....

It sounded angry. I knew this by instinct.

Suddenly, I felt immense pressure building up in my chest, as if I was being pinned onto the bed. I feel cold, very cold.

Is this... what dying feels like? 

.........................................................................................

I jumped out of the bed. My heavy breathing was all that I could hear. A second later and I can now see clearly again. I never once thought that looking at my rotting, ant-infested walls could relieve me this much. 

After a few minutes of breathing and looking around, I finally calmed down. With my breath no longer echoing in the room, the sound of rain could be heard once more. 

"Thank God it was just a dream... but curse him for putting me through that."

I got up and wobbled my way to the window, opening it to view the outside again. 

It's a bit of a stretch, but I think the rain sounds quite similar to the noise in my dream. Overpowering and constant, yet the sound of rain was soothing, and even if it seems the opposite, the rain fills me with warmth.

"That's enough sightseeing," I said to myself.

I closed the window again and went out of my room, down into the abyss. Even if it seems dark and anything could potentially jump me from behind, I am confident that nothing will happen. But I am a bit paranoid. This feeling is quite normal since even people who don't believe in ghosts feel spooked and nervous when walking in the dark after having watched a horror movie. The same thing applies to me.

I traversed the darkness and went inside a room without a door. 

You can't really see much from inside, it's just as dark as everything else, but you can hear a few sounds echoing inside, all of it has to do with water. 

I am in the bathroom, and the sounds all come from leaking faucets and other things similar. Basically, every single one of my pipes may or may not be leaking.

I walked my way to the mirror and washed my face to clear my mind a bit. It is indeed dark, but when I squint and focus hard enough, I can see my reflection in the mirror, partially. 

I splashed more water on my face, and when I was just about to grab a towel hanging from beside the faucet, I saw something. 

I quickly focused on the mirror, turned back, turned to the mirror, and repeated. It was an endless loop until I finally concluded that it was nothing.

I wasn't even sure about what I saw. I caught a quick glance at the mirror while I tried to grab a towel when I noticed something by the corner of the reflection. It wasn't a figure or a ghost, it's just black. A shade of black that was a bit darker than its surroundings. Something that can go undetected but frightening once observed.

I grasped the corners of the bathroom sink and sighed heavily. 

"It's nothing, just my imagination." I whispered with my eyes closed.

Curse that dream I had, scaring the crap out of me and now manifesting my fright into my peaceful living space.

As I calmed down, I reached for the towel once again, but there was no need for it anymore. 

Without noticing how much time I had spent inside the bathroom, both my face and hands were already dry.

I went back upstairs and retired back into my bed. Hopefully, pleasant dreams will visit me this time.

...

...

Or not.

I got out of bed again, looking around the room in search of that horrid noise. 

I've heard it so much today that it isn't even scary anymore. True enough, I was frightened when I was sleeping, but that was because it felt so surreal at first. But now that it's more of a bedtime menace than a supernatural occurrence, I now find it quite an annoyance.

...

I heard it again.

This time, the sound became clearer and I conjured up another hypothesis. This sound... it's quite similar to something being scraped, like an object sliding on a surface, similar to the cat but somehow a bit different. Thinking of a normal scenario, I assume it is indeed an animal, more accurately, a rodent, presumably a mouse. It must be biting and scraping its filthy teeth into the just as filthy floor and producing that noise. This might be correct. It all makes sense to me now.

...

"Aha! It came from that direction" I pointed with my eyes. It was the further half of my room. Normally I don't speak out loud like this, but a sort of detective air was clouding my mind, allowing me to revert back into my teens where I still had a curious and playful mindset.

However, playtime would surely be short-lived as there were only 3 places to look into: the drawer near the window, the bookshelf in the corner, and my bed.

Since I had already checked under the bed last time, more accurately, was about to check, I decided that it was best to inspect it last.

I walked over to the drawer first and slid open the top layer as slowly as I could. I was scared, not from fear of a supernatural phenomenon, but a fear of a rat jumping out from the drawer and biting me, infecting me with a virus that could start a second plague. And if you were to inspect my home, it would surely look like a place where an infection could propagate.

The drawer was open. Piles of useless junk, a black flashlight with its lens shattered, a 20-sided die from when I played Dungeons and Dragons with my friends in the past, a bundle of bookmarks, a snicker bar from God knows when, more useless junk, paper, junk, and looks like that's everything. I then inspected the lower layer, but seeing as it was filled to the brim with paperwork and other documents, I doubt anything else was in there.

I headed over to my bookshelf. Mold was already growing over some of my books. Treasures of my past that provided me with intellectual entertainment now became a breeding ground of organisms. What a shame. I could spot a few titles that once served as the foundation of my adolescent years, but seeing them now, not even a spark of nostalgia came to me. The bookshelf was filled to the brim with no spaces in between. I knelt down and lowered my head to the ground, observing underneath and behind its wooden frame. A desert of dust and random debris met my vision, but no sign of life was to be found. All things seem to be clear here as well.

The last location on the list, as well as the most nerve-racking, was the bed. I would be perfectly fine if the rat was in the drawers or shelves, but I don't like the idea of sleeping with a vermin that doesn't have the moral obligation to not bite the first moving creature that it sees. 

I took one huge breath in and out, grasped the edges of my blanket, and swiftly pulled it out like a tablecloth. Good, nothing out of the ordinary, just dead cells and hair. I then flipped over the mattress. Looks like nothing here either. 

With the local vermin still nowhere to be found, one location was left on the list to finally check—under the bed.

I gulped as I prepared myself to kneel down and venture into the unknown. It would seem like it is the best hiding spot for pests, but even knowing that the worst that I will possibly see down there is a colony of rats, a fear of an unknown entity creeping up from under the bed was still bothering me in the back of my mind, much like a bedtime horror story that never left the crevices of my consciousness as I grew up into an adult.

I knelt down and slowly lowered my head, my forehead sweating, while my feet and hands grew colder with every inch of my vision declining to the ground.

I stopped for a moment and closed my eyes.

"Fine, here goes nothing." I whispered.

In a single swift motion, I lowered my head completely on the ground, almost bashing my head on the floor. I opened my eyes and captured the scenery in front of me.

Nothing... there was absolutely nothing there. Not even a single trace of past vermin inhabitants. Just a flat plane of nothingness.

I sighed in relief as I sat down on the floor.

One conclusion came to mind. The rat probably scurried off while I was looking for it. What a nimble ninja it was. Either that or there wasn't a rat in the first place, instead, something else. Maybe I'll just stick with the former. That's the best explanation that will put my mind at ease tonight.

With all that out of the way, I hopped my tired body on the bed and slid back the blanket on me. Finally, time for some well-deserved rest.

An hour passed. 

My body felt light, yet heavy at the same time, sinking into the bed. My mind grew clearer until nothing could enter the confines of my head. My eyes were tired, but as the seconds went by, I could feel the darkness enveloping them, closing them off from outside stimuli and rejuvenating their energy.

Just when I thought sleep would come my way...

...

I burst open my eyes. 

I sat back in the bedframe and groaned. "Fine, have it your way." I crossed my arms.

...

...

"Tsk" I clicked my tongue as I got off the bed. "One more time and I'll buy every rat poison in the market even if I don't have the funds to do so." 

I grabbed the flashlight from inside the drawer, crouched down under the bed, and pointed the flashlight in every nook and cranny.

"Come out!" I groaned, frustration could clearly be heard.

There was still nothing in sight, but this time, frustration struck my nerves, so instead of calling it quits, I stuck my head deeper inside.

My eyes were as focused as they could be, even without the constant aid of coffee, but maybe the caffeine from earlier was still alive and kicking. I left no speck of dust unturned, everything in sight was inspected. Alas, it was as clear as day. Nothing was there.

A sigh rode my breath. "Fine, I give up." I dimmed the flashlight.

Just when I was about to pull my head out from under the bed, something caught my attention. 

It was just like before, in the peripherals of my eye, I saw darkness... a different shade of darkness. Something difficult to spot, yet blindly obvious and frightening when observed.

I peered into the darkness. This time, it didn't disappear.

A weird sensation intruded my body. I was scared, horrified even, but for some reason, I couldn't take my eyes away from it. Jumping out of the window and running away was an option, but my consciousness opted for doing nothing.

I moved closer in.

The darkness swirled and grew.

"Is it alive?" I thought in my head.

It was first as small as a pebble, but as it twisted and turned, it grew to about a foot or two long.

Fascination clouded my thinking. If before, I had the mind of a detective, now, I am a researcher. This "thing" of unknown origin was truly something to behold.

But I was gravely mistaken in my choices. If I had a time machine, I would go back and run away the very second I hear that noise again.

The darkness grew again and started to lose its opacity, looking more solid as it swirled around.

It took shape.

The second that I caught a glimpse of it, my mind finally went back on the right footing. I could now feel how cold my body was from fright, my knees weakening, and my hands shaking. It's as if all these sensations were blocked off and now finally went back into me.

The darkness... it formed two large hands.

I hurriedly tried to get myself out of bed, clutching the bed frame with all my might.

It was getting closer to my face, and the sound I kept hearing appeared again, this time, my ears felt like they wanted to bleed.

I pushed and pushed but I couldn't get out, it was as if my head could no longer fit in the gap. I didn't care at this point. I vigorously pushed with all my might, not caring if I was scraping my face on the floor, and my dome on the bed frame, similar to cheese being grated, but two-way. 

All my efforts equated to nothing. 

The darkness came closer.

Finally, I felt the helplessness of my situation, and even amid a deserted wasteland of a neighborhood, I screamed for help.

"SOMEONE PLEASE HEL-" 

The darkness cut me off. It forcefully stuck to my mouth, blocking off my screams of distress.

I wiggled and shook my head, but it wasn't enough.

I could feel the sweat dripping into my eyes while tears flowed from the other end.

The other hand came closer, and I twitched as it grabbed the back of my head.

I knew it was there, yet I felt no touch, just immense pressure.

I closed my eyes. I wished all of this was just a dream, just a bad dream. And once I wake up, I'll be a new man. An impeccable person who will blend in with society. Someone who will work for the sake of the economy. A functional human being.

I opened my eyes again. 

In that split second, I felt my mind would burst like a bubble.

The rotting floorboards of my room disappeared, and instead, a gaping void filled its place.

I wanted to scream but it held my mouth. I wanted to run but it immobilized me. I wanted to call out to all the saints for their aid, but nothing could reach me now. There was nothing left to turn to.

All I could do was watch in horror as it pulled me deeper into the dark abyss under the bed.